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Chapter Text

Lydia’s wrists and ankles were bound. By what she didn’t know, couldn’t check, as her eyes were covered by some kind of blindfold, so she was unable to see if anyone else was there. Something was in and over her mouth so she couldn’t banshee scream, call out for help, or even breathe through her mouth. It was hard to tell how long she’d be there as the drugs made her head swim and body heavy, but the last thing Lydia remembered was standing outside the mall in her light blue summer dress with Stiles and Allison. It seemed slightly ridiculous to her that Allison still had to be on guard all the time.

The incident at the preserve had been months ago and, as far as they knew, no threats were looming that knew the truth. Or so she had thought. Obviously, that wasn’t the case. Wait, no. no, they’d saved the Demon Wolf from Gerard. Gerard was a threat. He loomed. They were in groups for safety.

Safety? Safety?!

Her head swam. It was hard to keep things straight. She felt like she was outside her body yet still inside.

In a loose Hawkeye graphic t-shirt, Stiles had been telling her about this weird dream he’d had...or maybe it was something he read about? He had been most concerned that, in the dream, Lydia and a man he didn’t know were standing side-by-side, arms sewed together. No matter how much she assured him it was only just a dream, but just because he has spark, that he is an alpha, does NOT mean he’s seeing the future. And where the hell was Allison?

Then she woke up…here.

NO! No. that wasn’t right. Why was this happening? Why was everything swimming. Why couldn’t she keep it clear? Something was very wrong. What was happening?

Lydia did her best to focus her confused yet somehow also sluggish mind on whatever details she could discern, a habit she had developed due to how much she seemed to ‘awaken’ from the drugged haze. It was quite ridiculous, really.

She couldn’t see or speak—that much she already knew…had known. Her mouth seemed to be blocked by a gag with a rubber piece, like a ball or cork. Trying to move her head side to side brought the understanding that the gag was tightly secured to the blindfold, catching her hair with a tug if she moved wrong or too quickly. Slowly, more of her seemed to become conscious, so she kept working to gather any detail, no matter how minute.

Suddenly, and not for the first time, Lydia filled her lungs as best she could, letting loose a death cry for Stiles with everything she had. Little made it past the device on her mouth, a shallow repeat of every death rattle she had for Stiles ‘til now. Tears poured from her eyes as it did every time, a human cry stuck in her throat, eyes prickling and irritated. How much longer would this continue? How many times would they make her cry for Stiles? Or was it even real?

Was something affecting her scream besides the gag? Was Stiles really dying over and over? That couldn’t be right, could it? What was going on?

What was happening?!

With each banshee call, Lydia was both relieved and terrified: he had been revived again, yes? But this time could be the permanent end of Stiles? Each death cry was the only proof of his life for her in the moment it was taken yet again.

Or was she wrong? Shouldn’t the scream be strong enough to blow the gag out of her mouth? She wasn’t sure. But at the same time, she felt like there were growing whispers in the room with her. Not truly auditory like someone talking or even whispering to you out loud. But they were there nonetheless.

It had started as mumblings like distant whispers of the wind. With her input of senses being so hampered time remained absent, somehow. But over time the sound was getting clearer. Not really closer, as it was a sound that had somehow had physical weight around her, but rather rising to the surface in a way that she struggled to put to language within her own mind.

Then she shook her head as best she could. Why was she screaming? It didn’t feel like normal. Her mind was running circles, confused and twisting up everything, tugging on her hair with her movements.

Solid, physical things weren’t changing, like the thing in her mouth or her eyes being covered, but things otherwise weren’t right. How could she be screaming for Stiles? She didn’t feel like he’d died.

Furthermore, she literally couldn’t scream. The things in and over her mouth prevented it. Her mouth was useless. As it was, she could only breathe through her nose. She didn’t understand how things kept getting so twisted and confused.

Lydia felt like she had been here, wherever here even was, for an eternity but also just an hour or two. Nothing seemed right and the details of so much was twisting all around and what was real or wasn’t just kept getting murkier.

But it kept happening over and over again. The line between waking and sleeping was too great for her to accurately gage the distance. Honestly, she wasn’t sure if she had managed to sleep at all being right there. Lydia’s heart was beating so fast she doubted she could sleep, but with everything she just didn’t know anymore.

Trying to school herself for the moment and ignore the emotional horrors of every death cry, Lydia used Stiles’ calming, focusing trick. She counted. When this all started, she was counting to ten. It was enough. But now? She was counting to twenty or forty depending on how close the death occurred, how confused she got, how disoriented she felt.

It all also kept her from thinking about Allison, which she had to do to survive. She could not bear the idea of what could be happening to her! Ally was the love of her life and Lydia couldn’t help, couldn’t save her. Lydia so desperately wanted to think about, fantasize about all of this not being real and just be in her mind, in happiest places with Ally. But she knew, she knew that road may lead her to check out and never come back.

Part of her job, Lydia knew was to keep herself together as best she could. She was going to get out of here. Even it things had been forever and a half or two minutes, Lydia knew the pack would come for her, come for Stiles, for who all Gerard had.

She needed to hold on, so no escaping into her mind. No thoughts of Ally and a life without struggle as it was too tempting to live only in her mind. She couldn’t do that, could not abandon everyone, especially Ally.

It took some time for her counting and tears to ease enough to return to her efforts to access anything she could in an attempt to find out where she was and how to free them all or at least help those who were no doubt working to rescue them—she tried everything, repeatedly, too afraid and determined to give up now. Somehow, she could never stop. It was the only solid in her mind outside of death.

Whatever she was sitting on shifted slightly under her weight. Whatever it was, she was tightly bound to it, the bindings making her realize her arms and legs were being pinched and causing her fingers and toes to tingle with sleep.

A moment later, she heard yelling and loud footfalls some ways away.

She realized those sounds were the first she’d heard, other than her own gag-muffled gasps, screams, and struggle against her bindings. There were no smells that she could discern. All she could feel was her bindings, gag, and whatever it was she sat on.

She heard someone open a door nearby—then a touch on her shoulder, and Lydia found herself tensing, assuming the worst.

Just then, a familiar male voice whispered to her, “Be very, very quiet. I am trying to get you out of here.”

Lydia then startled awake as another mournful cry rose unbidden, drowning out into the device clamped on her mouth as Stiles died yet again. Then another sob fought and lost its way against the thing in her mouth at reminding herself she didn’t feel him die. She was scared though and for some reason she could not seem to fully nail down, her mind kept constructing answers to questions she wasn’t even sure she was asking.

She finds herself tensing as soon someone’s hand touches her, realizing what woke her was someone taking the thing off her ears.

Then, a man’s voice is whispering to her: “Be very, very quiet. I am trying to get both of you out of here.”

She hears something laid down not too far from her. The man takes off what was covering her eyes: Peter. Peter Hale.

Crouched down beside her in dark clothes, Peter whispers again, as he is quickly cutting her loose, “You need to be as silent as possible.”

Lydia, about to demand an explanation, sees what was laid down: Stiles’ limp and bloody body, which includes a savage animal bite mark over his collarbone. She can’t tell if he is even wearing much of his clothes anymore with all the blood. Once she is fully loose, she reaches over to touch Stiles, to check if he is breathing.

Chapter Text

Lydia’s eyes remain wide as she whispers, as though he hope could be shattered in an instant, “Is this real?”

At the same time, Lydia moved to Stiles to check his pulse even as her legs were wobbly. She ended up crumbling part way there.

Peter helped her up to make the distance, seemingly knowing where she was going.

Once set down beside Stiles, Lydia checked his pulse to find it was weak, but he was alive. Tears in her eyes, Lydia asked again, “Is this real?”

Getting a brief but better look at Stiles, Lydia realized he was covered in his one blood including on cuts on his genitals and so much blood from his behind and back. She started crying harder.

But, Peter clamped a hand over her mouth, whispering with a smoker’s cough voice into her ear: “You need to be quiet. We’re running out of time. Understand?”

Once Lydia had nodded her understanding, Peter let her loose.

Lydia noticed both his eyes were blown black beyond void. Peter’s skin was discolored even with the Nogitsune being clearly in such control of his vessel.

The possessed man was pale as a ghost with his claws out but no fangs or other sign of shifting. Around his eyes was darkness like he’s never slept in his life. It spoke volumes in the lack of tells or rage in its graceful indifference.

It was then Chris stepped into the area. The man was covered in blood that didn’t seem his own, btu the man had tears continuously falling from his eyes even as his entire body, face was in a cold stoic state.

Lydia was afraid of what this all meant. She found herself hoping this was a dream, but as Christopher lifted her, it just felt so real. It forced her to place her hand over her mouth to quiet the unstoppable crying.

When they emerged from the room, Chris carrying her and Peter carrying Stiles, Deucalion and Erica were there waiting for them. Deucalion looked murderous and Erica crying with her hand over her own mouth to quiet her.

Whatever was happening, Lydia really didn’t want to know. Even as her mind supplied question after question, she refused to fully form them even in her mind.

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Peter’s body turned to Chris, then motioned to Erica.

Understanding, Christopher passed Lydia to Erica.

Curling into her friend, Lydia just cried more.

Peter’s body passed Stiles to Chris. No words were shared but there did seem to be a silent agreement. The Nogitsune led them back the way they had come with caution, but he also felt like he was racing the snapping of a trap, the book closing.

Getting all the way back to where the elevator doors were, the Nogitsune was less surprised than he wanted to be at Gerard and at least a dozen hunters standing between the pack and the elevator. It seemed to be a quickly thrown together trap for them even if not as daunting as the planned trap faced in rescuing Deuc. However, they had more wounded with them this time.
As the Nogitsune backed up closer to those being carried to protect them, Gerard spoke, “Oh, how sweet? You brought back the prisoner you took.”

The Nogitsune noted the youth of all the hunters outside of Gerard. Peter’s body openly rolled his eyes to draw most if not all of Gerard’s holier-than-thou attention to himself. “What? Think I’m here to trade?”

Gerard frowned. “Trade? No. If it were, I would know you were even more crazed than before. Who would trade having a real, live Nogitsune for some Alpha werewolf that I’ve already claimed?”

At the word ‘claimed,’ Gerard winked at Duke.

The Demon Wolf growled low but did not move an inch. He had to have known the moment was make or break.

Looking at Chris, Gerard said, “Did you find Allison? Scott?”

The Nogitsune took a solitary step forward to be better seen. “Funny story that—how do you even know you have a Nogitsune, let alone a kitsune of any kind?”

Gerard frowned, clearly starting to look more closely at Peter but not wanting to give ground to a possibly possessed wolf, which was not possible. He then seemed to rally and straighten up with remembering one could not be a fox AND a wolf. “So like a wolf to try a—”

Gerard didn’t get to finish his smug words, not only because some of the hunters had rushed to slip behind the pack at that moment, but the elevator behind Gerard also opened to reveal Kira, Cora, and Ethan with the latter two already partially shifted while Kira drew her blade.

Chris also took two shots to his right leg from behind as one of the young hunters fired their weapon in response to wolves arriving on the elevator, but other than blood scent on the air Chris gave nothing away.

All at once, Chris slid Stiles safely to the ground, leaned alongside the wall, and he turned on a dime to immediately start firing on the hunters who had gotten behind them.

Erica quickly moved to stand before Stiles after sliding Lydia down to be beside him so she could guard and protect them both in the fight. The shewolf shifted and growled fiercely.

Deucalion charged Gerard, jumping over a young hunter who tried to get in the way to literally slam his entire body—claws first—into the old hunter.

Peter took the opportunity to quickly slam himself into the young hunters trying to attack Duke. He made quick work of shredding them to pieces. Even with the Nogitsune in control, Peter’s savage violence could only be held back so much as his dismembered and thoroughly destroyed the hunters he got ahold of with Cora and Kira’s watching his back and fighting those trying to catch his back while he was destroying others while Ethan charged into helping Chris finish off those he had taken to shooting

Quickly, more young and a few older hunters rushed in too. In the chaotic fight, Gerard’s body was removed but to where was not immediately clear. Deucalion threw himself into the new batch of hunters, ripping them to pieces of one kind or another.

Having made quick work of those there while taking more than a bullet or two, the Nogitsune pulled Peter back more and pulled Duke off the ground meat that was what was left of the newer hunters. Even though the hunters were already dead, Peter kept his eyes on them as he asked Ethan, “How many patrols are left out there?”

Ethan gave a wolfish grin. “Maybe none. Probably none.”

At the same time, Chris did some quick first aid on himself and then picked Stiles back up.

The Nogitsune nodded. He then pointed with his chin toward the elevator. “Get the wounded on first. Ethan and Kira go with Chris and Erica. We’ll head up next.”

Chris went with the others into the elevator. His tears had not stopped, like the girls, but he kept his cold composure nonetheless.

Once only Cora, Deucalion, and he were left with the bodies, the Nogitsune dug around through the bodies until he found a match and a lighter: he had plans even though based on the blood scents others in their group had been hit with bullets and knives too, but this was important for the Hales.

Sharing a look with Cora, the Nogitsune began lighting the pile of huners on fire at multiple points after Cora had nodded her blessing in a sense at the intent as the fires stoked higher. “For all of their victims here and elsewhere through time and space.”

Once the body was fully alight, the Nogitsune, Cora, and Duke wordlessly got on the returned elevator.

As the last of them stepped out of the elevator, Chris whispered, “Hurry…I’m sure there are more on their way. A lot more. Gerard never believed there was such a thing as too much.”

Kira looked thoroughly out of her depth among them, but she showed no signs of giving up or slipping into a panic.

A bit proud of Kira keeping it together on such short notice, the Nogitsune didn’t question Chris’ words. He then took Stiles from Chris’ steady hands, and they all as quickly and quietly as possible while trying not to jostle the wounded any more than they had to, headed for the vehicles they all hoped had gone unnoticed.

As they worked to get to the vehicles, shouts and gunfire could be heard behind them all. It seemed Chris had called it right. The ruckus pushed them to move faster.

Where the wolves could move faster, Chris intentionally fell back some to scoop up Kira. She yelped at being lifted but the hunter seemed to figure it would get them there faster as she was still coming into her abilities. She was new to this all, after all.

Once to the vehicles, Chris set Kira down.

The Nogitsune settled Stiles safely into Christopher’s truck front seat. “Okay, Erica, we’re going with Lydia and Stiles in Chris’ truck. He’ll drive while we’re all in the back. We’re heading straight to the hospital. When we get closer to town I’ll get ahold of Melissa, then Noah. The rest of you? Derek’s SUV. Start pulling out whatever bullets you’ve taken and burn off what Wolf’s Bane you can. Hit Derek’s loft first for first aid. From there, text me. Before we go any further, everyone grab your phones, etc that we left in the vehicles.”

Chris shook his head, settling Lydia into the back of his truck. “I’m not going. I have business to deal with here.”

The Nogitsune looked to Chris, feeling Peter trying to roar to the surface. “You realize you’re not likely to survive?”

Tears still flowing while he remained stoically cold, Chris Argent was blunt. “As long as I take as many as possible with me… I accept how things may go.”

Faintly tilting his head, the Nogitsune said, “Peter will come back for you. I don’t know how long it’ll take, but we are coming back.”

Chris nodded. “I do not expect to be saved. I just want to cut them down and free who I can.”
Following what he understood to be the wolven way, the Nogitsune pulled Chrisopher into a snug hug despite them both having plenty of blood of them and scented Chris’ neck. “Know you are not alone. You’re pack.”

Surprised, Chris took a moment to speak or even return the hug. However, once he got his cold, stoic mask back on, Chris hugged back, saying, “It’s been a privilege to fight by your side.”

Chapter Text

With Erica, Lydia, and Stiles crammed into the cab of Christopher Argent’s truck, Peter was speeding like hell toward Beacon Hills. At the same time, he pulled out his phone and called Melissa, putting it on speaker phone while it rang so he could hold Stiles’ feverish body close while driving one-handed.

When the other end of the line picked up, Peter didn’t bother with salutations: “Melissa, you and Noah need to get to the hospital. Call ahead.”

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Outside the Stilinski house…
Melissa coughed some, grateful she had worked to air out the house as best she could even as the others were dealing with the “intruders” (read hunters) who’d broken into the house to kill any and all present after throwing in Wolf’s Bane laced smoke bombs. Gerard was clearly not playing.
She and the others were all standing in front of the house. A smoke grenade going off in a residential area and gun shots were not something you could easily pretend away or cover up.
Just as the police were arriving, Noah having called them in, Melissa’s phone began to go off with the song she had set as the ringtone for Peter: “Big Bad Wolf” by Nightcore. Concerned, Melissa immediately answered.
With no preamble or chance for Mel to speak, Peter bluntly said, “Melissa, you and Noah need to get to the hospital. Call ahead, please… it’s Stiles. He’s in really bad shape and Lydia’s not looking good herself. They need help, and I’ve bitten Stiles to try and save him, but I’m not sure it’s working.”

Forgetting any sebalance of a cover story or plan, Melissa paled and moved toward Noah, speaking quickly, “Okay, I’ll have Derek rush Noah and I there. See you soon!”

Not bothering with the officers or anything else, Mel ended the call and shoved the phone and grabbed Noah. “They found Stiles. He’s in bad shape—we have to go now.”

She then raised her voice a bit, “Derek, you’re driving. Don’t care what it takes, get us there as quick as you can.”

Noah seemed caught completely off guard despite the suspicion that they could’ve lost someone with the pack bonds going silent as if masked by some outside magic not too long after Stiles’ call for help to his pack. He barked out quickly as he rushed to his patrol car just a hint slower than Mel and definitely slower than Derek who looked genuinely terrified, probably having heard the other end of the phone call. “You know what to do! Main areas as well as front and back yards are the crime scene. Bedrooms were uninvolved.”

The sherif didn’t dare to promise to be in contact and he hustled into his patrol car, not even commenting that Derek was already in the driver’s seat with the engine running.

Once in the vehicle with Mel and Derek with a seat belt on and the door closed, Noah asked as they sped off, “How bad is it?”

Derek answered before Mel could, saying, “Peter specifically mentioned only Lydia and Stiles… and had to bite Stiles. It’s really bad. I’m sorry, but screw speed limits. I won’t rash, we’re in a serious rush.”

Meanwhile, Mel was calling ahead to emergency room, doling out orders as well as blood type information on those specifically mentioned.

In less than seven minutes, Derek skidded the Sherif’s patrol car into a parking spot near the emergency entrance of the hospital just as Peter pulled in right beside them.

There were no greetings.

Derek, Mel, and Noah were rushing out of the vehicle, Mel moving to the side toward the emergency entrance that nurses were coming out of, shouting orders.

At the same time, Peter didn’t both turning off Chris’ truck, instead wrenching open his door as he holler, “Lydia’s on the other side with Erica… I need help with Stiles!”

Peter was trying to gently hold and slide Stiles out even though touching him burned to hold as his fever was so intense just beyond normal human range.

Derek rushed to Peter’s side. At first ripping his hand away after touching Stiles at first and making eye contact with Peter at seeing Stiles’ condition. Shaking himself out of his hesitation and pain, Derek grabbed ahold of Stiles with Peter, helping the brutally beaten, cut, and bleeding teen out of the cab of the truck.

At the same time, Noah took one look at Stiles and forced himself around to the other side to help Erica with Lydia. He made sure to keep his mind away from asking questions. One thing at a time.

Wile shaking uncontrollably, Lydia seemed at least physically better beyond having her hand clamped over her mouth so tightly that her nail were digging into her face in her desperation to prevent a scream.

The hospital staff made it quickly to the vehicles. Mel helped keep people out of the way for Derk and Peter to lift Stiles onto a gurney.

Derek was quick to step back once Stiles was secure. He then moved to help out with Lydia as he could hear a nurse trying to convince Lydia to let go of her face. He moved to her, pulling her to him before she got onto a gurney herself. He was wearing his leather jacket and opened it up to snuggle her face into his chest within the jacket. He crooned softly to her, “Press your mouth against my ribcage on the side without my heart and scream. Let it out. I can take it.”

Tears running down Lydia’s face, she did as Derek told her too. Pressed so tight to him, his body taking the brunt of the sound and all of the damage, it sounded to those around them like she was just letting loose a horror movie level shrill, yet reverberating scream.

Erica then pulled Lydia away in such a way as to allow Derek to zip up his coat and lean back on Chris’ truck to hide the immense damage done.

Then Erica and the nurses were getting Lydia on a gurney.

At the same time as Derek walked away from Stiles, Peter leaned into Mel, whispering to her, “He’s in a tight spot. I’ll need to be able to stay close.”

Mel nodded subtly that she understood.

Then people were rushing about.

Pretty quickly, Stiles was rushed into treatment once he had an IV in. They were also already doing a blood transfusion. Stiles was so pale in the few spots where you could see his skin tone, color. The rest was layers of different bruises in a range of healing stages.

There appeared to be cuts on Stiles’ chest, back and an arm. The teen’s lower body was cut into as well. It almost looked like the hunters were trying for a version of death by a thousand cuts almost. His eyes were swollen and black to the point that it was unclear if the teen could see.

Getting a better lit look at Stiles carved viscerally into Peter’s heart and soul. The hunters were monsters. Peter’s wolf and the Nogitsune both bayed for blood. They were hard to ease into the background, especially when Peter fully agreed.

On the other hand, Lydia was starting to scream at people. Not as a Banshee, but she was fighting strangers touching her and yelling for them to stop touching Stiles in addition to demanding to know where Allison was.

Peter took a steadying breath, trying to keep control of himself without letting the Nogitsune to the surface to help. A bit shaky, because something had to give, Peter approached Lydia, gently touching her arm to draw her attention.

When the nurses paused to let Peter help, Lydia calmed then looked to Peter with huge, tearfully frightened eyes. In a tiny voice, she asked, “Where’s Allison?”

Very gently, Peter pulled Lydia into a hug. He whispered softly to her so that no one else would hear but her: “She’s gone, now. I couldn’t save her… I’m so sorry.”

Rather than turning on him, lashing out and hurting him as Peter expected, Lydia hugged his tighter, crying.

Peter rubbed her back softly, surprised. It calmed him too even. He tilted his head forward, gently scenting her as they hugged. He then whispered, “Would this be easier if I went with you?”

Lydia nodded without letting go of him, her tears soaking through his bloody shirt.

Looking up from Lydia without letting her go, Peter asked Mel, “Can you be with Stiles? If he asks for me, feel free to send for me. I’m just going to go help Lydia.”

Mel nodded and handed out a few more orders to the nurses to put Lydia in the treatment room closest to where Stiles was heading and left to catch up with Stiles.

Peter’s phone started buzzing like crazy as he received text after text. Not yet checking any of the incoming messages, Peter looked at the nurse nearest him, saying, “I’m going to go with her so she’ll stop fighting you all quite so much.”

He then looked to Lydia and lifted her chin softly, “I’ll hold your hand through it all, okay?”

Lydia nodded, gently letting him go except taking his hand in hers.

Erica then said, “I’m going to wait for the others in the lobby.”

The nurses and Peter got Lydia back on the gurney and going forward to the treatment room Melissa had indicated they use.

Peter wasn’t sure what Erica meant by waiting for the others, but he’d bet money it had to do with the buzzing in his pocket.

Holding her hand, Peter was attentive to her even as he took out his phone and looked at the texts blowing him up. He also kept tabs on the Stiles’ monitors that he could hear.

From Aiden:
Isaac’s room was attacked.

From Aiden:
It was dealt with but there is a body.

From Aiden:
There is also some rough first aid work for Boyd

From Boyd:
Isaac’s still okay, but a hunter tried to dose his IV with straight Wolf’s Bane and Mistletoe

From Boyd:
Is Erica doing okay? The bonds feel weird.

From Deucalion:
I’m taking Adrian and the others with me to hospital.

From Deucalion:
Stilinski place is still a crime scene. The loft is too. Hunters hit both.

Lydia looked to Peter, asking, “Is everyone okay?”

Peter, still lightly shaking with the effort to keep control of himself, said, “I think so, but I’m not fully updated yet.”

Lydia nodded, taking deep breathes though the nurses setting up her IV and checking her over. The teen seemed to be mostly physically okay, but clearly wasn’t mentally okay. She watched everyone but Peter like they could turn on her at the drop of a hat or somehow not be real.

Checking his phone more, Peter scrolled to see what other texts he’d received since going in to rescue the missing pack members that he could.

Getting too close to that thought, Peter had to close his eyes for a moment to let the Nogitsune to the surface more to push down more of his growingly feral rage so that he could be here for Lydia and functional overall for the pack while Stiles was receiving care.

While his heart monitors show slow heart pace, Stiles’ heart was still steady.

Once he had control of himself and the Nogitsune could step back, Peter opened his eyes that were their normal blue. He took a slow breath and watched over Lydia while checking the texts on his phone.

Adrian texted:
Are you guys okay? Duke just texted he was coming for me.

Adrian texted:
Never mind, Duke explained he’s bringing me to you.

Erica texted:
Where’s Derek?

Erica texted:
Noah checked in with me and is looking for Derek

Noah texted:
Derek’s not doing great. I called Erica over to help now that I’ve found him. He’s healing but it’s slow. What happened to him?

Peter considered his options before saying to Lydia, “Seems everyone’s dealing with a lot, but the priority is you and Stiles right now.”

Lydia perked a brow, clearly skeptical of his clearly carefully worded statement. However, she didn’t press him on it just yet. Instead, she gripped his hand a little harder.

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This moment, this place, Peter was real.

Lydia just kept repeating it to herself. She had to. This … being imprisoned… she saw and felt and screamed through so much. The line between real and unreal was too impossibly thin. It’s why she clung to Peter. Seeing him, spending time with him was in no apart of anything she experienced while in hell. He didn’t become involved in any of it until he was rescuing her and Stiles.

Peter was her anchor in reality right now. Perhaps if things had been different, it could’ve been Allison, but that… that was over now. Allison was ripped away.

Lydia felt more tea sliding down her face at her thoughts on Allison alone disregarding how overwhelming everything was right now.

Looking to Peter, Lydia asked, “Is everyone okay?”

Peter said, “I think so, but I’m not fully updated yet.”

Lydia frowned. That was not a good sign to her mind. Although her tears wouldn’t stop, Lydia tried taking focused, deep breaths. She knew she needed to reign in herself.

Stiles was hurt and she had no clue how bad yet. It was clearly very serious if Peter had to bite him and still seemed to fear Stiles might now make it though he didn’t say as much. Christopher was left behind, likely throwing his life away over Allison being gone. Who knew where Scott, Theo, Deaton, or any of the hunters were.

Deep in. Deep out. Lydia needed to compartmentalize. Someone had to take hold. Peter was visibly struggling even though he was trying to hide it. Lydia needed to get it together. The pack would trust any of the Alpha pack to lead and Derek was doubtlessly hurting from her screaming directly into him.

No, Lydia had to get it together. There was no other way. She had to get herself together.

Once the nurses seemed to be working to just settle her in, Lydia squeezed Peter’s hand to draw his attention away from what he was listening to and the texts he was reading. Once she felt she had his full attention, Lydia said, “I want you to go to Stiles. Send Mel my way, and—”

Lydia suddenly felt a force hit her square in the chest, knocking all the air out of her lungs. Gasping for air, she looked to Peter, unable to hide her fear as she felt her eyes flare.

Peter looked to her in unbridled terror. He scooped her up, unhooking her from the Iv unintentionally as he ran carrying her to Stiles.

Chapter Text

Back in Gerard’s torture room…

With no sight, sound, and very minimal touch, Lydia’s mind felt like she’d been in the void for forever quickly after waking up to it. She back tracked as best she could to her last memory before the blackness: the mall. Scott. Stiles! Allison!

Where were they?! Where was she?!

Gerard had been there. Others with him too.

Giving moving a try to seek out the others, Lydia found that she was strapped tight to some form of chair. She couldn’t see or hear anything. It wasn’t that it was quiet or dark. No, there was something over her eyes and something over her ears. Sticking her tongue out, she was able to confirm there was nothing over her mouth. That likely meant that they had no fear of her calling for help being heard. Would this place be like where they’d managed to rescue Deucalion from?

Lydia knew what the lack of sensory stimulation likely meant: this was sensory deprivation torture. Some people called it “white torture,” which could cause hallucinations as well as makes prisoners more vulnerable to manipulation from the psychological breakdowns that resulted from such torture.

Swallowing hard, Lydia could only taste her own dry mouth. To try and calm herself, Lydia went through what she knew about the torture. It seemed more Stiles-like than she’d ever admit, but Stiles had shared with her a thing or two about torture techniques after he’d survived Gerard hurting him back when Allison thought werewolves were evil for a bit there.

Not willing to succumb so easily to these tactics, Lydia started with the facts. Usually, this kind of torture was all about deprivation. According to what Stiles had told her, this was often done in bright white rooms, hence people sometimes calling it by that, but the idea was for no shadows or evidence of difference, including only feeding prisoners white bland foods on white trays even.

Gerard was surely who had them or some sadist hunter helping the old jerk, so Lydia felt pretty securely that they were using the blackness rather than a white room as they could not help but be lazy cliches. It was as if they could not help themselves from a lazy reenactment of a low-quality horror film from the silent film era.

Okay, she thought, they’re trying to make me crazy, feed on my fears to break me down so that they can either interrogate me for information later and or use me as a pawn to force the others to do or say something. However, even as a pawn, there was no promise of protection nor being cared for. Just meant they may not brutally maim her outright. It could even mean just letting her starve to force others to surrender or give up information with her life in the balance.

Sighing at herself, Lydia forced herself to not go too deep into a possible pit of despair. While she probably couldn’t plan her way out of this as she felt strapped tight—almost too tight, she knew getting out of this on her own was unlikely.

Trying to keep it together the longer and longer she felt like she was there, Lydia tried to think of anything she could use to keep her mind straight. First, she went through the names of all her teachers, then her relatives. After that, the list of those she considered friends, members of the pack, core members and temp Alpha pack members. Then was listing the Hales she knew to be alive and then any other Hales she knew about.

Time kept crawling by, and she was starting to run out of lists. It was moments like this she kind of wondered where Stiles came up with endless things to chatter on about. With a sigh, Lydia began to start doing her times tables: 1x1=1, 1x2=2 1x3=3… 9x9=81, 9x10=90… 9x27=243, 9x28=252… 9x99=891…

Eventually, tired of multiplication, Lydia began to list the sciences in alphabetical order: Acanthology, A…

Soon though, Lydia felt like she was floating, lost in an abyss with no one thing here or there. Just an endless nothingness.

The next thing she knew, Lydia felt someone taking something off her ears so that she could hear before taking off what was on her eyes.

She opened her eyes to see Erica there, talking to her.

Lydia couldn’t understand what Erica was saying. The words coming too fast, blurring together.

Then suddenly, Lydia is screaming Stiles’ name.

Next, she’s screaming Allison’s name.

Lydia couldn’t hear her own scream, but she felt like a rawness in her throat and a pounding in her head at the force of it. The room she was in must not be too big if she was get any reverb from her scream. Then again, was that even what she felt? The feeling was already gone but it wasn’t enough. She wanted more, more sensations, more sensory information!

Everything was a floating abyss again soon. In the blackness, Lydia knew that Erica hadn’t been real. Was her scream for Stiles real? Allison?

Suppressing a shiver at those thoughts, Lydia tried to refocus her mind, but soon she felt herself being rescued again. First the covering on her eyes was removed. She looked into Stiles’ pale, expressionless face. He was bleeding and taking the covering off her ears.

Lydia opens her mouth to speak, but no words, no sound comes.

Then, she screams his name as though calling out of his death, again.

Back to the abyss again. Lydia floated longer this time, by her own measure. She wondered if this is what “white room” torture felt like to others when in an actually white room. She considered listing the sciences, doing more math, but to what use? What good would it do?

Eventually, sleep finally came for Lydia.

Opening her eyes, Lydia could see. She was no longer tied up, no longer deprived of sound. She was in the preserve. Lydia had no idea why she knew that, but she felt certain no less. She bent down and touched the ground. It was real, had texture. Everything was just so. Looking around, Lydia frowned, recognizing right where she was: the edge of the clearing.

Straightening up, Lydia watched quietly from beside the trees as two people were knelt down before the tree stump that was the Nemeton. Focusing, Lydia realized who she was looking at: Alan Deaton and Gerard Argent!

She can’t make out what they’re saying, but while neither looks any different in age, they seem somehow younger. Not by decades, but certainly by at least a couple years. Lydia can’t put her finger on one detail or another as to why she thinks this, but she remains careful to draw no attention to herself as she watches them.

Then the unimaginable occurs. Out of nowhere, a door seems to open atop the Nemeton and a woman takes a step through and onto the stump. Once she is fully through the door, it closes behind her. She worn late 1500s garb of royalty, nobility.

The woman tried to step off the stump toward Alan Deaton and Gerard, but was stop was the flashing of some kind of prism-like shielding magic. The woman them growled—literally growled, demanding loudly, “What is this?!”

The woman then spared a brief glance to Lydia, making direct eye contact and winking at her before the woman turned the full force of her gaze upon Alan and Gerard.

The woman looked strangely familiar to Lydia. She couldn’t quite place her, but Lydia had seen that face before, somewhere.

However, after that wink, Lydia could hear everything said clearly as though she was standing right over there not where she was. Additionally, neither Alan nor Gerard had yet to recognize that she was even there still.

What was this?

Seemingly not bothering really with Alan, Gerard demand, “I’ve come to make a deal. I have desires, and you are going to give them to me.”

It was then that Lydia noticed a shimmering collar and leash on Deaton as it caught in the sunlight. Was Alan a prisoner of Gerards?

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Present, Beacon Hills Hospital…

Being carried by Peter with her mind racing, Lydia felt her fear intensify as they burst into where Stiles was being treated.

Stiles was stripped of his clothing and had several spots where there were started efforts at stitches and bandages as well as effort to clean him up more so the doctors could see what was happening. However, none of the doctors or nurses were touching him as at the moment because the doctor had announced, “Clear,” before putting the shock paddles to Stiles’ still bloody chest. After waiting a moment to see if his heart would restart, but there being no heartrate on the machines, the doctor again announced, “Clear,” before shocking his heart again.

Peter growled at the doctors then stared at Melissa—“OUT! EVERYONE!”

The wolf seemed to barely keep control even as he stood frighteningly still as though even a shiver could shatter him. So far, he still had his human blue eyes but those in the know were aware it wouldn’t last.

Mel’s eyes went wide as she quickly got to ushering the others out even as several people sought to stay and continue with CPR or other potentially life-saving procedures.

Once the room was cleared and as he still carried her, Peter moved to Stiles’ side before setting Lydia down beside the bed Stiles was on.

Peter then got up on the bed with Stiles and cradled the teen in his arms.

Lydia just stood there. She had no idea how to help or quite what to do. Unable to conjure another option as Peter wrapped himself around Stiles, Lydia softly took one of Stiles’ too pale hands.

Looking to Peter as a child might an adult, Lydia let her voice get serious, going to that other worldly place her voice did when Banshee screaming someone’s name. “Peter? Peter. We have to save him—tell me how… we have to. He would do this for us.”

Peter looked at Lydia the second time she said his name, eyes blow black, revealing that Peter was no longer who was in control of Peter’s body. “What would you give to have him back?”

Lydia tilted her head faintly like the wolf she could never be. “What is the price?”

The Nogitsune smiled with too many teeth. “Power… I have the knowledge, and once started, I can feed on the chaos to seal it, but I need a spark to restart the fire.”

Lydia nodded. She knew the longer they took the worse this would be. Understanding that the familial Hale spark meant so much to so many in the pack, Lydia chose the less meaningful to Peter, saying, “Use Peter’s Alpha spark.”

Still smiling, likely already getting a taste of the current chaos and turmoil and salivating for more, the Nogitsune in Peter’s body shifted his bodily position to straddle Stiles’ corpse. Before visibly doing anything more, the Nogitsune said, “You must know… or, I must share, per my existing agreement with Peter, that this is going to hurt both of them and have consequences. Not all of which I can predict.”

Lydia swallowed a metaphoric lump despite her dry throat. “Will it hurt them anymore than what the hunters have done to Stiles?”

The Nogitsune frowned, looking down at Stiles. “I doubt it. The things done to him… by hunter and others over his life, even his mother repeatedly trying to kill him, will be less painful in a lot of ways than what has happened to him during his time captured just based on the evidence on his body and the scents of where he was, the scents on him now.”

Tears running rapidly down her cheeks, Lydia nodded, as she said, “Then do it.”

The Nogitsune held the arms he possessed overhead as though summoning something larger than himself. Then, before Lydia eyes, even though Peter’s arms were still raised as if frozen in supplication to some unknown higher power, the smoke and shadows of the Nogitsune bent at the waist to lean over and cup Stiles’ cheeks tenderly before opening the teen’s mouth and exhaling visible flashes of spark into the teen’s parted lips.

Although it seemed like long years of flashes pouring into Stiles, just as quickly as the Nogitsune had appeared to lean over Stiles, the demon fox straightened back up to aligns with Peter’s body before they both collapsed, falling off of the hospital bed.

Then, Stiles suddenly shot to sitting up with a primal, guttural scream.

Lydia just stared, frozen in the moment even as doctors and nurses rushed in along with Melissa.

Catching her senses, Lydia quickly moved herself to Peter’s side, crouching down and stroking Peter’s face while whispering, “Thank you.”

Lydia kissed Peter’s forehead softly before rising to say, “He needs help, Mel.”

McCall moved to Lydia’s side, muttering, “Explain it to me later.”

Nodding even though she wasn’t sure if she planned to ever explain or not, Lydia said, “Text Noah. Tell him that he and Erica need to take Derek to Isaac’s room. You should take Peter there to meet them. He needs rest and an iv as well as pack.”

Frowning at the teen girl, Mel said, “Fine, but we need to finish getting you checked out.”

Lydia shook her head. “I’m gonna text Jackson to come grab me. None of us should be alone right now. It’s not safe.”

Even as she spoke, Lydia felt a certain kind of darkness welling up inside her. She hoped it would help her hold it together for everyone else while they got all of this sorted. What she left out to Mel was that she had no phone. She gently felt along the pack bonds, looking for her ex and gently tugging him to come to her.

Soon, Jackson burst through the door, looking alarmed and confused in equal measure.

Chapter Text

Back in Gerard’s torture room…

A noise—Lydia was sure she heard a noise. She looked up, seeing she was in the clearing with in the preserve. She touched a nearby tree and felt it shiver at her touch. She looked to her hand where it met with the tree and saw her hand to be nothing but bones—no skin, no muscle… just bones, but they moved as any hand may.

Although she wasn’t one for getting too emotionally attached to a tree, Lydia felt sympathy suddenly for it being touched by living bones of all things. Somehow she did not really react to her hand being just bones. She removed her hand before turning her attention back to the tree stump that she knew to be the Nemeton.

Sitting cross-legged on the tree stump was Isaac. He seemed to not notice her at all with his eyes seeming to be closed with his hands resting on his knees.

Suddenly, Lydia was back floating in the nothingness without sight, sound, or even touch. Absently, she wondered if her binding were too tight and cutting off the blood flow, thus numbing her out. Before she could really react to that, Lydia felt someone remove that things on her ears and then the thing over her eyes.

Stiles was knelt before her, bloody but alive and moving of his own accord. “Shh… we have to get out of here. They’re blocking us from the pack somehow. They can’t feel our pack bonds, and I can’t feel their. It must be some kind of magic, or they’ve captured another magical creature and are forcing it to do so.”

Lydia just stared. Was it real this time? It was Stiles, right? Right?!

Stiles stroked her cheek softly before untying her and helping her onto her feet shakily.

Looking down at her bear feet, Lydia then looked to Stiles only to see it was actually Scott. How had she mistaken him for Stiles? Lydia pushed at Scott weakly—how long had she been captured? She was so much weaker than normal!

Scott didn’t seem to feel it, grabbing a tighter hold of her and pulling her from the room as he spoke. “We have to hurry. Stiles has Allison, and we’re all getting out of here!”

Lydia felt her mind seem to stutter, but she hurried her steps to keep up with Scott’s dragging: this was no time for her arm to be dislocated from her shoulder socket! Keeping up, Lydia couldn’t deny the place terrifying with blood dribbling all over. It was as if a hurricane of violence had come through only moments before they got into the hallway. How was it possible they were in a house when she and others had to be making so much noise?!

Scott kept pulling her along until they got to what Lydia assumed had to be the front door.

The door before them burst open as Chris Argent kicked it open. “Hurry up… Gerard’s returning soon!”

Tears in her eyes, Lydia fought to hold herself together as she nodded and went with Scott to meet up with and leave with Chris.

Suddenly, Lydia was back in her body with something over her ears and over her eyes. She cried harder as the realization of the escape, though confusing, having not been real. Crying, she wanted to scream until she had no breath left, but she felt so weak. That hadn’t been just in what she’s hallucinated. She felt so, so weak. Keeping her eyes open felt pointless as well as a hard order to give.

She felt so hungry. Thirsty too. Lydia wanted out, wanted to save her friends. Why couldn’t she figure out how to get loose? She was supposed to be a genius! She was supposed to be strong young woman!

Not only did Lydia have no idea how to escape or save anyone right now, she also cried for the pack having not come for her yet. Wasn’t that part of the point of pack? Isn’t that part of what Stiles had explained it as? As a promise that if something happened, pack would look for you, rescue you.

A shiver ran through Lydia and she steeled herself. She reminded herself that she needed to hold it together, needed to hold on. She had to give them time to find her. She had no clue how long it had been and couldn’t give up just because things were hard. She knew if she were out she’d do everything she could to rescue the others. Lydia had to hold on.

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Present, Beacon Hills Hospital…

After Jackson came into the room, Lydia held up her hand to stop Jackson from speaking before offering him her other hand and flashing her now red eyes.

The implied Alpha order of silence seemed to rattle into Jackson as he nodded and took her hand.

Holding Jackson’s hand, Lydia said aloud, “I’m going back to the room I was in. Please have them be quick about the checkup. I have things to do.”

Rolling her shoulders Stiles style, Lydia got moving. She kept to herself that she had so much more to deal with than she could even remotely try to explain, having let the Nogitsune into herself while Peter was unconscious for a brief moment before releasing it back into Peter. She knew the older pack member had more need.

Lydia knew she needed to be strong for the pack as well as strong to hold herself together. Holding Jackson’s hand tightly, she hooked that arm with his without letting go of his hand as they walked back to her room. Lydia slowly and calmly sat on the examine table in the room without ever letting go of Jackson.

A number of medical professionals came in and hooked her back up to an iv to provide hydration as well as nutrients. They took her stats as well as examined where her arms and wrists had been bound.

Being patient, Lydia was mostly quiet, giving nods and shaking her head. They only asked surface questions directly in line with her medical and health well-being rather than in-depth questions of what happened to her, especially as Deputy Jordan Parish joined the room.

It was being made very clear that this was an active investigation.

Once the medical professionals had gotten her set up and agreed that the best coarse of action for her would be rest as well as pushing fluids and nutrients, Lydia watched them leave her room for the Deputy to take out a notebook.

Deputy Parrish asked, “May I speak to you, Ms. Martin, about what happened?”

Biting back a sigh at not wanting to deal with this right now, Lydia nodded, “Yes, but there is a limit to how much help I can be.”

“A limit how?” the Deputy asked.

Lydia took a breath, “Well, after we were taken, I was put some place where I could not see, hear, or engage with anything. I was left in what I believe is called sensory deprivation torture.”

The Deputy tilted his head faintly. “Are you sure it was intended as torture? As intentional?”

Lydia glared at the Deputy. “Yes, I am one hundred percent sure it was intentional. Gerard Argent is a monster.”

Frowning, Deputy Parish asked, “How so?”

Although she was tempted to tell him everything, Lydia took a deep breath and picked her words carefully. “He is a hateful man. Gerard hated that his granddaughter, my girlfriend, Allison Argent, was dating a Hispanic teen Scott McCall. He also was hateful when Allison came out as dating me. He was a very prejudice man who abused his own son, Christopher Argent when the man was growing up.’

“Gerard even became a principal at the High school for a time to further police and control not only his granddaughter but other teenagers he did not like, including but not limited too Scott McCall, Vernon Boyd, and Stiles Stilinski.”

Jackson pulled Lydia into a hug as she began shaking. There was so much more she wanted to say. She snuggled into Jackson for a moment, subtly rubbing his back to impart comfort. She couldn’t do the neck grip she’d seen the other wolves do. Not because she couldn’t pull it off, but she couldn’t signal his wolf that things were okay right now because they very much were not.

Swallowing her and pulling back while still holding Jackson’s hand with tears running down her face, Lydia continued. “Gerard used Scott McCall to distract Allison, Stiles, and I when we were at the mall. Taking advantage of Scott and Allison’s brutal breakup, and Scott’s remaining but not reciprocated feelings, Gerard and his goons managed to take Ally, Stiles, and I from the mall. I didn’t see how he got Allison, but I’m sure he did. She would never have left us if she’d had any other choice. I was taken with a needle before I could call out for help. I lost consciousness quickly, whatever it was. I think I heard Stiles struggling before I lost awareness.”

Deputy Parish seemed shocked at how blunt the teenager was with her words. The man seemed to take a moment to reflect on what to say next, asking, “Do you know where they kept you? What do your remember of escaping?”

Lydia shrugged, “Honestly, it was dark and disorienting when the things over my ears and eyes were removed. I know someone came… a man, and he may have had Stiles too. I think I passed out. I felt so weak… then I was in the truck and we were arriving here. All I could think about was trying to understand what was happening and asking where Allison was.”

Frowning more, the Deputy asked, “Do you know what the answer to that is?”

Choosing her words carefully, Lydia said, “I don’t know. I fear she’s dead since she’s not here, but everything’s been a rush since we got here. I really don’t know for sure.”

Tears coming on stronger, Lydia intentionally curled into Jackson, letting out wrecking sobs around muttered apologies.

Deputy Parish nodded, saying, “I’m so sorry for adding stress onto this harrowing experience. I will check back with you potentially after we’ve managed to square some of these blank spots.”

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Later…

Still holding hands, Jackson and Lydia walked into Isaac’s hospital room as Stiles with the help of a doctor and four nurses was being moved into the room to be Isaac’s roommate.

Lydia kept one hand in Jackson’s while here other hand held onto her iv stand to pull it along with her on its rickety wheels.

Together, Jackson and Lydia stood off to the side and out of the way.

Even though he was conscious, Stiles looked rough. His eyes were swollen shut and he still had tear tracks running down from them even though the nurses kept cleaning them from his face. Mel was working extra hard, it seemed, to help get Stiles as comfortable as she could.

Although the hospital room was only meant for two long term patients with a small settee for company as well as a chair beside each bed, there was also a cot bed pushed up between Isaac’s bed, accompanying machines on one side and the wall. On the cot lay a visibly exhausted Peter Hale.

Cora, Adrian, Deucalion, Aiden, and Boyd were crammed in on the other side of Isaac’s bed. The rest of the pack were in among the lobbies of the hospital and Noah was with Derek, helping the later toward Isaac’s room slowly but surely.

Lydia watched what was happening. She knew she needed to wait for the doctor and other nurses to be satisfied, so they’d leave.

Even with not feeling patient, Lydia could feel the pack around her tense with fear and concern. There were a lot of questions not being asked, but a lot of that was likely due to the additional company they currently had.

Focusing for a moment on Jackson’s hand in hers, Lydia reminded herself that she needed to keep a hold of herself together. She had a pack to take of. She also had a wounded, hopefully not fully broken ex-Alpha of hers, Stiles, that was also a new turn. Additionally, Lydia had an again ex-Alpha Peter with his anchor so brutalized by his sworn enemy, the man who helped burn up the Hales alive in their own home.

While she could feel the bonds rattling with fear and uncertainty, Lydia gently reached out to steady them with righteous fury. She wasn’t mad at her pack. No, she was mad at those who thought it was okay to torture and brutalize teenagers. To torture and brutalize the innocent in one form or another. To torture and brutalize the victims in one form or another.

Lydia knew it was likely getting too into feral Peter territory, but she was only willing to limit herself so much. The world would not burn. That’s not how they would pay. No, Lydia wouldn’t do things like Peter had. She wouldn’t do them entirely like Stiles would either. Lydia understood a need for balance, but who was she to judge if her balance leaned a bit darker, like midnight on a full moon more than noon, midday.

When the doctor and nurses, except for Mel, had left, Stiles spoke quietly into the room yet was still herd loud and clear. “Am I… am I really out… free?”

Lydia, still holding Jackson’s hand and her iv stand, moved to Stiles’ side. She let go of the iv stand to touch Stiles softly, not minding when her fellow teen flinched, aware of just how intense things were right now. “Yes, we got out.”

Stiles choked out, “Allison?”

Shaking her head softly, Lydia said, “Peter said she and Scott didn’t make it.”

Tears continuing to roll from his eyes, Stiles asked. “I passed on my Alpha spark… the Hale spark. Who received it?”

Keeping to herself the intense sorrow she felt looking at her friend, her Alpha, Lydia said. “It came to me. A Banshee Alpha. Honestly, never saw it coming. When you’re feeling better, healed up, we’ll discuss it, okay? I can even give it back whenever you want or need.”

She softly squeezed Stiles’ hand, whispering softly, “Right now, you need to rest. I’ll take care of things, okay?”

Stiles whimpered, “Promise?”

Tears leaking from her eyes, Lydia said: “I promise.”

Leaning back further, letting himself relax some it seemed, Stiles fell into a fitful sleep.

At the same time, Noah brought Derek into the room.

Lydia leaned down and kissed Stiles’ forehead before re-grabbing her iv stand and pulling back with it and Jackson. She then said, “Derek, I need you to stick to Stiles like glue. Being a fresh turn, he needs an Alpha with him.”

Derek grunted. “Why not Peter? They’re usually together, and he’s an Alpha too. I’m still healing.”

Lydia shook her head. “No, he’s not. The Nogitsune burned up Peter’s spark to save Stiles’ life after he died.”

Noah sounded choked as he gasped, “What?!”

Shaking her head, Lydia said, “He’s going to be okay now. The fox was able to save him. We can’t let Stiles fully heal yet though. It was just enough to make sure he lives and will be okay. His being bitten took, but he’s holding off the full healing because I told the Nogitsune to make it that way, and he communicated its necessity to Stiles.”

Derek was watching in shock. “But if he died… the Hale spark?”

Lydia looked sadly to Derek and flashed her eyes. “Stiles passed it to me before he died, probably wanting to make sure it stayed in the pack when he felt himself dying.”

Tears began to fall from Derek’s eyes.

Lydia looked around to the pack present, saying, “The others are on their way here. Once we’re all crammed in here, I’m going to break down what’s going to happen next.

After about ten more minutes, Erica, Kira, Ethan, and, shockingly to everyone but the Alpha, Lydia’s mother were all in the room.

During those ten minutes, Lydia had gently woken Peter and accepted the Nogitsune from him. She’d also let the Nogitsune into Stiles for a sweep through to see if there was anything important that Stiles knew that she needed to know for what was coming next.

When the Nogitsune was finished, Lydia accepted them back into herself fighting back a growl at Deaton having been involved at all. Well, that was one more thing to add to the list of things that needed sorting.

Noah seemed surprised to see Natalie Martin among them. He looked full of questions but seemed to take the cue to wait.

Taking a few deep breaths to settle herself and the Nogitsune within her first, Lydia then began to speak. “Mel, Derek, Boyd, Adrian, and Ethan—you will all be staying here with Stiles and Isaac. Mom, you’ll be here too. The others can fill you in on what’s going on after this.”

Natalie Martin looked confused about everything going on, yet she kept looking worriedly at her daughter at seeing her hooked up to an iv yet commanding the room no less.

Lydia then said, “Noah, I’m going to have you head team two. I need you to bring only you most trusted officers.”

Noah frowned. “What do you mean? I’m staying here to protect my son.”

Shaking her head in answer, Lydia moved on, “Deucalion, Peter, Cora, Aiden, and I will be going back as team one to sweep through where Stiles and I were held. We’re going to free anyone we can who may still be there and save Christopher Argent if we can get there in time to do so.’

“Erica, you’re going with Noah. You were witnessed helping to bring Stiles and I to the hospital to get help. You’re an official witness, and—"

Before Lydia could continue, Jackson demanded: “I’ll go with you on team one. I won’t let you out of my sight.”

Smiling sadly, Lydia said. “You need to go with Erica. In all the chaos, we’re going to claim you were with Erica, discovering what had happened, finding us and getting Peter to come help. You two are the key witnesses. You’re going to tell the police just enough to get them out there. We’re going to leave bodies and evidence to make the deaths legit, not missing persons. It will cover Noah as well as the rest of us by telling as much truth as we possibly can. I want no mistakes. I don’t any of this to come back on us.’

“I also want to send a message with what we do. I am done with one threat after another coming to pick us off. No more playing nice. Scott’s ways got him killed as far as I can see. We’re not doing that.”

Mel asked, almost timidly, “Are you really sure Scott is dead?”

Peter spoke up then, “Yes. I saw his body with my own eyes. They drove him insane. After he was driven fully feral, he appears to have killed Allison and then himself in remorse at what he’d done.”

Eyes filled with tears, Mel covered her face as she dropped to her knees in tears and body quaking sobs.

Lydia said softly, “I’m so sorry, Mel. His death will not go unaccounted for. They will pay.”

Noah moved to hold and try soothing Mel as he asked. “Taking a page from Peter’s handbook?”

Peter perked a brow and several others looked to Lydia.

With nothing soothing to do with her face or even hands, Lydia spoke. “No. I’m making my own. I can’t be like Stiles. I can’t be like Peter or even Derek either. I can only be myself, and I will not stand for this, for what Gerard and his lackeys have done. And I won’t leave Chris behind to get himself killed if I can help it.”

Looking around the room, Lydia continued, “I intend to honor Stiles’ deal with the Alpha pack; however, I will add to it that this is your chance to walk away should you choose. I am not taking this violence lying down and I am taking the fight to them. Not just today, tonight, but until justice is done I’m not waiting. I’m going straight to them to rip out the pounds of flesh owed. You can choose to stay here, out of the action; you can choose to just leave since this is only the beginning; or you can join me to deal with this horrendous mess.”

Deucalion grinned with too many teeth, saying, “Let the blood splatter and spill.”

Neither Aiden nor Ethan looked nearly so excited at their Alpha, but they too nodded to Lydia.

Nodding back, Lydia said, “Then it’s set. Team one is leaving with me now. Mel, please keep my leaving on the down low. Adrian, please grab a blanket and lay in the cot or something so that they believe Peter too is still here. Noah, please stick to Jackson and Erica. There is crucial safety in numbers. I’ll text them when it’s time to start heading here. Erica, can you manage a fake seizure to take some focus off of us all for a bit?”

Erica nodded. She looked scared like all the other teens.

Understanding, Lydia said. “I know you all are scared. I’m scared too, but we need to strike back quickly to catch them unprepared. We can’t let this rest. Stay here, don’t stray from this room those of you who are staying here. Noah, you can take Jackson and Erica like you’re intending to ask them questions and learn more about what is going on and once around others, Erica can fake the seizure.”

Noah then said, “And what about the hunters that hit our homes?”

Peter growled sub-vocally.

Boyd spoke up. “They hit here too. I think they were hoping to pick us all off while we were trying to figure out where the others went.”

Frowning, Lydia sighed. “We’re going to deal with that next. Hopefully, while at where Stiles and I were held prisoner, we might find some evidence tying to those attacks.”

With a nod, Boyd added. “Them hitting here went undocumented, but Derek’s place and Stiles’ involved the local Deputies.”

Lydia nodded. She felt her mind mulling things over while the Nogitsune was rummaging through her mind like a thrift store seeking deals. She accepted it, aware she’d need the fox’s help to get through what they were about to do.

After giving her Mom a hug and promising the others would explain, Lydia left with the rest of team one to go get Chris and anyone else they could save.

Chapter Text

Lydia and the rest of team one waited in Stiles and Isaac’s room. It would probably look awkward to those not in the know, but what did that really matter?

Roughly fifteen minutes later, the group could hear chaos erupt a little way away from the room.

Knowing it was Erica faking a seizure, Lydia with the Nogitsune instead her and Peter’s help lead group one in sneaking out of the hospital. Soon, piled into Derek’s SUV that he’d seemingly used to bring others to the hospital.

Peter drove with Lydia sitting beside him and the rest in the back.

Lydia gave marching orders as they got out of city limits: “We’re wanting to get what information were can, save whoever else might still be there in terms of prisoners as well as Chris, and we want to leave no evidence of tampering. Noah and the deputies are coming in behind us as a legitimate investigatory team.”

Deucalion asked, “And if we should run into Gerard?”

Lydia acknowledged, “As long as you leave no evidence, do as you, Peter, and Cora please… he owes you there the most.”

Peter asked while not taking his eyes off the road, “Don’t want you own pound of flesh?”

With a hollow excuse for a laugh, Lydia admitted, “There’ll never be enough flesh for him taking Allison just as I feel each of you feel about all that you’ve lost; however, you all have lost much, much more than I have. As much a I hurt, I cannot fathom how much each of you have and still do. I won’t take that from you all.”

Nodding, Peter then asked, “If Chris is in rough shape, do we pull back?”

Not even pausing for thought, Lydia answered, “No. He’ll be bitten, if Deucalion or Aiden are willing.”

-----------------------------------------------------

Peter pulled over the vehicle a ways away from the base and parked the vehicle several feet from the road to help it go unnoticed as he said, “I want us to have more distance from the base. They know now that we know they’re here. We need to be more careful.”

Once fully parked and the SUV was turned off, Peter got out and started to grab branches and debris to further disguise the vehicle from easy notice by passing vehicles. They were out in an area that was unlikely to have pedestrian traffic, but with the base, they had to be careful about vehicles passing.

With everyone out of the SUV, they all helped some to disguise the SUV. A secure escape was just as crucial as an effective entrance, and they all knew it.

That done, they all began walking toward the hunter base with Peter at the front to guide the way.

Easily still at least fifteen minutes out, they all began to smell it: smoke, burning.

Not hesitating for even a milli-second, Peter broke out in a run toward the source of the smoke scent, the burning sounds. He didn’t listen for or check if Deuc or anyone else were following him.

None of that mattered. Nothing mattered except the fire, the licking flames that Peter saw as he burst out from the tree line to see something less violent than expected, in a way that caused Peter to miss a beat even as his skin crawled inside and out.

Flames would always have a special, terrifying place within him.

A brutally bloodied and strangely ghostly pale Chris Argent stood before three hunters, recognizable from the strong scents of Wolf’s Bane and Mistletoe coming from them, that were on their knees. The hunters were young teenagers and bloodied, but nonetheless they were alive, perfectly still.

In the background of the hunters and Chris, there were three rows of a dozen hunters each with the same scents mingling with unadulterated terror per line, each hunter had a stake shoved into the ground while standing up threw the bottom of their lower bodies and up through their heads. All their mouths were open in a scream as though they may have been alive when this was done to them.

At a closer look, the hunters were not stabbed through with wooden stakes. It appeared tree roots had shot up from the ground to impale every one of them individually. Additionally, the hunters were all on fire even though the tree root spikes were untouched by the flames consuming the bodies hungrily.

The dead bodies seemed a mockery of Gerard’s preferred method of bifurcating the living bodies of the supernatural creatures he came upon.

Peter was shaken from his shock as Deuc and the others caught up to him in time to see the Chris turn around to face them.

After a clearly hard swallow, Christopher straightened up to his full height and spoke with a voice not his own: “What do you seek?”

Lydia stepped forward, brushing a hand along Peter’s arm as she passed him. “To free innocents… gather information. We then aim to bring the cops here to bring the full force of the human law down on Gerard Argent’s head, so that he is safe nowhere.’

“Are there any other hunters inside?”

Chris tilted his head at an unnatural angle before asking, “And what would you have of my son?”

Not daring to break eye contact, Lydia answered without hesitation or a stutter of her heart. “I would have him as a member of my pack.”

Chris tilted his head unnaturally to the other side. “But you are a Banshee. Are you not threatened by a ghost possessing a human? Are you not threatened by my son being a hunter?”

Smiling softly as she stepped forward to touch Chris’ arm and flashed her Alpha red eyes, Lydia said, “Chris is a protector. He is not a hunter like the others you’ve made sure are being destroyed. He is not what his father wanted him to be, and it makes him all the stronger for it.”

Chris smiled too. “Take these young hunters to help you.”

Lydia looked to the young hunters, then asked, “Can we trust them?”

Chris tilted his head to an unnatural angle again. “Only for as long as I am here, and I cannot stay forever. Take them and be fast. Never leave them unsupervised though.”

Lydia nodded. “We won’t. We’ll try to be quick so the police can get in here and destroy Gerard with what he’s built here.”

Chris nodded. “I will hold my son here to keep things in order until you come back out. He found the explosives. I would’ve missed them. It seems my son endured and learned too much from his father. I will repent my not being strong enough for him for my long, undead life.”

Not even shivering at the unnatural cold of the experience, Lydia hugged Chris close to hug the ghost within, whispering. “This is your penance. I will take this and release you when we come out, then I will make no where in this world safe for that monster or those who dare work with him.”

As he was let go, Chris nodded with wet eyes. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Stepping back, Lydia nodded, “I’d expect nothing less.”

With that, Lydia motioned for Peter to lead them forward as she said to the group and the boys, “We’ll need to grab bags where we can and leave no fingerprints on anything that stays.”

Eyes flashing blue with feral determination, Peter grinned and nodded, visibly fighting the urge to howl.

Lydia touched his arm softly, cooing, “I know. When we’re home, we’ll all howl together. I promise.”

Peter nodded again before leading team one and the three hunter teens into the building.

Lydia looked to the teen hunters as the whole group was in the elevator heading down and asked them, “Is there a map or layout of where prisoners and other things are?”

The young hunter in the woolen coat spoke. “No hard copy, but we know the way. Gerard made us memorize it all.”

Peter asked, “Are the sections separate?”

The twin in the red jacket said, “Sort of mixed. Prisoners are mixed with weapons caches and a couple alternative exits. All the documents are split between the—”

“Primary weapons cache and the rest in with the shortest growing tunnel,” the twin in the brown jacket interrupted with.

Deuc asked, “Lydia, are we wanting to raid whatever they’re growing?”

Lydia shook her head no. “That’s not as big an issue. May take a bit, but we’re leaving nearly all of it.”

As the elevator landed in the caves and the door opened, Peter stepped out and motioned for the others to join. “Were the teenage prisoners kept in the same hallway as the other prisoners?”

All three hunters shook their heads no even as the brunette added while pointing, “But the primary exit and the shortest growing tunnel are down that hallway.”

Keeping his groan inside himself, Peter nodded.

Lydia then perked a brow at Peter.

Hale shrugged with a sigh, saying, “Deuc, take the back with red coat, brunette—take point with me.”

Adding on, Lydia said, “Aiden and Cora stick with me alongside brown coat.”

The brunette said. “Names Rod. They’re Sam and Grit.”

Deuc grunted. It said nothing and everything all at once: he didn’t care.

Peter kept his feelings, his intentions to himself. “Which direction are the prisoners?”

As they moved, Lydia paid intense attention to their surroundings. She could hear the ghosts… hear the whines and cries of those long passed fatally through these halls. It was almost a ringing in her head.

In a red jacket, one of the twins pointed toward the hallway not taken in the rescue efforts. He then added, “That way, but a lot of the doors are locked, and we don’t have keys or passwords.”

Lydia and Peter made eye contact. The later shrugged.

Not really feeling like they had time for too much planning, Peter asked, “Are there traps?”

Rod shook his head. “Not really. Closest thing to it is some poisons rubbed on door handles against creatures escaping.”

No one bothered to comment on that.

A shiver ran down Lydia’s spine as though a ghost had passed through her. She felt like she was walking amongst the dead even though she was very clearly alive.

Peter pointed with his chin toward the hallway with the remaining prisoners.

Cora kept looking from Peter to Lydia as they all walked, seemingly noticing the way Lydia was almost floating through as though not tuned into what they were physically doing.

Within Lydia’s mind, she heard the smoker’s cough of a voice that was Nogitsune: ‘Listen… listen to the whispers. Don’t turn away. There is nothing to be afraid of. They aren’t strong enough to hurt you, not these ones. The ghost in Chris is keeping the violent ones harmless for us.’

Not quite in a trance, Lydia was experiencing ghosts around them as well as those physically with her. Without touching things, remembering the fingerprint avoidance, Lydia let herself just feel the space energetically.

The Nogitsune helped to guide her through experiencing dual experience as well as keeping her moving and grounded to Peter.

Lydia knew Peter was her anchor, so she kept checking for him periodically, to reconfirm this was real, reconfirm she wasn’t still locked in sensory deprivation.

Peter pointed with his chin toward the hallway with the remaining prisoners before taking the front with Rod, moving down the hallway with confidence.

They all came to a stop at Rod’s hand wave to gather attention while speaking. “Try not to vomit or get too close. She’s rabid.”

Rod then moved and pulled the blanket off the door, revealing it was a keyhole style lock on the door.

Peter approached the door, dropping the claws on one hand. He then, using a claw, picked the door’s lock. He then pulled the door open. Although he had expected a worse for wear werewolf, Peter was in no way ready for what he saw with the door open.

The room had blood-stained white walls and a drain on the floor to ease the cleaning of the room that was clearly not happening. In the center of the room was a creature with its lower body that of a large goat but just below the navel and up a grey-skinned woman with bright yellow hair and two horns.

Her inhumanness was not the shock. No, that was the deep cut along her abdomen with bits of her intestines seeping out. While, yes, she had two horns like a stag, one was sawed off to being only a few inches long at the same time the other was a four point about as long at Peter’s hand and forearm combined. There were cuts on her face that looked like messed up tic tac toe without nearly so much simplicity. Her hair was all hacked up and blood from the random cuts all over her unclothed body. There were streaks through the blood on her face from her tears.

Unable to stop herself it seemed, Lydia asked, “Why was she tortured? Did she hurt people?”

Rod and the twins looked confused.

Finally, Rod said. “She’s not human.”

Lydia growled, regretting even asking, making Peter show a flash of a sad smile.

As it looked like Rod might take a step forward, the creature stumbled back from them as far as she could. Around her neck was an iron collar attached to iron chains that were anchored to a bolt on the floor. She also growled like the roll of thunder through the trees in power and volume. Her eyes were the yellow of her hair and while filled with tears also seemed full of unbridled rage.

Peter growled back. It wasn’t intentional, but instinct was instinct it seemed. He then moved past Rod. “Step out of the room, everyone.”

Lydia nodded and pulled everyone back that had entered. However, she stepped in with Peter.

Keeping his eyes down and away to help show he wasn’t hunting, Peter crouched down low and moved a bit closer. He let his werewolf features show, including sideburns, claws, fangs, etc. He then took a better look at the situation.

The creature was bleeding far more than he had initially noticed. A lot more than just a bit of her intestines had leaked out, too.

After one deep breath, Peter could smell the rot, the death on her. The creature was dying painfully, not rabid. Since she didn’t growl or in any way react to Peter having moved a bit closer, Peter moved closer still. He began to hum softly, a soothing tune he only partially remembered. The tune had no words, no name.

The creature seemed hesitant about Peter but seemed more willing to give him a chance of sorts as he was clearly neither a hunter nor human.

Letting the Nogitsune come to the surface, Lydia followed Peter’s lead, behaving as he did, seeking to come closer to the creature.

Lydia then softly touched Peter to let the fox pass between them and share what Peter was thinking while they touched:

Not knowing if she spoke English or anything of that nature, Peter understood that he could ask but there was no promise of an answer. He wasn’t sure fully how to do this, ask this without words while not stressing her any more than she already was.

As a result, he kept humming to the creature to sooth. Once he was within touching distance, he hummed a little deeper, seeking to lull her into relaxation. He gently reached out toward her arm to move where it was as she had moved it to cover her wound.
The creature looked to him with a whimper.

Peter gently took her hand and rubbed it kindly, trying to share that everything would be okay without words even though it was likely they both knew she wasn’t going to make it.

Aware of where Peter was likely going next, Lydia and the Nogitsune took his hand to gently move him and prevent his intended next act. Nogitsune on the surface, Lydia opened herself as they touched the creature with yellow hair as they closed their eyes.

The creature’s eyes went wide though neither Lydia nor the Nogitsune could see it. Even though they did not know everything, they sought out what all was wrong in the creature’s body. Having explored what she could to understand the state of things, Lydia hugged the scared creature and stepped back, letting Peter do as he’d originally planned.

Peter crept closer once more. He then leaned forward as though he may hug her close too but suddenly with supernatural speed snapped her neck and sliced her throat in one nearly instant move. She would’ve felt nothing.

Having chosen mercy as the best move, Peter stood and left the room without uttering a single word.

Lydia stayed behind. Kneeling, Lydia took the now dead creature’s hand in her own. With the Nogitsune’s help, Lydia called the Nemeton’s roots that the Nogitsune knew splayed far out well beyond Beacon Hills and even Beacon County to pull the body through the ground to rest. As that was handled with the knowledge the Nogitsune had been sharing with her on the drive here to prepare her, Lydia gently helped the Horned Woman cross over to the other side peacefully so as not to be a lost, wandering spirit like so many here were.

With that work done, Lydia rose to her feet to walk away from the partial cave in of the floor into which the Horned Woman’s body had disappeared as though it had never been there. Out in the hall, Lydia nodded to Peter and Rod to continue forth.

However, less than six feet passed before Lydia stopped dead, saying, “Here.”

Rod looked back with a frown, saying, “I thought you wanted only those still alive?”

Tilting her head, Lydia pointed to the better disguised door ot her left.

Rod sighed but moved to pull back the blanket and pop open the unlocked door.

Peter gave Deuc a look that seemed to say something without words before he stepped in first before Lydia could lead the way, likely to protect his Alpha.

Within the room was mostly blood splattered walls; however, in the far corn, compiled into itself was something indescribable beyond horror. It was a stack of limbs and wings, and organs. It was too much and not enough to be one whole creature, yet whoever or whatever the creature or creatures; it had suffered terribly.

Lydia entered behind Peter only to crouch down by the pile with tears in her eyes. After steeling herself for what had to come next, Lydia asked Peter very quietly: “Can you smell it? Smell a child?”

Perking a brow, against his stomach’s urging, Peter took a deep breath. He appeared to be struggling to parse out scents, but it was visceral when he caught something of interest as he rushed the stack of limbs and body parts, tearing things off the pile until he came to a small, starving child. They looked nearly dead. It was a wonder they were taking the crushingly shallow breaths they seemed to be struggling to take.

Tears still running down her cheeks, Lydia said softly as she listened to the child’s mother, whose body parts were covering the child’s body. Carefully, Lydia pulled off the coat she was wearing, thanks to one Jackson Whitmore who’d been wearing it at the hospital. She carefully scooped up the child.

Eyes flashing blue on and off in feral rage, Peter helped her fashion, through tying and tearing, the coat into a sling the child would fit in.

Lydia wore the sling the child was tucked into. At the same time, Lydia reached out to grip Peter’s arm both to comfort him and to pass along that they would save the child and things would be okay.

As they emerged from the room, Rod looked stunned. “I had no idea…”

Snapping some, she said, “Can it. We don’t have time for half-ass excuses.”

The group continued through the hallway.

At the next door, Rod pulled the blanket off the door to reveal a door that required a key code to unlock.

Lydia looked at the door and thought a moment before looking to a ghost no one could see. Reaching out and gripping a passing hunter’s ghost, scaring the man by her mere ability to touch him. Staring him the looking to the door, Lydia waited only a moment before he confessed the code.

Letting the ghost go, but not letting him pass on at this time, Lydia typed in the code for the door, triggering it to open.

Upon Lydia opening the door, they could see shelves and papers littering the room with a series of desks. On the shelves were some books and while there were some papers on the ground, there were more on the desks. There were also hunter’s trophies on the walls, including but not limited to teeth, tails, and heads of dead creatures.

There were also tons of weapons and crates of more in the room. The smell of the poisoned ammunition was strong, but bearable.

Lydia then said, “Peter, I need you to distort the ones that look obviously supernatural. Please leave no fingerprints though.”

Lydia worked to not pay too much attention to the trophies beyond what was needed for it to be sterilized for the cops to come through. They were on a bit of a time limit with the Deputies. Also, she didn’t want to risk seeing someone she knew and become paralyzed with sadness.

At the same time as he was defacing some of the trophies, Peter turned to Rod, “We need bags with straps. We can’t take everything, but we are going to try to take a lot. Deucalion? Start grabbing bound books, journals of use and take photographs with your phone of any seemingly relevant loose pages. Keep it tight and quick.”

Rod and one of the twins rushed to presumably get what Peter had ordered them to.

Lydia looked around a bit more, finding maps and journals. She signaled Cora over—“We need all of these. They recount interactions, politics, and even where some of their bases are. We’re not leaving paperwork, maps, or books behind. We will leave weapons and no fingerprints.”

Aiden moved to help Peter with the trophies despite clearly seeing Kali and Ennis’ heads up there before moving to start stacking books they’d be taking.

Even as he felt himself shifting mentally toward more of a survival mode to grab what they could while ignoring his own actions so far, Peter looked back to see Duke standing, human and naked looking at the trophy wall with hard, angry eyes. Peter then looked to the wall to see Kali and Ennis’ heads on the wall.

Gerard must have come for them in the woods after the packs had left to seek aid.

While disgusting, Peter knew they didn’t have time. “Deuc, get your fur on. We don’t have time for this!”

Lydia moved to Deuc, touching his shoulder softly before looking him in the eyes with determination as she stated steadily: “Gerard will pay.”

Even as he spoke, Peter was already going through bits of paper on the desks to stack up semi-neatly as Lydia wanted them to keep it all and in search of bound books and journals, aware they could be of more use in the long term. After he had a stack of papers and a few journals he’d found, Peter looked toward the door in time to see Rod and the twin jump in.

The young hunters had begun offering bags to each of them while keeping a bag each.

Peter took the one he was given and began stuffing it quickly as best he could with books, journals, and papers, while speaking, “How many rooms do we have left with living prisoners in them?”

The hunter in a brown jacket said to his twin, “Sam, do you know?”

Sam, the young hunter in the red coat responded while stuffing his bag with journals as fast as he could. “Three more rooms… not sure how many in each though. Some had more than one. At least one baby.”

As Peter spoke with the others, Lydia, Aiden, and Cora stuffed all the papers, books, photographs, and maps they found into the bags the young hunters had brought.

Lydia refused to leave neither resource nor incriminating/exposing documents behind.

Nodding to the young hunter, Peter said, “Deuc, Rod—leave your bags empty. We’ll save them for any surprises. We all need to leave this room and get moving. We’ve grabbed what we want.”

Lydia at the last second spotted and grabbed three more small journals that looked like they could belong to a young girl that had been wedged in between the desk and a filing cabinet as though to hide them. Just as she left the room, she grabbed one more as he left the room that looked very similar to one another that had been stuffed in a nook. Sure, they’d gotten everything, Lydia and the others left the room, leaving the door open after wiping fingerprints off the lock.

Once in the hall, she stuffed them into her partially full rucksack then secured the attached strap over her shoulder to her body without harming the child in a sling she carried.
Duke was back in fur and on three legs after throwing his empty bag to Peter.

Rod followed as did Sam and Grit. None of them in a rush to disobey it seemed.

Peter brought up the rear as he caught the bag thrown to him. He carried the bag as they moved forward more as a cluster down the hallway rather than in the more strategic system they’d started with.

Lydia kept listening to them moving as well as to the ghosts milling around the halls. They were how she’d found the child, even known about the child. She listened and watched, not wanting to miss anyone they could save or any evidence they needed to address to protect the supernatural. She trusted Peter to lead while she was watching other things he could not see, sense.

Another ten feet down, Rod ripped the blanket off another wall only for there to suddenly be the sound of panicked scratchy on the other side of the door.

Wasting no time with a lock, Lydia moved ahead of everyone on instinct and the Nogitsune inside yelling at her to do so. “Peter, rip this door off!”

Following the order without hesitation, Peter ripped the door off its hinges in time for a small, red all over fox kit burst through the suddenly open door in sheer unadulterated terror.

Peter stood stock still in shock.

At the same time, Lydia nearly instantly dropped to her knees as both of her eyes went black with blown wide pupils as the Nogitsune came to the surface. It immediately chittered softly with Lydia’s unpracticed mouth. In response, the kit immediately rushed into Lydia’s open arms, likely seeking refuge.

In response, Lydia scooped up the kit. She chittered further to the kit as she placed it in Deuc’s open hands.

At the same time, Peter ripped off his own shirt and quickly fashioned it into a rudimentary sling fit over his body. He then accepted the fox kit back and snuggled it securely into the sling where it quieted and was cuddling into the safe heat of Peter’s body.

Lydia looked so sad the whole time while not taking her eyes off the kit until it was out of sight in the sling. She was ready the burn the world to nothing. Even though they both knew that the Nogitsune wanted to be with the kit, Lydia and the Nogitsune followed the mission first.

Chapter Text

The whole experience was harrowing for them all it seemed even as the young hunters seemed to only grow more confused but did not rebel or ask questions.

As there were only stains on the walls but no other prisoners or really anything else in the room the kit emerged from, they all moved on.

Not five feet later, Sam tugged off a blanket from in front of a door.

Looking around again at the ghost milling about invisible to the others and grabbed one that looked like he may know the code the door revealed required. Once she had the code, she put it in to unlock the door.

While Lydia dealt with the key code mechanism, Peter took off the stuffed rucksack he wore and strapped it onto Deuc.

Once Lydia had unlocked and opened the door, Peter looked in with a nearly feral growl that caused all the young hunters to take a few uncertain steps back.

Within the room, there was too much blood with an overwhelming scent of death to really face, but at the same time, one could not look away. Spiraled much like a snake with its long body and crumpled wings was a massive white dragon with petite horns and its face blown right off likely by a shotgun’s buckshot.

However, what she was wound around was not all dead. There was a smaller, roughly five foot long, but adult white and blue dragon that rose onto its hind legs. “Wolf?”

Deuc howled in response.

The dragon dropped onto all four and got to work. One by one he carried out hatchlings by their scruff like a cat may their kittens. Each hatchling had notable damage to the bottoms of their feet. The adult creature brought out hatchling after hatchling until in the end it totaled out to nine. There were others, but they did not move. The dragon brought the litter to Deuc. “They are hurt and starving.”

Peter got a hold of himself. He produced the empty rucksack, opening it for the dragon to put the hatchlings in. “Are your feet injured too?”

The dragon nodded but also quickly got all the hatchling into the bag without complaint. Seemed he was a father first and wounded second.

Lydia quietly stepped past the dragons being loaded into the rucksack to step into the bloodied room. While the Nogitsune feasted quietly, Lydia gently helped the mother and the hatchlings that didn’t make it crossover. The Banshee wished them well on the other side.

Returning to the others, Lydia asked the young hunters, “Do you know where the other prisoners are?”

Rod and Sam nodded while Grit shook his head.

Lydia looked at her phone to check time. Aware they couldn’t take all the time in the world, Lydia said, “Deuc and Cora take Rod and grab some of the other books and papers from the other room as fast as you can, leaving no fingerprints or evidence of the supernatural. We need to get out of here with time to spare for dealing with Chris on the way out.”

Deuc and Cora both nodded and took the mentioned young hunter with them. Deuc clasped Peter’s arm without words.

Peter nodded to the Demon Wolf. No. He nodded to Deucalion. He then told Sam and Grit, “I need a jacket and shirt.”

The young hunters frowned but did as bid. Grit gave his jacket and shirt, leaving only a bullet proof jacket. Sam gave his jacket.

Taking the clothing items, Peter quickly used them to help secure the hatchlings in the bag before putting it on and strapping it tightly to him. He partially closed the bag so that the little dragons would not fall out but could still easily breathe.

When Peter stood fully, the adult dragon spread his impressive wingspan that was double the length of its body to fly up to land on and curl around Peter’s shoulders and upper body. The dragon was heavy, but still doable for Peter in terms of carrying the weight.

Sam kept moving forward and pulled down another blanket.

Grit stayed tight with his brother.

Peter ripped the door off its hinges and tossed it aside. He peeked in to see a poor starved to death werewolf. The werewolf was very, very old.

Lydia slipped into the room while Peter was reacting to help the spirit of the poor wolf pass on peacefully. She then left the cell.

Peter grunted and they moved on. “Thought you said there was another live one?”

Sam shrugged. “Didn’t know if he was dead or not. Figured we’d check after what y’all found in that one room. Next one is the last one that may still be alive.”

Lydia could see Peter was tense and really wanted to rip the young hunters a new one, but that would have to wait. They needed to be timely. Lydia checked time again, then said. “We’ve got to speed up! The officers are likely already trying to be on their way. Run!”

As the youths ran, Peter was on their tail, yelling, “Deuc, backtrack your way out of here! I’ll meet you on the outside!”
Deuc grunted, but he did as told.

Peter and Sam skid to a stop as the young hunter tore a blanket off a door.

Without hesitation, Peter ripped off the door. Looking inside, the man saw a very frail and starved thin werewolf. She was crouched on the ground and bleeding.

Peter lifted his head and howled loudly, reverberating the walls.

The werewolf woman struggled to stand in response, looking like she was growling weakly back but no sound escaped.

Then, Lydia grabbed Peter by the arm, pulling him out of the doorway just as hunters came out from behind the frail wolf shooting.

It seemed the ghost had not captured them all to kill after all.

As he was pulled from the doorway, Peter grabbed and brought the young hunters along with him. Peter began quickly shedding the innocents he carried including the adult dragon.

As Peter was working to shed innocents, Grit and Sam hollered: “We’re hunters!”

Lydia tried to grab Grit to stop him from entering the doorway but was too late.

The shots paused, and Grit stepped into the doorway. “We’re not here to—”

Before the young hunter could finish, he took a shot to the throat causing him to instantly crumble to the ground with blood gushing out.

Having heard the gunshots, seconds later, Deuc was back to them. He clearly had not really made it too far since they parted ways.

Peter finally had off all but the fox kit and quickly yanked Grit’s gurgling-in-blood form out of the doorway with Lydia’s help. He looked at Deuc. “Can you do this?”

Deuc gave a curt nod, dropping all he had been carrying. He released a wall shaking howl, then charged into the room. While growls, claws, and bullets flew, Peter checked the bleeding youth. He then looked at his sheet-white twin. “He’s hurt too bad. Only chance I have that might save his is to turn him.”

Sam nodded yes without hesitation.

Peter growled.

Lydia demanded: “Say it out loud!”

Sam whimpered. “Save him, please… save him or kill me…”

Lydia nodded to Peter for him to do it.

Peter then lifted the dying teen to give him the bite on his forearm. After motioning for Sam to provide his shirt, Peter quickly pressed the shirt to the wound. Peter then guided Sam to hold the shirt as he shed the kit and lunged into the bullets and fought with Deuc.

Lydia kept the children, Dragon, and the twins as safe as she could listening for trouble and paying attention to all the ghosts in the area.

It took several precious minutes, but quickly, Peter and Deuc had killed all the hunters in the cell. No others came.

Keeping herself positioned to have an eye line into the cell but also a clear view through the hall, Lydia watched as Peter ripped off his remaining clothes as he shifted into his werewolf form, and like Deuc, began literally ripping people apart. There was no time for pseudo-choreographed moves. He just raked his claws through hunter after hunter with Deuc until there were no more.
With all the werewolves covered in the blood of hunters, Peter then motioned to the werewolf woman’s chains.

Lydia made a mental note to start investing in werewolf friendly clears for everyone’s houses while watching the ghosts.

The Demon Wolf growled lowly before ripping the chains loose from the ground. He then scooped the woman up off her feet before he moved out of the room.

Peter followed.

Both werewolves pulled on all they had been carrying before attacking the hunters.

While the wolves were gearing back up, Lydia stepped into the cell and life before with the Nogitsune’s help, called on the Nemeton to clean up the bodies, but in this case to feed on their bodies and souls.

With all his gear on, Peter pointed with his chin for Deuc to take the rucksacks and the woman he was carrying out with the run unspoken but implicit.

With the bodies addressed, Lydia left the cell.

Peter grabbed Sam, “Is that the last of them?!”

Sam nodded, clearly afraid.

Lydia interrupted, “Is there any other evidence of the supernatural?”

Nodding again, Sam pointed down the hall.

Peter asked, “Can you carry your brother?”

Sam nodded again, then picked up his brother, carrying him while keeping pressure on his wound with the t-shirt.

Lydia then said, “Take me to the last of the evidence of the supernatural down this hall. Peter, Deuc, meet with the others! I’ll be right behind you shortly, promise!”

Peter couldn’t help himself but whine from deep in his wolf. He didn’t want to leave anyone behind.

Giving him a stern look, Lydia refrained from flashing her eyes or giving an Alpha order. She simply moved forward, cupping the sides of Peter’s face before whispering, “It’s okay. I’m going to get out too. I must make sure our loose ends are tied up. I’ll right behind you.”

Nodding Peter pushed Sam forward to go with Lydia while carrying his brother—“Run! We need to get out of here!”

With a faint smile, Lydia nodded to Peter who took off the other direction.

Lydia motioned further down the hall and got moving with Sam. They were on a tight timeline that only grew tighter the longer they were here.

Sam led them past two more disguised doors before pulling the blanket off another, saying, “They said he was being saved for later. I think he’s dead, but even if he is, it’s proof of the supernatural.”

Lydia nodded, approaching the door. She was grateful it was another coded door. With the help of ghosts around her, Lydia put in the code to open the door and find something she didn’t quite have the words for:

An older man, frail and cut into all over. He had one leg shifted like a werewolf and an arm that was a wing. Possibly a bat or dragon wing? He had bloody tear tracks from his closed eyes.

Unable to help herself, Lydia entered the cell and knelt beside the creature.

Scarring the shit out of her, the creature’s eye opened and he grabbed her arm with his non-winged’ hand, begging her, “Please kill me! Their experiments… what they did… it hurts! Please, put me out of my misery! Please!”

Tears running down her face again, Lydia nodded. She gently removed his hand from her and stepped back from him a bit. With her eyes streaming tears but closed, Lydia let loose a Banshee scream of sadness and mourning to end the poor creature’s misery and erase the evidence of its existence.

That done, she left the room, asking Sam, “Anything or anyone else left?”

Sam shook his head rapidly, clearly terrified of her now.

Lydia nodded, then motioned back toward the entrance to this hellhole of torture. “Then run—we need to get out of here.”

They ran like hell to come up upon Peter and Deuc with those they’d saved at the elevator, but no Cora or Rod.

Frowning, Lydia looked at Peter—“Can you hear them coming?”

Peter frowned. “I only hear one person, and they’re running with a limp.”

Just as Peter spoke, Cora came into sight, carrying her and Rod’s rucksacks along with a semi-automatic rifle in her hand.

As she got closer, no one got a chance to ask questions, as Cora announced, “Rod turned on me. He thought he could take me.”

Peter growled, looking to the twins, wanting to crowd into them, but Lydia stopped him.

Lydia said, “We don’t have time for this. We’ll deal with them later.”

That said, they all loaded up into the elevator the creaked and crawled its way up the shaft before opening up to let them all back out on the surface.

Thankfully the door opened soon. Peter, as he stood toward the front, rushed right out of the elevator, pulling Sam along with him while still carrying the babies and the dragon on his shoulders. He seemed like his legs wanted to give out, but he did not dare give them a chance as he pushed himself further pulling Sam to get past the skewered hunters.

Behind him, Cora and Deuc had rushed out as well.

Lydia ran but stopped by Chris who stood, watching the entrance and those dead and burning while still possessed. “Will you let him free? We can work to save him, and I will help you pass on.”

Chris nodded his head before he crumbled as the ghost left him.

Lydia cried out for Deuc to come over as she helped the ghost cross over to the other side.

Once Deuc was at her side, Lydia ordered, “Turn him. Of the Alphas here, you’re the strongest—make him live.”

Deucalion nodded, taking Chris’ wrist and bit deep enough to hit bone with his turning bite.

While Chris was being bitten, Lydia noticed that Chris had a scabbard with a long sword in it. With no time to ask questions, Lydia left it alone.

Instead, Lydia lifted the frail wolf woman Deuc’d had to set down to carry her so that Deuc could carry Chris. They needed to get out of here so the cops could come in and investigate.

Then, they all ran for Derek’s SUV.

Once they were to the vehicle, they quickly loaded the back with all the rucksacks or books and papers. Next were those rescued and then the two hunters. After that, Lydia got in the driver’s seat and turned the keys to start up the SUV.

Peter took shot gun, still wearing the fox kit in a sling just as Lydia still wore the child in a sling. Before pulling out, Lydia offered her open hands to Peter to receive the fox kit and the sling it was in so that Peter could treat himself from the bullets he’d taken.

With the fox kit’s sling on her now too, Lydia pulled the SUV back onto the road to speed back to Beacon Hills. She looked around in the vehicle too and noticed that Derek had left the holder and cords to hook his phone to the vehicle. With a smile, Lydia was one-handedly able to hook up her phone. She was grateful again to have the same phone as Derek, just prettier. What wasn’t improved with robin’s egg blue like her phone case? Nothing. Nothing was Lydia’s answer.

Setting herself and her phoen up for hands free one-handed, Lydia said, “Siri, call Erica Reyes.”

Siri responded, “Calling Erica Reyes.”

At the same time, Lydia could see out of the corner of her eye that the middle seat was down so that the back seat area was a cuddle pile of first aid and keeping people warm.

In the front, Peter was digging bullets out of himself and burning out the Mountain Ashe himself.

When the call was answered, Boyd said, “Erica’s phone, who is this?”

Lydia rolled her eyes like her favorite Alpha, Stiles, before saying, “The scene is clear for Erica to lead them there.”

Although she could hear movement on the other side of the phone, it took a minute for any words. Boyd then said, “Okay, will do. Did everyone make it out?”

“Yes, and then some. We also got Chris too.”

“Good.”

Boyd then ended the call.

Lydia sighed. “This pack is so rude sometimes.”

----

While Lydia was calling and dealing with Boyd, Peter texted Mel while patching himself up:

Mel, we need you to get as much aloe and or aloe plants as you can. The less chemicals the better. Also, will need bandaging, especially extra thick gauze when we get back

Then, he looked to the adult dragon to gage his state and then looked to the hatchlings.

Before Peter could continue to text or ask about how he felt, the adult dragon spoke. “Where are we going?”

“Someplace safe. We’re taking you somewhere safe while we all figure out the next steps.”
The dragon groaned. “What can I do?”

Peter could not help but show a quick flash of sympathy. “You could give a status update on yourself and the hatchlings. I’m texting ahead with a medical professional who will be meeting with us.”

“The wyrmling have hurt, burned feet, as do I. Most else has healed on its own. But we are all hungry. They were starving us to try and force us to eat the already dead. Then each other while still alive.”

Nodding, Peter checked his phone to see that Mel had already replied:

How much? How bad?

Lydia then piped up with, “Care to share with the class?”

After taking a deep breath, Peter responded, “I’m texting Mel for supplies to treat the dragons, kit, and the child.”

The red head nodded and seemingly returned her attention to driving.

Peter then texted Mel back:

Nine hatchlings and a small adult to start with the aloe. Have a fox kit too but I’ve not been able to check them thoroughly. Also have a small child, that we’ve not been able to access yet either.

Peter then looked to Deuc and the female werewolf who was still wolfed out. Seeing that the wolf woman was pulling bullets out of Deuc, Peter then texted Boyd:

I’ll need clothes for a girl about Erica’s size. She’s deathly skinny currently.

He then checked for if he had other texts to find that he did. He had a text from Derek:

Where are you? Stiles will want an eta on how far out you guys are

While he would normally be smiling to himself and giving his nephew some snark, Peter didn’t feel it in terms of timing or wit. He had other things to worry about. He did however still respond in a way:

How’s Stiles?

Seeing Stiles’ state in the hospital had been harrowing to say the least. He needed confirmation that the boy who ran with wolves was okay. It’d killed Peter to leave Stiles’ side, but Lydia’d had a point. He just hoped he wouldn’t come to regret going with Lydia.

Peter forced himself back onto task. Before checking for replies to his texts again, Peter looked at Lydia while saying, “Slow a hint. We’re coming up on a police speed trap.”

Even knowing it was likely just a checkpoint to catch drunk kids, Peter knew better than to take anything too lightly. Hunters paid off police just like the mob and others. No one was without a price in this world or any other.

With all of that in mind, he added, “Everyone down. We don’t want to be seen.”

That said, Peter quickly scooted around some of the rucksacks to partially to fully cover the dragon and hatchlings while staying low himself in the passenger seat so it would look like Lydia was driving with no passengers. He looked to Deuc, about to speak when he saw Deuc had covered himself and the girl with some of the bags to expose neither wolves nor nudity as both forms could be problematic with the cops should they notice while also keeping the young hunters down to not be seen so no signals could be passed along covertly.

With a sigh, Lydia slowed some, clearly not wanting to.

As they were passing the speed trap, multiple Sheriff and county Deputy vehicles sped past with their lights and sirens on.

Lydia pulled over for them as was expected, saying once they’d passed, “I hope they’d ready for what they’re about to find.”

Peter then checked his texts again to find one from Mel:

Where do I need to have this stuff?

Peter growled silently at himself. He didn’t know the answer to that. Rubbing his face with a hand to get himself on task, he asked Lydia, “Where’re we wanting to take everyone and everything?”

Lydia didn’t even pause. “We’re going to my house. It’s part of why I made sure my Mom was in on things. My house is bigger than the Stilinski’s, and not considered involved in the supernatural at all. Makes it a safe homebase for the time being, especially with other places being hit by hunters.”

As he listened, Peter looked at Boyd’s response to him:

How much clothing are you talking about? Does it need to accommodate for bandaging?

With a faint smile of pride, Peter responded:

Room for bandaging possibly and layers for warmth.

The wolf then checked for other text responses.

Derek had texted back:

Stiles is alive. He’s scared when awake, but currently sleeping. They’re giving him the good drugs due to pain.

Peter shared the update with Lydia, who looked both relieved and concerned. He then texted Derek:

We’ve passed the speed trap on the way

Even knowing that there was still a lot to be done, Peter still felt so much relief no longer being in Gerard’s hellscape of horror. He only wished they could’ve saved more.

Chapter Text

Back in Gerard’s torture room, when imprisoned…

Lydia knew she was losing it, but she couldn’t seem to stop her mind. It was spiraling. The “white room” torture was surely working on her. As it was, she’d lost complete context of time. Everything was too fast and too slow.

Once again, she tried counting by hundreds—100, 200, 300, 400… 1600, 1700, 1800…

Somewhere around 230,000, Lydia felt her mind go to fuzz before she slipped into images she took as hallucinations:

A dead body with her throat clawed out was scratching at the soil around her as she appeared to gain consciousness. The woman fought hard until she was pulling herself out of her not so shallow grave and up into the preserve.

Having no idea how she saw all the underground parts and the woman climbing out of her seeming grave, Lydia at least recognized the local preserve around the woman. Then Lydia got a better look at the woman. A blonde woman. In her thirties? Lean muscles in torn clothes, blood on her throat though whatever wound may have been there was gone.

The woman then shifted to a half form with a feline face rather than a wolf one. She had what looked like large cat fangs dropped and claws out before she took off in a run to possibly escape the area.

Then, what Lydia was seeing shifted back to being at the Nemeton’s clearing in the preserve. She watched as Alan Deaton worked to cut down the massive tree. He seemed angry, but it wasn’t clear why. He was mumbling to himself, but she couldn’t parse out the words.

Marin Morrell was there too—the school counselor. She was standing several feet away with crossed arms. She then said, “You know they’re going to know it was you, right?”

Deaton didn’t even look back; instead, he just said, “It won’t matter, sister. Gerard and Kate are going to kill them all. I can’t allow Gerard to have this power too. While my plans have not worked thus far, I know that my intentions are right. He just wants desolation and power.”

Marin asked, “And what do you want that’s so much better?”

-------------------------------------------------------

In the SUV driving…

While Lydia was driving and dealing with Boyd on the phone, Peter was texting.

Cora couldn’t help but feel like she was floundering. She’d just gotten some of her family back, but they were all under threat constantly already… maybe still. She’d thought running up here to see about the new Hale Alpha was the best thing to do, but right now? She felt pretty useless, like any other wolf could take her place and it would make no difference.

As it was, Cora’d been considering accepting Stiles as her Alpha, but now? He wasn’t even Alpha anymore. She couldn’t blame him though. Human or not, Gerard wasn’t gentle, wasn’t even worthy of being called anything but a monster. That Stiles survived at all said far more about him than his being human or not.

Even Stiles giving up his Alpha spark was understandable, Cora suspected. She can see how if he viewed it right, as the honor and responsibility it was, he’d make a choice for the group rather than the possible false sense of security from added power.

From all she’d learned so far, that power only meant so much. Look at Deucalion? He was the Demon wolf, the Alpha of Alphas… and Gerard still destroyed him physically. Mentally? Who was to say? Some claimed he was mad already.

The adult dragon spoke. “Where are we going?”

Peter responded: “Someplace safe. We’re taking you somewhere safe while we all figure out the next steps.”

Cora sincerely doubted anywhere in or near Beacon Hills could ever be considered safe. Look at all it took from them! This was Hale territory! They were such a strong pack, but where were they now? The ancestral Hale Alpha spark chose a human rather than any actual Hales. How far they had fallen was only ground in more and more the longer she was there, the longer the remaining Hales dared to exist seemed to be just endless pain, loss, and misery.

Add on that they had hunters in the vehicle with them? Yeah, not exactly a deck of safety.

The dragon groaned. “What can I do?”

Peter said, “You could give a status update on yourself and the hatchlings. I’m texting ahead with a medical professional who will be meeting with us.”

“The wyrmling have hurt, burned feet, as do I. Most else has healed on its own. But we are all hungry. They were starving us to try and force us to eat the already dead. Then each other while still alive.”

Nodding, Peter checked his phone.

Cora got to prying bullets from her body and burning out Wolf’s Bane as she could. It was not going to be a fast job, especially with how quickly Lydia was driving. At the same time, she wondered what was going to happen with the hunter twins who were here. The wounded would be treated, obviously, but the hunters? Chris Argent being treated made sense, btu the other two? She wasn’t so sure about that.

Lydia then piped up with, “Care to share with the class?”

After taking a deep breath, Peter responded, “I’m texting Mel for supplies to treat the dragons, kit, and the child.”

The red head nodded and seemingly returned her attention to driving.

Peter then texted more.

Cora watched her uncle, and not for the first or probably the last time understood the madness he’d suffered. Wouldn’t she have done the same? She was never meant to be an Alpha either. She was just meant to be a beta, a support possibly to her sister or to marry into another pack perhaps. If she had gotten the Hale spark herself, who was ot say what damage she would’ve cased?

Not even knowing who to aim her rage and fear and just so much pain at, Cora knew she’d have been a vicious monster that hunters would use as a story to justify the death of all wolves. That would be no good. At least her uncle managed to kill those responsible, or at least as many of them as he could before Derek and the others killed him.

Plucking more bullets from herself, Cora remembered her uncle once telling her to do such a thing quietly as one never knew if there were more villains around the corner that might hear. Over the years, especially believing he was long gone, Cora had taken his words to heart, even when sparing with others in the pack that had accepted her down in South America. She was brutal, thanks to her uncle’s guidance before the fire. Sometimes she had wondered if he’d been subtly teaching her to be a Left Hand. However, he died before she could ask.

Now? Did any of it matter anymore? Any of the things that might have been were gone now when it came to the Hale pack. There simply were not enough of them left.

Peter then looked to Deuc and the female werewolf before texting even more.

Really looking at her uncle’s features, Cora felt like she could see the barely visible, nearly invisible signs of aging, of the exhaustion that surely came from resurrecting oneself, from fighting so hard yet receiving so little for so long.

Cora knew her mother had not always been kind to her uncle Peter. It was an open secret that she struggled to trust him even when she should’ve. Yes, he was cutthroat, but isn’t that what Left Hands are supposed to be like? Of the few she’d ever met, Peter’d always seemed among the more caring yet also lonelier. It wasn’t that the others were necessarily more cuddled or anything, but Peter seemed to long for a more loving, more included life.

Peter looked at Lydia while saying, “Slow a hint. We’re coming up on a police speed trap.”

Next, he added, “Everyone down. We don’t want to be seen.”

That said, Peter quickly scooted around some of the rucksacks for partial to full coverage of the dragon and hatchlings while staying low himself in the passenger seat so it would look like Lydia was driving with no passengers. He looked to Deuc to check he was doing so too.

Cora noted the still tentative responses of her uncle from before the fire. Even as she snuggled down to go unseen, Cora had to ask herself how much of the man she’d known was still there. He’d been so much sadder than anyone else seemed to notice back then. She sometimes wondered if her siblings ever saw the odd, longing glances uncle Peter sometimes had for other men or really for the closeness the rest of them knew and did off hand, taking for granted things their mom didn’t do with her own brother like Cora and her siblings did.

With a sigh, Lydia slowed her driving some.

As they were slowing, multiple police sirens went by.

Lydia pulled over for them some, saying once they’d passed, “I hope they’re ready for what they’re about to find.”

Peter then checked his texts again.

Cora wanted to ask about who he was texting, why was he so focused on that rather than on the vehicle they were in and those here with him. He seemed more distant than before the fire, almost like he didn’t remember the longing for connection. Or maybe he’d given that up since then? It was hard to say.

Peter asked, “Where’re we wanting to take everyone and everything?”

Lydia didn’t even pause. “We’re going to my house. It’s part of why I made sure my Mom was in on things. My house is bigger than the Stilinski’s, and not considered involved in the supernatural at all. Makes it a safe home base for the time being, especially with other places being hit by hunters. She can even be who brings supplies to our house since she, like the house, are unlikely to be being watched too closely at this time.”

Returning his attention to his phone, Peter even smiled some at the phone. Though the smile faded pretty quick as he shared aloud that “Stiles is sleeping but scared when awake. He’s also getting the good drugs, according to Derek.”

As her uncle returned to texting, Cora asked, “Should we order food to Lydia’s house since that’s where we’re going?”

In all reality, Cora wanted to scream and make demands, but this was probably not the time for that. Then again, when would ever be the time for that? Never. The answer was always never.

-----

As they all settled in the Martin livingroom after she’d grabbed what first aid supplies were at the house, Lydia texted Melissa:

Once the supplies are gathered, please send them home with my Mom

That sent, Lydia moved to pull out bedding of all shapes and sizes out of different linen closets in her house to turn the den toward the back of the first floor into a recovery room. She wanted to make sure everyone had a safe, warm place to be. She’d already offered all the white bedding and towels she could find for short term first aid since they could all just be bleached or burned later.

Returning to the den with her fourth load of blankets, Lydia began to tuck and fluff things around those they’d managed to bring back. Not able to stop herself, Lydia coddled and snugged in for warmth the small child that had no visible wounds but undoubtedly had psychological ones to match visible starvation and likely dehydration.

Peter looked at Lydia, asking, “What’s the next step?”

With wet eyes, Lydia spoke slowly, with exacting pronunciation as though it was crucial to her maintaining control of herself: “We are going to settle people here as best we can until my Mom gets here with supplies.’

“Once she’s here, I’m going to text and call some of our other pack members to come here while you and I go to the hospital to check in with Stiles and assess where he’s at on things. I refuse to let them put us all down like animals. I am not going to wait for them to attack just for us to fight to defend ourselves. I plan to bring the fight to them. No more monster of the week, constant survival-mode. We’re going to make the first move and end the war before it gets any further.”

Peter perked a brow as he was helping the adult Dragon unload his hatchlings onto soft pillows. “And how are we going to do that?”

Lydia grinned with too many teeth for the Banshee she was. “We’re going to fully awaken the Nemeton, and so, so much more.”

Before he could ask for further information or really react, Peter heard the delivery person’s vehicle drive up the driveway.

Cora was quick to her feet, despite her still healing wounds. She rushed the door, opening it before the delivery person could fully knock. She accepted the numerous plastic bags full of Chinese food before closing the door in the deliver person’s face without a word.

Peter let out a startled laugh at the sight, saying, “Not even going to thank them?”

Not responding to her uncle, Cora instead spoke as she headed to the kitchen— “I’ll make up plates for everyone. Are the hatchlings meat only or do they eat other stuff too?”

-------------------------------------------------------

Four hours later…

Noah was outside the base, having just lost everything he’d eaten that day to the ground by his cruiser. How the hell could people be doing this even today? Had the world learned nothing?

Although he was grateful Lydia, Peter, and the others had cleared out the signs of the supernatural, it broke Noah’s heart what happened to those whose bodies were here. The violence visited upon them was horrifying. The signs of prisoners being forced to eat their dead cellmates and more just turned his stomach and had forced him out along with several Deputies to throw up.

It reminded Noah of his time in the military, particularly of his seeing refuges and the wounded being airlifted out, as well as the education he’d received about what all had occurred with the Nazis. While he wasn’t old enough to live through World War II, Noah’s Grandfather had. It was one of the realities of being a military family: there were stories of all kinds of human pain.

Thankfully, Noah’s Grandfather had been open about what he’d seen, believing that hate could only be destroyed by the light, learning rather than hiding it away. Noah’s father did not feel the same. He was too damaged, tortured by being a prisoner of war twice over during his time serving during the Vietnam War.

Taking a deep breath, Noah steeled himself to go back down; however, Parrish came rushing up to him, saying, “Hey, they’ve found some live ones!”

Noah put on his Sheriff face, pulling himself fully away from memory lane to the present. “I’ll call in for medical. Gather what evidence you can but get them out of there as best as can be done to scar them the least. I’m sure they’ve been through more than enough!”

Erica and Jackson, who had not been allowed into the base but expected to wait outside with the vehicles, perked up some, as though paying extra attention now.

Noah could not help but worry what that might mean.

-------------------------------------------------------

Lydia sat beside Stiles’ bed in the hospital, holding his hand in hers.

Peter was curled up in the bed beside Stiles, keeping the cooler temperatures at bay as best he could.

Adrian was in Isaac’s bed, cuddled to Isaac to try and help him heal faster. It was something Derek had told him about for helping their pack in the past. Why not use it now? He was here anyways.

Deucalion and the others they’d managed to save were at Lydia’s house along with Derek, Boyd, and the remaining Alpha pack members. Cora had come along with Peter and Lydia to the hospital for whatever reason, but Lydia suspected it was more about making sure the pack was protected.

Lydia had not held back on sharing that they were all in a lot of danger right now, and that she was not only going to avoid being like Scott but also intended to go harder than even Stiles did. She had no intention of going peacefully into the night or waiting for them to be picked off one by one over time.

As it was, the doctors were working on preparing Isaac and Stiles for being moved. Working together, Lydia’s convinced her Mom to help Peter in pulling strings to move both young men to the Martin house for care rather than having them be sitting ducks at the hospital. Both the Hales and Martins had money, and Lydia felt not hesitation in flexing it.

That was part of the point in bringing her mother in on things. It opened up another wallet and more possible influence to get them into a better position to protect themselves as well as honor Stiles’ intentions to protect the town.

Pulled from her thoughts, Lydia looked to Stiles, asking, “What did you say?”

Stiles responded with a weary expression on his face, “What’re you thinking? You’ve got the look like someone spilled something on your new dress or something. It looks like trouble incoming.”

Smiling at how well he knew her, Lydia said, “I’m working on how to do things while you’re on the mend. I don’t want to rush you into taking the Alpha spark back, so I get that I have responsibilities to address.”

Stiles squeezed her hand tightly, whispering so softly she almost didn’t hear: “I’m not taking it back.”

Lydia’s opened wider in shock. “Are you sure? You’re going to get better.”

Stiles sighed. “It’s not about getting better. I just… I’m not leaving the pack or anything, but I just… I can’t do this. I thought I could, but the weight… what Gerard and his goons did to me? I can’t be measured; I can’t be reasonable. I want it all to burn.”

Lydia’s eyes met his. “Me too.”

Stiles smiled weakly. “Yeah, but you won’t lose your life for it. I’d gladly give mine to watch them die as painfully, brutally as possible. ALL of them.”

Although Stiles tried to pull away his hand as though he had to turn away to avoid rejection, Lydia held his hand firmly. “I won’t throw away my life, yours, or anyone else’s to hurt them, but I will take care of the issue. On that topic… I’m going to need your help on that.”

“Need matches, I take it?” Stiles tried to joke.

With a smile, Lydia said, “Something like that… definitely a Spark.”

Stiles frowned. “What are you thinking?”

Lydia spoke softly. “While in sensory deprivation torture, yes I had hallucinations—”

“As expected,” Stiles chimed in.

“Yes, as expected, but I also had visions. I saw things that are coming down the line. I cannot… the Nogitsune is who recognized the parts that are not hallucinations. I am going to get us ahead of things as best I can. But part of doing that requires us to fully awaken the Nemeton. You’re already the Nemeton’s ally.’

“We simply need to strengthen the tree, feed it more. And by that I do not mean killing rampantly, before you interrupt, but a more pointed effort. I know you don’t like the idea of throwing money at a problem, but I want to throw some resources at this as well as bring Danny into the know, among other things.”

Stiles perked a brow. “Are you saying you intend to grow the pack?”

“That and more. I have a few specific people in mind, but I need you out of here before I can move forward on this. I also need the investigation your Dad is doing to be chugging along nicely. I intend to dump resources into that, including a sizeable donation, toward cleaning up this town. You want it better? Challenge accepted. I’m just going to use your way, Peter’s, and mine… plus some Whitmore too.”

Tilting his head, Stiles asked, “Are you sure you’re up to this? They destroyed me. I know you’re putting up a strong front, but you need help too, I’m sure of it.”

Lydia nodded, “So am I. It’s part of why I have Peter on a metaphoric leash to me.”

Peter growled at that.

Lydia flipped her hair, “I did say metaphorically. Somehow, Peter was in none of my hallucinations. His presence means this is real. He and Derek managed to be in none of the things that weren’t real. The Nogitsune has thankfully sorted what was hallucination and what was visions… he may also have unlocked more of what I am. Peter may have triggered my awakening to what I am, but the Nogitsune added metaphoric steroids mixed with some understanding.’

“See, I guess most Banshee’s go nuts after a certain point of suppressing, thinking they’re crazy, never awakening, etc. As a result, most are not taught. Everyone has to pretty much fend for themselves. But the Nogitsune has known some Banshee’s. The Argent’s and Hales knew some too. With the mix, I should be better able to navigate what all I can do in a way that those of my line before were not entirely able but for possibly one, but she needs to be freed before I’ll know for sure on that front.”

Stiles furrowed his brows, “So that is the struggle for you? Not always being sure, knowing you’re awake and not having visions or hallucinations?”

Shrugging, Lydia said, “It’s the biggest one that I can face right now. As it is, I have a strong feeling I’m going to have to poke several pack members where it hurts to help them along the right direction, like Derek.”

Peter huffed before saying sarcastically: “Yeah, I suggest that.”

Lydia sighed. “It’s not optional. Some things are going to come up that are going to hurt him. Better he knows in advance rather than be caught unaware.”

Stiles squeezed Lydia’s hand, saying, “Gerard knew I didn’t have the Nogitsune. It’s part of why things got so bad. He was trying to force me to call the Nogitsune to me. I guess he thought I had the ability to summon, control the Nogitsune.”

Lydia sighed. She hated that any of this was happening, that any of this was anything they had to deal with. Lydia shook her head to express her displeasure at the situation without lashing out. She then paused, seemingly considering something before saying, “Speaking of fair warning, I need to tell you something, Peter. Cora, you should hear this too.”

Stiles took ahold of Peter’s hand with his other one to provide support.

After a deep breath, Lydia began to explain for both Cora and Peter. “As you may not know, Cora, the hunters were able to burn down the Hale house because Kate Argent became a teacher at the high school under a false identity. She took advantage of and abused Derek to learn the information that allowed her plan work.’

“Peter ripped out her throat in his crazed vengeance spree. However, Kate Argent is still alive. She turned—”

Peter growled out: “Fuck, I cut too deep!”

Lydia nodded. “Understandably so, but much more importantly, she didn’t become a wolf. Instead, she became a Werejaguar.”

Growling again, Peter asked, “Has she gathered Berserkers yet?”

“I don’t know, but we will find out. I intend to draw her out with one of her favorite kinds of bait.”

Peter stared Lydia down. “We’re not using Derek!”

Lydia carefully set a hand on Peter. “I would never. She is his nightmare. I won’t make him deal with her directly or even be bait. No, you’re going to be bait.”

Stiles gripped both Lydia and Peter’s hands tighter, whispering. “I can’t lose him!”

Looking at Stiles with care and sympathy, Lydia said, “I can’t either, but what would be more delicious to her than a vulnerable wolf who tried to kill her, let alone one she’d tried and failed to kill?”

Peter perked a brow. “How’re we going to convince her I am a vulnerable wolf without getting me killed?”

Chapter Text

When captured in Gerard’s base…

Lydia felt so lost. She’d lost track of habits to keep her mind straight. At the same time, she found herself again in the clearing within the preserve where the Nemeton resided. This time, the Nemeton was a stump as she’d known it to be since all of the supernatural was revealed to her.

Looking down, Lydia saw that she was barefoot upon the ground of the clearing and was not wearing anything she knew herself to own at this time. She was in a flowing white dress that was long sleeved and went to her ankles. The bodice fit perfectly and from the waist the dress rippled in a rush of wind Lydia could see but not feel. She looked at her hands to see that they looked different, as though dipped in black paint up to the second knuckles of all her fingers. It was a strangely out of body situation even though she was still experiencing things from the perspective of her body,

However, Lydia wasn’t alone. All around her, animals were standing on their hind legs and dancing around the Nemeton. It was like a painting in motion. They all seemed syncopated in their movements yet also seemed calm, at ease like this was natural. All the time, Lydia could hear the most eerily sweet wordless singing through the clearing. Neither animals nor anything else bumped her as she stood out like a sore thumb in the clearing.

Upon the Nemeton stump sat the woman in 1500s clothing on a what appeared to be a throne made of drift wood. To one side of her stood Levander, a shimmery leash attached from around his neck to the arm of the throne. On the other side of the woman in 1500s women’s nobility garb was Isaac. He was hovering above the Nemeton just slightly, cross-legged with his eyes closed.

In a blink, suddenly, Lydia was alone there in the clearing. The Nemeton was just a stump, but no one sat upon it. Lydia moved closer to touch the Nemeton. When she touched the stump she felt a flash of pain, sadness, and could hear screams along with the sounds of a crackling fire.

Lydia quickly pulled her hand away, not wanting to touch anymore. The pain and more stopped when the connection was broken, but Lydia was concerned that touching meant something; meant something far more than she currently knew.

------------------------------------------------

The Martin residence…

After everyone was settled into the livingroom, including Isaac and Stiles who were in medical beds with wheels, Lydia spoke softly, “Thank you, again, Peter for being able to get ahold of on short notice the ambulance-style transport of both Isaac and Stiles to get here. There are a few things for all of us to discuss. I know Noah—I mean, Sheriff Stilinski and those with him are not here, but I wanted to update those I could.’

“As a pack, we’re facing an uphill battle. While imprisoned, in addition to hallucinations brought on from the sensory deprivation torture I endured, I had visions. I don’t know everything, but I am aware of some of the things coming our way. We have a lot of work to do in facing the things I know about as well as solidifying the Hale claim in the territory and clearing the area of threats.’

“To do all of this, there’re going to be some changes, including but not limited to adding people to the pack, maintaining no one going anywhere alone, which will have additional things added, and getting everyone here in tip top shape as Stiles had already started before the Alpha pack came into the picture.”

Before Lydia could continue, Derek said, “What do you mean by growing the pack? We’re bigger than we’ve been since the—"

Lydia finished for him, “Yes, since the Hale fire, but it’s not enough.”

Derek then added, “I’m not biting anyone.”

With sad eyes, Lydia said, “I never said we were biting anyone. There are other supernatural individuals in the area as well as at least two to three more humans I’d like to add to the pack.”

“Who?” Aiden asked.

Lydia smiled weakly, “Danny, for one. I’d also like to bring in one or both of Jackson’s parents. Additionally, I would like to bring the Nemeton more fully into the pack.”

“What?” Chris grumbled, sleepily walking into the livingroom from the bedroom Peter and the others had set him up in to rest as he went through the change.

Looking at Chris, Lydia said, “Welcome to an update. Feel free to have a seat. Yes, I want to fully wake and empower the Nemeton. I think, with help, we could cause her to grow back the rest of the tree that Deaton cut down.’

“Also, Deaton is not to be informed or let in on this. Consider him officially not pack. I’ve cut the ties already.”

Peter frowned. “Warning him?”

Lydia smiled with too many teeth. “Tempting him. Based on my visions, he probably won’t take it as a warning. He’ll take it like an attack. He’s probably working with Theo at this rate since he’s worked with Gerard before as well as helped him catch Stiles, myself, and the others. Deaton also knew about the fire before it happened. It caused him to feel brazen to cut down the Nemeton to prevent Gerard from gaining the power there.”

Derek visibly shivered at the thought.

Lydia continued. “Also, I want to antagonize him into making a move before Kate gets here.”

“Kate?” Derek said all too small. “Peter killed her.”

Peter spoke before Lydia could, “I cut too deep in my haste to end her. She turned.”

Lydia nodded, continuing, “She turned to a Jaguar. If she doesn’t already have Berserkers, she is likely gathering them. I want to push Deaton to make a move before she’s heading our way outright.’

“It’s also part of why I want us to wake up and heal the Nemeton. It is powerful even wounded, but it at fuller strength? Deaton won’t be able to help himself. He’ll want the power. He may even see it as a way to have magic again. I don’t think he’s happy being a wolf, and he clearly fights whatever wolf instincts he has. Even makes me wonder if his enforced madness of how he was turned originally ever healed. I suspect he is at least, in part, feral.”

Frowning at that, Peter said, “Then why not put him down now?”

Lydia shrugged, “Too many wounded, including the Nemeton. I want us to be in a better position before ripping the head off that snake, but we are on limited time to get ahead of some of this.”

“How much are we looking at?” Peter asked.

Lydia closed her eyes for a moment before opening them and saying with one eye black, “We have someone to break out of Echo house, Kate, Deaton, Gerard, and more. There’s also fey and getting Isaac back—to start.”

Derek frowned, looking to Isaac on his bed and then back to Lydia, “What do you mean getting Isaac back?!”

Lydia answered, “It’s why he’s not waking up despite healing. Isaac’s body is here and whole but hollow. Isaac’s somewhere else, and we’re going to get him back.’

“Additionally, I am going to go through the materials we recovered from Gerard’s base. I will not being doing so alone. It’s a full pack job. I know not everyone is experienced with quite what I am going to be expecting, so I’m going to show everyone how we’re going to be doing this.”

Stiles raised his hand with visible hesitance to draw attention before speaking. “Alpha, I can help teach how to research and take notes. I also have some thoughts on how to fully wake the Nemeton. I’d been researching it a little on the side since we faced the witches in the preserve.”

Lydia smiled, “That would very appreciated. I would also like to bang out a clearer pack hierarchy when everyone is here. We’re getting bigger, and I do not want anyone or anything falling through the cracks. Unfortunately, some of this is going to metaphorically trial by fire.”

At Derek’s unintentional whine, Lydia moved closer to him, taking his hand softly. “I know, but I intend to go scorched earth if that’s what it takes to end our enemies in such a way that they cannot be resurrected or in any other way brought back, influence, or affect things ever again. I want our enemies snuffed out for good.”

Having sat on the arm of the couch, Chris sighed. “Who all counts as those deserving the scorched earth execution?”

------------------------------------------------

Echo House…

Standing at the payphone, a young woman with pale skin and wiry curls of blonde hair talks on the phone. She tells the person on the other end that she really thinks she “should tell them” because “they’re going to want to know the story, the whole story” then she adds “one of them is standing right behind me.”

Theo frowned, looking at the girl as he walked with a possible candidate for Scott’s pack. He couldn’t hear the other end of the call. He then asked the young man beside, “Are the phones here some kind of specialized phone system?”

The young man tilted his head. “No…. that phone doesn’t even work. There’s no phones for patients. Supposedly that stopped being available a couple decades ago. It’s just for looks. That way people on the outside feel like it’s more homey here.”

Chapter Text

When captured in Gerard’s base…

Lydia felt so lost. She’d lost track of habits to keep her mind straight. At the same time, she found herself in a room (maybe a basement?) she’d never been in before. The room smelled like Wolf’s Bane and gunpowder.

There was a man with sort of shaggy dark hair with a mustache, an a-frame tank top, jeans, and combat boots on. He held a shot gun in his hands. His hands a touch shaky, the man shot himself in the head with the shot gun as wolf fangs began to drop in his mouth past his parted lips.

Lydia was shocked, but before she could step forward, touch, or otherwise react, she was someplace else. A morgue?

A man that Lydia didn’t know approached the wall of ‘drawers,’ pulling out to reveal a body. Although in the circumstance, one would assume the body was dead. The man felt the pulse of the dead body.

After shaking his head, the man closed the drawer, putting the body away in a sense, and left the room as though no one had been there at all.

Then, Lydia was in a cemetery. She looked around, unmoored by the location shifting.

It was night, raining.

Standing by a freshly opened, muddy, Lydia could not help but look into the grave hole to see a coffin inside. However, the coffin was broken as though someone had punched or something and broken the coffin from the inside fighting the way out.

Then, there was a loud, reverberating howl, deeper than she’d ever heard, not too far in the distance.

-----------------------------------------

Martin house, the next day…

In just his jeans and a borrowed t-shirt, Chris was not sure what to do with himself it seemed as he sat at the breakfast bar counter in the kitchen watching everything going on around him but not engaging.

Eating a bowl of cereal in his clothes from the day before, Adrian sat beside Chris. Also not really engaging, Adrian kept to himself and was quiet beyond consistent yawning.

Also in his clothes from the day before, Derek was sitting at the small dinner table in the intimate servant dining room attached to the kitchen in the southern colonial style house. He was writing back and forth in a notebook with one of the rescued from Gerard’s base: Alice. They seemed to be getting out paragraphs at a time in total silence between Alice’s removed vocal box and Derek’s reticence toward speech.

Deucalion sat at the table too in just pj pants, but he was not participating in the discussion. Instead, the wolf was nursing an obscenely large coffee with his legs crossed so his free hand could rub his stump softly, possibly against phantom pains from the lost foot.

On his socked feet in the kitchen with Peter hovering around him, Stiles was baking cookies and then some more cookies while cooking up a form of brunch. He still looked like he’d been through hell with his swollen, blackeyes and bruises on his face as well as the rest of him, but maybe if he could keep cooking, keep moving, then things would be okay.

Everyone had been too worn out the night before, especially with waiting for Erica and Jackson to be back alongside confirmation that Noah had enough to continue through legal, human justice. After that, it was all about everyone getting some much needed rest and changed clothing as appropriate.

Wearing a sling with the fox kit within it, Peter seemed tired but wholly focused on helping Stiles and trying to stop him from overdoing it. The task was a tall order as Stiles was hurt but trying to hide at the same time. Peter did manage to get Stiles to finally sit at the breakfast bar by Chris to stir up and whisk things he was working on while Peter did the leg work.

Wearing what of Peter’s clothes he could, Stiles remained seated, mixing things in bowls and focusing visibly on just about anything outside of himself.

Even though he was keeping a close eye on Stiles, Peter managed the taking out and putting in of cookie sheets. Between those, Peter was pouring the knishes’ Stiles was mixing into pans to go into the other set of ovens in the kitchen.

The kitchen was very much a chef and baking kitchen through and through with two sets of double stacked ovens.

Aiden was working on frying up bacon and maple sausages on the six burner cook top while Erica was handling making large batches of tea, coffee, and even some Koolaid.

The dragons were still sleeping in a guest room as was Jackson and the hunter twins. Mel was still sleeping too.

Kira had chosen to go home the night before, wanting to see her family after everything.

Noah then came into the kitchen, already dressed in uniform for work.

Lydia followed him but a moment later, asking, “Off to work already?”

Noah nodded. “Not optional. With finding that horror show? We’re bringing in officers and crime techs from Beacon city to help. There’s too much there for local forces alone. We also found documents that to the uninformed looked like child trafficking.”

Eyes going big, Lydia asked carefully, “And to the informed eye?”

Not looking at Lydia, Noah said quietly, “It looks like Gerard was trying to track packs through their school age children, even abducting and ransoming them. Probably to draw packs out for slaughter.”

Forcing herself not to cry at such a horrendous tactic, Lydia nodded. “Is there anything we need to be concerned about coming back on us?”

Noah shook his head, “No, not right now. There may be questions down the line depending on what we find that could lead to Derek being interviewed.”

Derek’s head lifted at that as did Peter and Stiles’.

Stiles said, almost to himself, “As a victim.”

Noah nodded, “Yes, son. As a victim. If they documented what Kate… depending on what they documented, the Hales could come up. However, it would be as victims. Nothing more. Potentially could even lead to a lawsuit against the city by the Hales should they see fit.”

“Lawsuit?” Derek asked, confused.

Peter answered before Noah could. “About the fire being treated as an accident when it was arson. Noah’s efforts to look into it, along with myself and Chris over the last bit will spare the current County Sheriff and their office, but the previous Sheriff as well as those involved in the investigation could be considered legally negligent if not outright fraudulent.”

“… and that’s not even counting the school if they documented those parts too,” Stiles chimed in.

Lydia reached out to squeeze Noah’s shoulder softly before moving to do the same to Peter and then Derek. At Derek, Lydia stopped to lay a hopefully comforting hand on his shoulder while asking, “And if the documentation includes previous things Gerard had a hand in, will you give us a heads up, so that we’re not blindsided anymore than can’t be helped?”

Noah nodded. “I should also warn that there are rumors already of an investigation against myself possibly coming over the multiple attacks of my home and others by the hunters as well as the high murder rate compared to the low number of resolved cases.”

Nodding, Lydia sighed. “We’ll do what we can to stay off the radar of any police or other officials as well as see what we may be able to do to help resolve some of the cases where we can to—"

Holding a hand to stop her, Noah said, “I do not want any of you trying to resolve cases that are not members of the Sheriff’s department. However, I would deeply appreciate you all staying off the radar right now.’

“And, if anything comes up that may jeopardize that, contact and include me from the beginning to help cover and resolve things in the open, legally as much as we can manage.”

Lydia smiled slightly. “We’ll do what we can. When Mel’s up, we are going to ask her to call in to work today to help us set up a few things here.”

Noah added, “Also, Chris, Peter. One of you needs to come in. I’d prefer both, but I understand that may not be in the cards. Do what you can. We’re all hands-on deck at the office right now.”

Not letting either man answer, Lydia said, “You should grab some food and go on. We’ll work it out and send one or both a touch late.”

Peter perked a brow, and Chris didn’t seem so sure either.

Noah sighed, rubbing his face. “I’ll grab food on the way. I promised the others coffee.”

Lydia nodded, walking to her purse while still talking to Noah. “I understand. Get a breakfast sandwich—egg white sandwich.”

After a quick dig in her purse, Lydia produced a credit card. She walked up to Noah and handed it to him. “Consider the coffee, doughnuts, and whatever you all need on me this morning. I know I didn’t send you into a good place and know that you’re having to think on your feet to keep us all safe. It’s the least I can do.”

Sighing again, Noah ran a hand through his hair as he accepted the card from her. “Just make sure everyone’s going to be okay.”

Lydia nodded. “I promise.”

Stiles then interjected, “Lydia, you can’t let him go alone!”

Not needing Stiles to explain the concerns he had, Lydia stepped closer to set her hand on his. “Fair point. Sheriff?”

That got Noah’s attention. “Yes?”

Lydia sighed, “Would you go grab your coat while we figure this out real fast?”

Nodding in response, Noah moved to go grab his coat.

Once the Sheriff was gone, Chris asked, “Who’s going?”

Peter growled, staring down Stiles who moved like he might try to get up.

Holding his hands up in surrender, Stiles settled down into his seat. “Wasn’t going to work. Was just considering going to the living room to watch a movie on the big screen tv and maybe nap during. I want to work it all out of my system baking and all, but I’m just so tired.”

Lydia nodded at Stiles’ words, quietly approving of Peter no less with the look she gave him that she hoped conveyed that. Someone had to keep Stiles resting, so he could heal. She looked to Chris. “How’s your control feeling?”

Christopher shrugged. “Not sure, to be honest. Not been bitten that long.”

Rolling her eyes, Lydia shifted her attention to Peter, “Your thoughts?”

With a sigh, Peter acknowledged, “He’s listened to the blender run and alarms going off without freaking out. Honestly, he’s doing better than expected, but he shouldn’t go alone if you’re wanting him to go in, just to be safe.”

Lydia nodded. “Will you go with him? Noah did make it sound like it would help to have you both if we could spare you, and Stiles’ is right. Now is no time to have anyone going out alone.”

Even though she knew if she were a wolf Stiles’ challenging her would’ve been a bigger issue, Lydia viewed it as a strength that such a thing was not as big an issue for her. Additionally, it was done in her home among just the pack by a wounded pack member.

Peter didn’t look to happy about her sending him away from Stiles.

Lydia continued, “We’re having Mel stay home, and she can help watch over Stiles. Overall, we’re not really going anywhere. Today’s a school holiday for teacher training, so none of us even need to go to school. We’ll stay here to heal up and figure out a plan going forward. Just keep Chris in line and an eye on Noah. You three need to watch each other’s back since we don’t know yet how many hunters might be running around in town.”

Although he seemed tempted to fight, Peter gave a tired nod as he took the sling off of himself with the fox kit and put it on Lydia. “Okay. Please keep him off his feet and keep an eye on his pain and meds. He likes to ‘forget’ to mention issues with them both. Also, the kit needs a bottle every two hours as well as small bits of ground meat if you have any.”

Nodding, already intending to watch for those things in Stiles but very grateful for the guidance on the kit, Lydia didn’t say a ton one way or another beyond a nodded of understanding, wanting Peter to feel comfortable with his chosen partner and the kit being cared for. “I will, and I intend to have a wolf or two helping him with pain through the day to help as well.”

Peter nodded. “I’ll go get dressed.”

Christopher got up and headed to go get dressed himself as well.

Lydia was thankful she knew they each kept a spare uniform at work. With one choice dealt with, Lydia turned her focus to the kitchen. There was already a lot going on with it. Not raising her voice to a yell, but rather speaking calmly, Lydia said, “Boyd? Ethan? Could you help me in the kitchen?”

Stiles whined—“Seriously? I could just—”

Cutting her fellow teen off, Lydia said, “No. No, you won’t do a thing. I’ve got this.”

Boyd was the first to emerge in yesterday’s pants without any shoes or shirt. “Whatya need?”

Smiling sweetly, Lydia asked, “Could you go sit with Stiles? He could probably use a bit of pain drain and needs to get some rest.”

With a nod, Boyd shuffled toward Stiles to sit next to him and watch the movie Stiles had put on: Die Hard.

Ethan came out a little slower, but he was fully dressed in a mix of yesterday’s clothes and the stuff from Lydia’s Dad’s closet that she’d offered up for them to raid. As it was, it wasn’t like her father was around all the time anyways. Seeming a bit on the hesitant side as though there might be another immediate threat, Ethan came closer to her, “What’s up?”

Motioning him into the kitchen, Lydia said, “Peter set timers for the stuff in the ovens. Please keep an eye on things, and when the timers go off, take things out. I’ll lay down some potholders or racks for them to go on.”

Ethan nodded in agreement.

Lydia then went about digging around for potholders for the pans coming out as well as dishes and silverware for when everyone got to get eating. Even though she wasn’t really completely sure of herself, the fiery red head knew she needed to be strong for the others.

In response to that, Lydia tried to mimic what she could of Stiles’ being touchy with the pack and supportive.

--------------------------------------

An hour after brunch…

In the Martin living room, Stiles lay asleep over Derek and Boyd on the couch. Erica sat on Boyd’s other side, petting Stiles’ hair while they all watched the muted National Treasure movie on the big screen tv.

At the same time, Adrian was carrying into the room a plate with some knish for himself as a snack. He sat against the couch.

Lydia came into the room. She knelt down by Stiles, touching him with her eyes closed. Lydia felt as the Nogitsune slipped into Stiles’ sleeping form.

A knock on the door. Soft. Then, a hard knock of three fast raps upon the wood.

Smiling, Lydia stood, knowing everyone in the house that was awake already knew who it was as she’d briefed everyone on her intentions at brunch. Already dressed in a blue pencil skirt, matching petite heels, and white dress shirt, she headed for her front door, and opened it.

Just outside the door stood the Yukimura family: Noshiko, Ken, and Kira who was as always cute as a button.

Ken Yukimura was in the same time of slacks and semi-formal pattern dress shirt like when teaching History at Beacon High, but he looked notably more concerned.

Noshiko Yukimura was dress in all black, looking suspitious of having been invited to one of Kira’s friend’s houses.

Lydia knew the reason why may indeed upset the Kitsune, especially as the woman believed she was here to meet and chat with Lydia’s parents.

Kira was casual in jean shorts, pink tunic t-shirt, and sneakers. She came right in when Lydia opened the door more. Kira went right into the living room to be with the others she could see from the doorway.

Lydia said, “Please, come in. Let’s retire to the living room.”

Noshiko raised a brow but followed along with her husband who seemed to be friendly enough.

Once into the living room, Lydia motioned to the several available chairs in the room. Once everyone had sat, but before the amount of teenagers versus adults could be commented on, Lydia ripped the band-aid off. “I’m so sorry to have invited you here under misleading circumstances, but I didn’t trust communication through technology for what I wanted ot discuss.”

Looking to be ready for a fight, Noshiko said while looking to her husband then daughter before Lydia, “Then why are we here?”

Smiling as sweetly as she could, Lydia moved to sit down herself in a seat closer to the other teens than Noshiko and Ken. “I wanted to discuss an alliance.”

Narrowing her eyes, Noshiko said, “I have no idea to what you may be referring to.”

With a soft sigh, Lydia flashed her red Alpha eyes. “Yes, you do. This is the Hale-Stilinski pack. We were hoping that as Kira has been texting me and wanting to stay involved in the supernatural and join our pack, you would like to have an alliance with us.”

“You’ve brought the supernatural into our daughter’s life?!” Noshiko said as she stood up.

Barely refraining from rolling her eyes, Lydia said, “No, the Darach who tried to kill her did. Her powers awakening did. Hunters in town abducting teenagers did. One of those teens magically calling out for help, and Kira being among those who heard the call did.’

“I know you’ve not been in Beacon Hills in a long time, but we both know a Nemeton draws things to itself on a good day. And this one? It’s damaged. In part, by what you’ve done. However, I want peace and well-being for and between us.”

Derek’s eyes shot to Lydia.

Taking a deep breath, Lydia shook herself some. “Sorry, Stiles’ and other’s emotions are running strong in me. But that doesn’t change that I’d like to make peace with you for Kira’s sake.”

Ken sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Noshi, please, sit back down.”

Noshiko sat, looking to Lydia, “How do you know I’ve been here before?”

“The Nogitsune,” Lydia said calmly.

At those words, Noshiko was up with a flaming sword pulled from out of thin air.

Before Noshiko could do more, Kira was up and between Stiles and her mother. “Let them explain!”

Lydia sighed, nodding to Derek and Boyd.

Derek began rubbing Stiles’ back to help rouse him.

Boyd whispered to Stiles almost too quietly to be heard, “You’re safe, but you need to wake up.”

“You’re safe. Promise. You’re safe,” Erica followed up with as she rubbed his shoulder rather than stroking his hair.

Stiles slowly sat up with bloodshot, swollen blackeyes. He looked around himself before one eye went black.

“Void,” Noshiko gasped.

Ken gasped at seeing Stiles’s bruised face.

Shaking his head, Stiles sighed. “I was hoping I’d get to sleep through this.”

Kira didn’t give ground even as Stiles woke and her mom spoke.

Lydia said softly, “Please, let us explain. This isn’t what you think.”

Noshiko reached out to grab and pull her daughter out of the way to attack the Nogitsune.

However, Stiles lifted his hand up, clearly cause Noshiko to freeze mid motion into a still position. Not cold like ice, but still like stone though her eyes could still move.

Stiles nose started bleeding. He looked to Lydia, “Alpha, may I explain it to her?”

Ken looked utterly shocked at the situation.

Lydia nodded, adding, “Kira, please comfort your father. We don’t mean any harm.”

Kira moved as asked.

Stiles held out his hand for Lydia.

Even though she didn’t like what she knew he was going to do, Lydia took Stiles’ hand and let the Nogitsune slide into her and turn her eyes void black. He sat her back down in her seat, crossing her legs to wait patiently.

Stiles showed his callused hands and then motioned to Lydia. “The Nogitsune is in her now. So, let me explain.”

Derek snaked a hand up Stiles’ shirt to start pulling Stiles’ pain with a grunt.

Boyd and Erica were quick to follow Derek’s lead and pull Stiles pain—each making a small, pained sound.

Derek gritted out, “Stiles, sit down. You need to not use so much magic. Peter’ll be all our asses if you have to go back to the hospital because we took too poor care of you.”

After rolling his eyes, Stiles let himself plot down into Boyd’s lap. “One of our pack was hurt, wounded with a curse in the preserve. It was eating himself alive. He;s already been in a brutal battle and gained an Alpha spark, btu the curse was killing him in an intensely cruel and painful way.’

“I, with my pack and two other wolves, made a circle of protection for us and tried to fight, heal my beta turned Alpha. The curse was fast acting, and I was desperate to save him. I reached out to the Nemeton for help. I was desperate. In the end, the Nogitsune possessed my beta—with his permission. They made a deal.’

“Since then, the Nogitsune has helped to save my life at least three times not counting all it has done for my beta, my mate. I may no longer be the Alpha of this pack, but the Nogitsune became pack while I was Alpha, and remains pack with Lydia as the Alpha. In some ways, the Nogitsune and her bond in a whole different way than the Nogitsune had with my beta even.”

Noshiko forced herself to speak. “What beta could handle possession by a fox? A wolf cannot be a fox.”

“Peter Hale,” Stiles said, each syllable sounding more exhausted than the last. “He survived a hunter’s fire and being poisoned with Wolf’s Bane multiple times, a witch’s curse, madness, dozens of pack bonds being ripped from him, and even being forced into an Omega twice over. Honestly, I sometimes wonder if the Nogitsune loves Peter as much as I do.”

Noshiko’s eyes went wide. It was unclear what she was thinking or what she may intend to do.

Stiles felt blood starting to drip from his eyes as it ran down his nose more forcefully. He managed to wheeze out, “Lydia… Dark fox…”

Derek didn’t hesitate as Stiles lost consciousness. He rushed to standing, pulling Stiles with him, touching the teen to Lydia for the Nogitsune to rush back into him.

Noshiko stumbled as she was freed by Stiles losing consciousness.

Once the Nogitsune was clearly no longer in Lydia, Derek curled Stiles into him, sitting back on the couch, saying, “Someone get some towels for something.”

Erica and Adrian got moving to go grab dishtowels from the kitchen.

At the same time, Boyd put his hand on Stiles to pull the pain the teen had to be in. visibly gritting his teeth at the pain, Boyd got out, “I think he may have ripped a stitch. I think we should get Mel.”

Lydia nodded as she stood. “Kira, would you go down the left hall, third door on the right should be where Mel is sleeping. Please wake her up and tell her it’s Stiles!”

Ken asked a question aloud, though not to anyone in particular, “How is you’re all kids dealing with this? All but one of you are in one of my classes…”

Derek growled lightly. “I’m not a kid, nor am I in high school.”

Lydia picked up. “Just cause we’re young didn’t spare us from being targeted by hunters and the supernatural, inheriting the supernatural even. I know this isn’t what you wanted for your daughter… it’s not what any of us wanted for ourselves or each other, but here we are dealing with the reality. It’s part of why we’re seeking alliances. We’re young. We know that. There are adult too, but they’re working for the Sheriff’s office right now investigating Stiles and my abduction by a hunter who tortured us. We also have Mel who Kira is getting.”

Mel came in pretty quick with Kira on her heels, holding a first aid kit. “Do we know where he ripped?”

Boyd spoke first. “His chest, I think. He also bled from his nose and ears while doing some serious magic… without the Nogitsune to help heal.”

Frowning, Mel said, “Pull his shirt off, I need to check.”

Despite clearly being concerned, Derek slowly peeled Stiles out of the shirt he was wearing while maintaining contact to keep pulling pain and also not let the teen fall to the ground.

Boyd was right, some of the stitches on his chest had been damaged and were bleeding through the wrapping on his chest.

After peeling as gently as she could the bandaging off of Stiles’ chest, Mel grabbed the first aid kit and began cleaning Stiles’ wounds before restitching the few that were damaged. Once she was done, all under the watchful eyes of the Yukimura family, Mel bandaged Stiles’ stiches up. She checked his back, but even though there was no bleeding through, Mel peeled off the bandages gently and clean it all up. No stitches were pulled but it was still good to clean and rebandage since she had done the front already.

Once all done, Mel sat back on her heels, having at some point moved to her knees while working on Stiles. “Why was he doing so much magic while he’s supposed to be resting?”

Lydia admitted, “I wanted to get ahead of things and try to form an alliance with the Yukimura family as Kria and Noshiko are both Thunder Kitsune.”

Derek looked about ready to face palm.

Noshiko spoke slowly. “This isn’t a game.”

Lydia looked to the Kitsune. “You saw my beta, Stiles. Do you think we consider this a game?”

After a moment of thought, Noshiko said. “While a valid point in flesh, one cannot trust a Nogitsune. You are dangerous as a pack as long at the Demon Fox is a part of this.”

Rolling her eyes this time, Lydia smiled so coldly the pack knew she was dead serious. “You’re right, we are a dangerous pack. We’ve got born wolves, the Nogitsune, a Thunder Kitsune, and more. Trust me, you do not want us as an enemy, so please stop talking like we have no idea what we’re in, like we cannot make real, informed choices.’

“As it is, the Nogitsune knows they have a blood claim against you for pulling out of a deal sealed in blood. You are the fox, perhaps that cannot be trusted. That’s what the Nogitsune thinks of you, as an oath breaker. We’re willing to form an alliance of sorts with you due to Kira and her love of you.’

“I will also say, should you agree to an alliance, I will promise you that breaking it will cost your life this time. Possibly more.”

Lydia didn’t flinch away from her words. She sounded cold, willing to take it to the grave and beyond.

Noshiko paused, then asked, “What would this alliance mean in terms of benefits?”

“Ken will have the option of being pack adjacent. You can live within our territory, and be considered under our protection as a family,” Lydia answered promptly.

“And in return?” Noshiko asked, not seeming too pleased.

“You’ll not hunt the Nogitsune or in any way attempt to affect or otherwise inhibit, restrict the Dark Fox. Additionally, you will work with us to defend the territory should it come to that at any point. You will also abide and honor our alliances with others as they shall our alliance with you. Ideally, there will be information sharing, but I do understand that both yourself and the Nogitsune need more time on that front.”

Noshiko thought a moment before pushing, “What about us knowing your pack make up?”

Frowning and defensive, Derek cut in, “Do you mean knowing the pack members names? Our numbers?”

Nodding, Noshiko said, “And the species present as well.”

Lydia shook her head. “I cannot give that without speaking with my whole pack privately, and as mentioned before, they are not all here right now.”

Frowning herself now, Noshiko said, “I really do not feel like we are getting much out of this.”

“People who will come for you should something happen. People who will protect you, Kira, and Ken with even our lives should it come to it. This is not enough. An alliance is a partnership, and we are offering mutual protection and aid,” Lydia stated without emotion, holding back how much else she’d like to say. “They are numerous hunters in town and their numbers are growing. Do you really think they just want to kill a couple teenage wolves?”

“Kira’s pack, you’ll protect her almost as much as I will,” Noshiko noted, but without heat.

Lydia didn’t give ground. “True, but without an alliance, you will have to leave the territory. There is no version of this where an enemy lives in our territory.”

Noshiko raised a hand, saying, “From what I understand, the True Alpha prefers peace to violence. Is he not your friend? An ally?”

Lydia grinned without humor. “Word has not gotten out yet, but he’s dead. The same hunters that captured and tortured myself and my beta, who was an Alpha at the time despite being for all appearances strictly human like I am to most, they also took a teenage hunter and the True Alpha. They drugged him up to past feral and let him loose on and causing him to kill the teenage hunter who had in the past been who he considered his ‘true love’. After ripping her to pieces almost beyond recognition, this TEENAGER took his own life in sorrow and regret for killing. He’s gone now. ‘

“I’ve seen, as have many here, what happens when you let a threat stay, when you choose nonviolence, lack of action. This is my effort to give you chance, give you an option for Kira’s sake and in Scott’s memory. Do not make regret it or revoke the option because I will not blink before either killing you myself.”

Noshiko held her head high. “And, if you are only human appearing, what is it you do that I should fear my death at your hands?”

Smiling a touch more ferally, Lydia said, “I am a Banshee. I’ll scream you to oblivion. Or, if you were to take the offered alliance and betray us? I’d let the Nogitsune chose what and who would pay beyond just my killing you… slowly.’

“Oh, and for context, the young hunter? Allison Argent. Her father? Chris Argent? He’s joined our pack since Gerard Argent is who is heading some of the amassing hunters in town. I’m sure you familiar with him? Even if just the rumors, which I assure you are not as bad or stomach churning as what he really does as a sexually violent, speciesist serial killer.”

Chapter Text

That night…

Stiles groaned as he rolled over on the couch. Everything hurt so, so much. He was well beyond over all of it. He just didn’t have that choice in this fight. Even stepping back from being the Alpha, Stiles was still loyal to his pack, his family.

A warm hand slid down stiles’ arm before Peter spoke, “Darling, sleeping here will do you no good.”

The older wolf lifted Stiles up and held him close, whispering softly to him, “I heard you were good and rested today while I was gone.”

Stiles groaned. “You make it sound like it was optional… Boyd and Erica followed me around and kept me pinned to resting along with Derek and Mel.”

Peter nodded, carrying Stiles to the room “I heard you ripped some stitches doing some magic?”

Grumbling, Stiles said, “Noshiko tried to attack. She was not making good choices. I helped her.”

Frowning, Peter laid Stiles on the bed, tucking him in some before climbing in himself, “I thought she agreed to an alliance?”

Stiles shuffled closer to Peter a whimper at a time before snuggling as close as he could. “Yeah, but that was after some explanations and a reality check or three,”

Peter hummed to stop himself from making any other sound as he pulled Stiles closer and began to take the young man’s pain. It was going to be a long night.

-

In the kitchen, Lydia sat with Noah, Mel, Chris, and her own mother, Natalie. Spreading out some notes she’d managed to take through the day, Lydia explained, “I think what makes the most sense is to keep Mel at the hospital with Deucalion and Derek like before. Peter and Chris can help Noah at the Sheriff’s office. But Mom, I want you to apply to be the Principal at the High School. With him being investigated, Gerard’s not going to show for work, and they’ll be in a tight spot. I want you to swoop in on that before another hunter can be put into position.”

“Honey, do you really feel like this is the best use of me?” Natalie asked her daughter. “I mean, I’m influential in a lot of areas, dear.”

Lydia nodded, “Yes, you are Mom, but you’re also an adult in the know. That will help us so much at the school, including but not limited to allowing us to be able to better protect the school from hunters and the supernatural as needed.”

Frowning, Natalie said, “Have hunters been a threat at the school?”
Taking great pains to be patient and kind, Lydia said, “I’m sorry that did not get explained before, but yes. Stiles was abducted from the lacrosse field during a big game. Hunters have tried to recruit there when Gerard was principal, plus Gerard used his position to hunt. And gather information”

Clearly not pleased, Natalie Martin decisively nodded. “Then, I think there may need to be some revisions to school policy.”

Noah seemed concerned but didn’t give voice to it.

Mel was incredibly quiet, the ghost of her loss of Scott in the room but so far not spoken of.

Chris asked, “Wouldn’t it be better to have someone else there alongside Natalie?”

Natalie cleared her throat.

“As back up,” Chris quickly added.

Lydia smiled, “She’ll have back up. Don’t forget, most of the pack will be at the high school with her.”

Wincing at the sore reality, Chris just gave a faint nod.

Noah then spoke up, asking, “What is the plan moving forward from this?”

Nodding in acknowledgement of the Sheriff’s words, Lydia said, “It sets us up at tent pole positions to start, and then we’re going to expand. I know of at least one more person in school who I would like to bring into pack.’

“Additionally, if you’re being investigated, I want to get ahead of that too. Mel, have you heard if Agent McCall is with the FBI supposedly in town?”

“Huh?” Mel asked, surprised.

Noah looked about the same. “I never mentioned McCall.”

Lydia shrugged. “I just figure with Scott’s body, McCall would want to be here to investigate.”

Looking down and frowning, then looking to Chris, Noah returned his attention to Lydia. “Neither Scott nor Allison’s body’s were at the scene.”

“What?!” Lydia asked.

Mel looked up at that as though a glimmer of hope might be there.

Sad that he had to kill that hope, Chris sighed. “I saw their bodies. They’re dead. Allison was in pieces. Scott cut himself so deeply he nearly cut a piece off. Why their bodies aren’t there though? I’ve no clue. I was able to go back with Deputy Parrish earlier, but couldn’t scent anything in particular that seemed out of place.’

“I mean, I could smell that they’d been there, but no sign of what happened to the bodies, decay or otherwise. I’d originally hoped that Peter got rid of them due to it not looking quite right, but when I caught him for a moment alone he assured me it’d not been his doing nor Deucalion’s.”

After a deep breath to steady her nerves, Lydia said, “Okay, we’ll set that on the back burner for the moment. Was Scott’s blood or DNA at all found by the crime scene techs?”

Noah nodded, “Yes, they did. And yes, Agent McCall is in town. He should’ve arrived today. It’s part of why I wanted both Peter and Chris there today for if I got sent home for one reason or another. I wanted ot make sure we had as much support as possible even if I was asked ot leave with them having found Stiles’ DNA too.”

Lydia looked apologetically to Chris before asking Noah, “They found Allison’s DNA and blood too?”

Noah nodded. “Yes. There was enough of her blood for them to confirm her likely death. Scott’s is implied likely, but more investigation will be needed to confirm. Where he was soaked up blood quite effectively, so time will tell on that front.”

Mel started tearing up. “Do I need to be here for this?”

Feeling bad for Melissa, Lydia took the older woman’s hands into her own. “Melissa, do what is best for you as long as you do not go out by yourself. We ‘re just breaking down our next step or two.”

Nodding, Melissa slipped her hands free, saying over her shoulder, “I’m going to bed.”

Lydia felt her eyes moisten, but she refused to let tears fall. Scot was dead. Allison was dead. No tears now would spare either of them from their fate. Clearing her throat to ease the way it sought to choke out a sob, Lydia forced her mind to business. “I think we need to stabilize our territory and awaken the Nemeton. For this, we need to awaken Isaac and help Stiles through his change. It’s likely coming sooner than we’re going to be ready.”

“Change?” Chris asked.

With a sad smile, Lydia explained. “Peter bit Stiles to try to save his life.”

Noah frowned. “Shouldn’t he be all healed already then?”

Shrugging, Lydia acknowledged, “He’s taken a lot of damage and also did some magic today. It would be hard for me to say. We’ll have to ask Peter.”

Looking around, Noah asked, “Where did Peter go?”

“To Stiles. Took him to sleep,” Lydia explained. “Derek did the same with Alice and Deucalion and the others. We’re all those who are awake here. Everyone’s pretty exhausted. It’s part of why we’re almost done.”

Chris then asked, “In waking up Isaac, what is it we’ll need?”

Appreciating the directness, Lydia answered Chris. “The Nogitsune believes we’ll need Stiles and really the whole pack. Us having Isaac out of the hospital and with us will also likely help. It’s going to be a bit of a summoning, and a whole lot of arguing.”

“Arguing?”

“With fey,” Lydia stated as casually as one might the weather.

“The fey?!” Chris exclaimed. “They are incredibly dangerous!”

Lydia flashing her red then black eyes as she calmly said, “So am I. So are we.”

Chapter Text

The next morning…

In matching yellow-duck patterned pajama top and bottoms, Lydia sat at the breakfast bar in the large kitchen. She knew it was early for a day she wasn’t going to school, but it made no dent upon her. She ran her hands through her long flaming locks, reminding herself that she could do this. Stiles had trusted her with the Alpha spark, with the pack. It was her job to do the best by them all that she could.

So far, Lydia had two different coffee pots brewing as well as two kettles heating. She knew Stiles would be cooking or providing more, but she also knew she couldn’t hold herself to being him. She simply wasn’t. She was herself. Additionally, no one else seemed ot be up just yet wit the days preceding not being exactly restful but rather incredibly traumatic on a range of levels.

After getting up to fix herself a cup of Lady Grey tea with a dash of oat milk, Lydia caught sight of Peter slowly slipping into the room. “How’s he doing?”

Looking uncharacteristically tired, Peter acknowledged her with a nod before setting up some simple green tea for himself. “Rough. He is certainly turning, but I think the levels of healing he requires are slowing the process.”

Lydia nodded. “Is there anything we can be doing to help him?”

Sighing, Peter said, “Probably pack time, bonding. That and pushing food and rest as you would for anyone healing up.”

Nodding again, Lydia said, “Sounds like a good place to start. I was wondering how you would feel about being my Right hand?”

Perking a brow, Peter asked, “Then who will be your Left hand?”

Smiling, Lydia gently touched his shoulder. “I have no chosen that for sure, though there are two potential candidates. But first, will you be my Right hand?”

Peter nodded. “Yes, Alpha.”

A tingle ran down Lydia’s spine at him calling her that. “Wow… I didn’t realize I would feel that.”

Shrugging, Peter said, “Hard to predict. It’s not like Banshees have a habit of becoming Alphas of Werewolf packs.”

Lydia nodded. “Fair.”

Starting ot hear others starting to stir a touch, Lydia said, “I wanted to warn you that some of us are leaving the house today. We need to grab books and resources from everyone’s places as well as clothes and I’m having some groceries delivered today as well.”

“Is this going to be something permanent?”

“I’m hoping so, yes,” Lydia said. “I’m not as associated just yet, and I have the money through my parents to have at least some semblance of a buffer to start.”

Peter nodded. “Who’re you sending?”

Lydia said, “I’m hoping to request police escort for Stiles’ place since it is still a crime scene. Then, was hoping you, Chris, and Noah could stop by your place on the way back here later for lunch or after work?”

“Who all is going to the Stilinski place besides Stiles?”

-------------------------------

Later that morning…

Stile sat on his bed in his bedroom. This felt so surreal. Even though his bedroom was not a part of the crime scene, Stiles still had to walk through the crime scene. Unlike the first time his house was hit by hunters, the house was a crime scene for far longer as well as had the FBI crawling through with a fine tooth comb.

The damage to the house downstairs was not earth shattering, but Stiles couldn’t deny that it was hard to feel safe here right now with the house having been attacked as much as it had. Add on all the other things that had come on up to now? Could he ever really feel fully safe again?

Watching as Lydia and Erica were packing up all of his books, Stiles snapped out of his thoughts a little to ask, “Wait, are we moving all of my stuff?”

Lydia paused, holding some of his paperbacks in her hand. She took a breath before admitting, “I would like to move you, yes.”

“Didn’t think to ask?”

Sighing, she admitted, “I figure you’ve got a lot of healing to do as well as this is not a safe place right now. You heard your dad earlier—they want to puzzle out what is going on with this town. Makes sense for you to stay with friends for a bit to heal so you don’t have to deal with all of this, right?”

Stiles heard everything she wasn’t saying, couldn’t say as Parrish was standing by the doorway as their escort. She was saying that he couldn’t be alone for a while anyways, and this would draw the hunter’s focus away from the Sheriff to give him a break in terms of causing issues with the investigation into the Sheriff. Lydia was also consolidating forces.

Even is she didn’t say, Stiles was certain that Lydia was scared. She had lost Allison, and they were all thoroughly traumatized. Her instinct ot gather and protect were not wrong, but Stiles chaffed against it a bit.

At the same time, the Nogitsune within him hummed about how this was the safest options for the time being.

With a put upon sigh, Stiles nodded. “You’re right. I just… it’s scary, you know?”

Erica and Lydia nodded, but Erica was the one to speak first, “I get it. Things are so crazy right now.”

Stiles nodded. He then got himself on point. No need to risk sharing anything they didn’t want overheard because while Parrish was Parrish, there were other officers and FBI agents down stairs. Stiels was all too familiar with how sound traveled in his house. “Don’t worry about anymore fiction books then. I think we’ve got enough of those. Could be do more of my nonfiction and my records?”

Lydia nodded, packing the books in her hand before moving on to what he’d requested.

Erica moved on to focus more on what Stiles’ had referenced by his ‘files’, which would likely be misunderstood by people not in the know as perhaps his birth certificate and stuff like that, but was actually the criminal files and research he’d accrued in his room over the years.

While the girls were packing those things, Stiles continued folding clothes. He’d been pretty basic, having the girls just dump his clean laundry on his bed. Stiles wasn’t really up to wandering around much, and he needed to look it for the officers especially. As a result, Stiles was Marie Kondo folding his clothes tiny to fit into a big suitcase they’d been able to get down from the attic. Although he was intentionally leaving behind some of his extra lacrosse gear, Stiles was still hiding some weapons in his folding to disguise and bringing his lacrosse stick with him to Lydia’s.

Running a hand through his hair, Stiles paused his folding again to ask Parrish, his voice smaller than he’d intended, “Can we get some waters? There should be some in the fridge still? Or maybe some on the back porch?”

Parrish nodded and left to go grab what was asked for, seemingly swayed by how weak Stiles had sounded. “I’ll be right back. Don’t leave the room.”

Once Parrish had been out of sight for two breaths, Stiles motioned his arms to draw the girl closer so he could whisper once they were close: “There are jars under my bed of spell ingredients and Wolf’s Banes, etc. Grab ‘em please while Parrish is out.”

Erica was quick on it while Lydia was busy making a bit of a mess to disguise their packing of the items they didn’t want to advertise possessing, let alone packing.

A few minutes later, Erica had managed to get all the stuff out and hidden in other things they were packing while Lydia was intentionally making noise about how Stiles needed new clothes quite desperately.

Just then, Parrish re-entered the room with a water bottle for each of them.

Stiles nodded as he accepted the bottle handed to him, “Thank you.”

Opening and drinking nearly half the bottle in one drink, Stiles sighed in relief admitting aloud, “Wow, I was even more thirsty than I realized.”

Lydia rolled her eyes fondly before returning to packing.

Even though they’d managed to pack several boxes, the reality was that Stiles wasn’t exacting overflowing with possessions. Thankfully, he’d managed to get his clothing folded and packed as well as get together his mother’s things that he kept in his room.

Erica commented as she was zipping up then latching the suitcase Stiles had packed, “Wanna grab something for dinner when we’re done here?”

Stiles smiled. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

Lydia shook her head, saying, “How about we finish first and get home. We can order something to the house. I don’t know about either of you, but some sushi and croissants sounds phenomenal.”

“Hmmm… croissants with coffee!” Stiles cheered in voice only. All the folding and trying to make sure nothing was forgotten that they’d need was tiring.

Smiling, Erica said, “Weird combos, but maybe we could get pizza like normal teens?”

Stiles smiled. “Thank you, guys, for helping me.”

Once everything they were taking was packed up, Erica, Lydia, and Parrish carried things down to Lydia’s car where Stiles was helping to Tetris everything into the trunk and half the back seat. It was abit tight, but everything did fit.

With the vehicle filled with what they were taking, Stiles spoke to Parrish, “Thank you again for being our escort. I really wasn’t sure I could come back without the support.”

Parrish nodded. “I get it. It’s scary to have your home attacked, let alone twice so close together.”

Lydia nodded, hugging Stiles a touch closer to her. “We still want you to know how much we appreciate you. Please be safe. No idea what’s going on with these weird attacks, but I everyone’s being as safe as they can be.”

With a smile, Parrish said. “We’re taking it very seriously and being cautious. Don’t worry about a thing. Do you need an escort for the drive from here?”

Lydia shook her head. “No, we’re going straight to my house, and my Mom’s home still. We should be good. But thank you for the offer.”

Parrish nodded and said his goodbyes as the teens loaded up into Lydia’s vehicle.

A not too long drive later, Erica and Lydia took a load of Stiles’ things into Lydia’s house while Stiles rounded up the back carrying a coat and his lacrosse stick only to come face to face with Aiden and Ethan coming out to unload the rest of the things from Lydia’s car.

Inside, Stiles set the coat and lacrosse stick he was carrying in the room he’d slept in before going to the kitchen.

Lydia followed after him soon, saying, “Want to be a tie breaker?”

“Tie breaker?”

“Yeah, I’m going to make some sushi here since we have everything. The grocery order came while we were gone, but we’ll need more than that. Erica wants pizza. Aiden’s voting Chinese, and Ethan said he just really wants chicken if he can’t get deer,” Lydia explained.

Stiles nodded. “How about we order some pizzas including a chicken ranch pizza or two and I’ll make some tossed soy sauce and pork fried cabbage for Aiden?”

Nodding, Lydia said, “Deal, but you have to get help with the salad making.”

With a shrug, Stiles said, “No issue. I’m hoping to make enough someone can run it and a green side salad over to those at the station for lunch.”

-------------------------------

Around lunch time…

Derek walked into the Sheriff’s station carrying a couple larger hot & cold food containers. He went straight to the front desk. He wore his normal henley and jeans but worked to not frown. His resting trauma face wasn’t friendly but better than an outright scowl.

The deputy at the front s=desk looked up to Derek from where they sat saying, “Are you a delivery boy?”

Barely holding back from rolling his eyes, Derek said, “Kind of? This is all curtesy of Stiles Stilinski. He made lunch for his father as well as enough for the whole station and then some.”

Peter came out from one of the back offices, saying, “Something smells good.”

Sighing at his Uncle, Derek said, “Stiles sent lunch for everyone here.”

Peter didn’t wait for the person at the front desk to declare one thing or another and just accepted both the carriers Derek had, asking, “Hmm… what’d he make? Did he have help?”

Derek knew what his Uncle really meant was asking if Stiles was resting like he was supposed to be. “It’s Soy sauce and pork fried cabbage with green salad, homemade dressing, pork and mushroom pot stickers as well as some vegetable and herb eggrolls. He might have also added some seasame seeds and soy sauce packs and hot mustard too.’

“And, yes, he had help. He spent his time teaching all of his friends how to make pot stickers and eggrolls. I think Lydia is officially never going to help Stiles cook again though after he made her re-roll a few eggrolls more than twice. He got pretty nitpicky near the end, so he took a nap after.”

-------------------------------

In the backroom of the closed Veterinary clinic…

Dressed as though going to school, Theo tapped his claw-tipped fingers on the lab table while watching as Deaton sew one stitch at a time to more fully restore and attach the flesh and more of his own that Scott had slashed to kill himself.

Theo had been happy with the news of the ‘goody two shoes’” death, but it seemed the teen was not through just yet. Others had different plans from Scott’s. Theo just hoped the plans hurt. What was life without inflicting pain on others?

In light blue scrubs, Deaton seemed in his own world as he made tight knots every three sutures sewed as he went. The veterinarian didn’t seem even remotely phased by Scott’s still open, unseeing eyes.

Frowning out of boredom, Theo asked, “And remind me again why we’re doing this?”

Deaton ignored the younger in favor of focusing on his task.

Another man came out of a side room wearing a mechanical mask over his face while wearing white, yet blood stained, scrubs. The man pushed in a another lab table on wheels with what looked to be a body under a white, yet blood stained cloth.

Chapter Text

In the backroom of the closed Veterinary clinic…

Frowning out of boredom, Theo asked, “And remind me again why we’re doing this?”

Deaton ignored the younger in favor of focusing on his task.

Another man came out of a side room wearing a mechanical mask over his face while wearing white, yet blood stained, scrubs. The man pushed in another lab table on wheels with what looked to be a body under a white, yet blood-stained cloth.

Looking up from his task after tying another knot, Deaton asked, “Did you finish?”

Voice somewhat robotic, the man in a mechanical mask said, “Almost. All stitched up, but no spark of life. Are you intending to make him other or simply bring him back to life? I have the equipment for more.”

Deaton nodded. “More, but first, I must secure where he’s cut himself. It would seem he was not as clean in his efforts to kill himself as I’d have preferred for my purposes, but I’ll make it work. Are your associates joining us?”

After an inhuman chuckled, the robotic voice explained, “Not here, at least for now. They are setting up our full lab right now. Once it is put to rights, we’ll move these bodies there for further alteration as well as bringing them back to a form of life.”

Theo jumped in asking, “Do you need more bodies?”

-------------------------------------

The Martin house…

Peter walked into the house carrying a stack of boxes behind Noah, who’d opened the door for him.

Behind them both was Chris, who was also carrying a stack of boxes.

Once inside, Peter led the way to the room Stiles and he had slept in to stack the boxes on the other side of the room from Stiles’ boxes of things. The room, though not gigantic, was plenty big enough for the two of them.

Although grateful that he’d not had to move fully out of his apartment, Peter did intend to move more out the next day too. However, he still had some more boxes to bring from the cars. However, when Peter exited the room he found that Ethan, Aiden, Cora, Erica, and Boyd had all gone out and gotten the rest of the boxes with Noah manning the door for them.

Smiling a touch, Peter said, “Thank you. I appreciate the help.”

Then, Peter sought out Stiles. More and more, Peter found himself even more drawn to Stiles than normal, especially the new scent he had been developing.

It took little time to find Stiles as he was sitting in the kitchen at the breakfast bar, leaning over it with his head resting on his hand propped by his elbow on the bar top. The young man was speaking with Deucalion, “No, you see, I can’t become a wolf because I’m a fox. As you guys explained to me after you all rescued me, I called out to foxes. All things are in threes, so that means I called out as a fox to other foxes. You can’t be a fox and a wolf, Duke.”

Peter approached from behind, but he made sure to make noise so as not to startle Stiles. Hugging the young man from behind, Peter kissed Stiles’ cheek. “Think you won’t be a wolf when you shift?”

Stiles shook his head, saying, “Can’t be a wolf and a fox.”

“Hmmm… but foxes don’t often have pack. Well, outside of family anyways. However, we are human, not just the were-animal. If you view us as family, even as a fox, you could form and be able to maintain pack bonds,” Peter explained.

Tilting his head faintly, Stiles seemed to consider this. “I do think of pack as family, but I don’t know that foxes recognize chosen family. I think they are about strictly blood family; however, you’re right that as humans, chosen family is just as good as blood family.”

Peter nodded.

Lydia walked into the room looking tired—more so than she had earlier in the day.

Before anyone else, Stiles asked, “Are you okay, Lyds?”

After a bone-weary sigh, Lydia said, “I will be. Just not right now. I took a nap and had an enlightening dream. I think we should do the spell for Isaac tonight.”

Peter frowned. “Stiles isn’t healed up yet. He’s not even had his first shift.”

With a look of knowing, Lydia nodded. “True, but I think time is not on our side. We don’t have time to rest and recoup fully. We need to get things moving. Hence the efforts to move people today. I think that as a pack, we should go out to the Nemeton after diner with the appropriate herbs and Isaac to set things to right on that front.”

Stiles sighed himself, nodding. “I can do it. May need to be carried back out of the preserve when all is said and done, but I have some herbs and other things I’d like to include. I’ve been reading some of the hunter’s journals recovered from Gerard’s base where he kept us to help with the dragons and others.”

Frowning, Peter asked, “When were you doing this?”

Stiles shrugged. “It’s a compromise. Sitting around doing nothing to rest when I’m not able to nap or sleep more is a no-go for me, especially with my laptop needing to charge. So, as a compromise, I’ve been laying around and reading when not sleeping or trying to help with stuff that people then take over to make me go back to resting.”

Just then, Sam and Grit walked into the kitchen holding hands.

Grit stood taller than he had before having shifted the night before and being helped by Deucalion who’d still been up and Peter who’d turned the teen. The turn had gone well, and Grit was a dusty brown wolf with orange eyes and white splotches on his foot pads.

Sam, on the other hand, seemed smaller, shy even, beside his brother. Sam then spoke, “We would like to talk… well, ask for something really. May I have the bite? We want… I want to be like my brother. I want us to be together in everything, and with him turning successfully, I’d like to turn as well. Together, being the same in a sense.”

Peter perked a brow.

Deucalion asked softly, “Is it a twin thing?”

Grit shrugged. “Yeah, but also a way of fully breaking from what we were. They shot at us. They didn’t care that we were teens. Didn’t care that we’d fought alongside them. We were nothing to them. We want to be something.”

Sam continued for Grit, “And, well… we’ve seen how you all are with each other. I’d like to be a wolf, but together we’d like to submit and join the pack, if you’ll let us. We believe you wouldn’t turn on your own pack, despite our training. Everything we were taught about wolves is probably wrong. So far, everything we’ve been told that has come up, none of you do but other hunters have done.”

“We are not blind. We see the hunters’ hypocrisy, and we want something better. Family even, if possible. We don’t have a family that is likely to accept us, and with Rod no longer being with us? Even worse. He was the favorite, the prized son,” Grit explained.

Deucalion looked at Peter who turned Grit.

Peter to consider their request before looking to Lydia for her opinion as the Alpha of the pack.

Even with how tired she appeared, Lydia smiled softly before asking Peter—“Your thoughts?”

Being honest, Peter said, “I understand the drive to be together in this way, but I’d like to talk to them a more before biting anyone else. Additionally, we still have another bitten person who needs to turn fully and hasn’t yet. I’m not saying never. I just think we should wait.”

Lydia nodded. She suspected part of the concern was that Grit’s eyes were orange and not blue. It implied he may not feel bad for anything he’d been a part of, but there was no guarantee there. Talking more made a lot of sense. Moving her attention more fully to Grit and Sam, Lydia said, “We’re very open to this, but we want to talk a bit more with you about things as well as sort out a thing or two in the pack first. Also, you are both welcome to submit to be a part of the pack now should you choose. Non-wolves can be pack to.”

-------------------------------------

In one of the many rooms of the Martin residence, Cora sat cross-legged on the floor, feeding a hatchling. She and the old man who was rescued from Gerard’s base had taken to helping the father dragon feed his babes.

The dragon father seemed overwhelmed with his loss, but he was still fighting to care for his young.

Cora understood. She’d lost so much at a young age, so many family members killed in so brutal a fashion. It was too much to take, yet she had survived. That gave her faith that the father would be able to make it too; however, she also wanted to provide him with the help she’d received from the pack that took her in down in South America after the fire. It seemed appropriate to pass on the kindness she’d received in her time of need. It was the least she could do.

With her help multiple times a day, every day since the dragons were freed, Cora found that the hatchlings as well as their father had warmed up to her. She gently pet and fed the babes one at a time.

Helping to care for them helped Cora to step out of herself some. The loss of so many was heartbreaking. How could this all keep happening? How could the Argents keep taking and taking and taking? They even killed their own, for goodness’ sake!

Cora hoped that Lydia was crueler, capable of brutal punishment of their enemies, of those who could do things like this! Even though Cora knew Stiles had been a good Alpha to her Uncle Peter, Cora wanted violence and retribution. Stiles seemed too peaceful, too kind in his way for what Cora wanted.

Maybe Cora was wrong, but with Stiles willingly giving up his Alpha spark, Cora knew it didn’t really matter right now. May not matter for a while or not ever again. More important now was where this all would lead. The next steps. Cora didn’t know every detail, but she did know she was here for violence and revenge. She understood better than ever the drive to avenge her family.

Softly petting the belly of a hatchling, Cora asked softly, “Did you and your mate name them?”

The dragon father curled around one of the babes, the smallest of the survivors, and said quietly, “Yes, but I don’t want to say their names yet. I am not ready.”

Cora nodded. “I understand. It’s too early to trust.”

The dragon shook his head. “It’s not that. It’s more that naming them was one of the last things their mother did before dying. It’s… I need time.”

Nodding quickly in understanding as well as sadness at the weight of what those words portrayed, Cora kept petting the hatchling she had. “If there is anything I can do to help, to ease your pain, please do not hesitate to ask.”

The dragon nodded, nuzzling the child he was curled around. “I just need time.”

The older man who’d been rescued gently reached out to squeeze Cora’s shoulder as he addressed the dragon. “We can certainly give you time. And we’ll help in any way you allow us. You’re not facing this alone.”

Cora couldn’t deny that it felt nice to be reassured. It even felt strangely familiar though she could not put her finger on why.

Just then, Erica and Boyd came in with more food for the hatchlings.

-------------------------------------

Mel sat in the living room, holding a swaddled baby that she was feeding from a bottle as she cooed softly, “You’ve got nothing to worry about little boy. They’re a good pack that’ll take such good care of you.”

Sitting in a different chair diagonally from Mel, Jackson rolled his eyes at her words even as he held a smaller baby whose other form was a fox. All the while, Jackson whisper spoke to the child from a book while gently rocked the baby to help them fall asleep, “…and then Little Red Riding Hood said, ‘Grandma, why are your eyes so big?”

Ethan had borrowed Lydia’s yoga matt from her room. He was now slowly moving through a series of yoga poses, holding each one for roughly thirty seconds to a minute for the more static ones and moving with precision slowness to really stretch out his limbs and the rest of his body. Breathing in and out with each movement and pose shift, Ethan seemed at peace in a sense.

At the same time, Aiden was napping on one of the couches in the room with a couch cushion over his face to block out the light.

Noah was sitting in another chair, clicking through channels on the television.

Isaac, too, was in the living room in his hospital bed. Adrian was currently the one cuddled with Isaac to help him feel pack.

Adrian wasn’t napping, but was cuddling Isaac while he watched the television, even suggesting, “Hey, there’s supposed to be a baseball game on.”

Chapter Text

Nearing Midnight…

In the Nemeton clearing within the preserve, Stiles was sitting on the Nemeton’s stump mixing dried herbs. Beside him, Stiles had multiple bowls with different herbs and pastes that he’d been making. He was preparing for a full-scale bursting of magic and power.

Lydia was placing cinnamon sticks in the ground in a huge circle around the Nemeton but within the clearing along with Kira, Erica, and Cora.

Boyd, Ethan, Aiden, Adrian, and Jackson sprinkled ground yarrow, oregano, valerian root, ginger root, and lemon verbena all around inside the cinnamon stick circle to keep the insides in and the outsides out in a sense.

Derek was standing next to the Nemeton with Isaac in his arms in a bridal carry.

Peter, Chris, and Deucalion were each putting a touch of their blood into a small bowl that already had a little blood from each of the other members of their pack, including those not in attendance like Noah, Melissa, the Yukimura’s, the young hunters, and others that they’d rescued.

Even though things had not been as long and laboriously planned as she would’ve preferred to have them, Lydia was still glad they’d set up protections for those at her home and had a chance for Stiles to go over with everyone here for the ritual their roles.

Although it might’ve been nice to include all the others who were staying with them, it just was not practical on such short notice. They’d at least been able to put protections on the house to keep everyone there safe as well as prep for the night those who chose to stay with the pack for now: the twin hunts, Alice, and an older man that the Sheriff and his deputies had pulled out of Gerard’s hell hole but did not have family to come for him, according to him. Plus, Kira and her family who chose to stay with those they’d rescued as well as Noah and Mel just ot make sure it was safe.

Additionally, the members of the pack that had submitted to Stiles previously, resubmitted to the Hale spark now in Lydia as well as Derek’s pack and Cora. Peter had pushed for it to help strengthen the pack bond in advance of what they were doing now.

Lydia didn’t fight Peter’s idea, aware that they had to get this right. There was too much coming to be sloppy. She found it so daunting.

Stiles the stood with a bowl in hand, saying, “This one is done, so we can get some paste painting done now.”

One by one, each member if the pack allowed Lydia and Stiles to paint upon them while standing on the Nemeton stump. Stiles used a red or blue herb paste to draw symbols on each person according to if they were Alphas or betas. Lydia then used a light purple paste of lavender and lilac to put a mark on the third eye of each pack member. Once everyone else was done, Stiles and Lydia turned to each other to paint each other them themselves.

Then both Lydia and Stiles knelt on the Nemeton to use the rest of their paste to mark the stump as the pack had been marked to mirror as well as include the Nemeton with and to the pack.

Lydia and Stiles then stood up together.

Stiles picked up two other bowls he had on the stump that he’d mixed and handed one to Lydia as he spoke, “Okay, Hales come here please. Cora to Lydia. Derek and Peter to me. Please.”

All three Hales came forward.

Lydia gave the bowl she held to Cora.

Stiles gave the bowl he held to Derek while motioning for Peter to hop up on the stump with him and Lydia.

That done and with a compass in her hand, Lydia said while pointing people toward directions, “Okay, everyone can move to their places. Those who are to symbolize the elements, please go to the four corners. The mark Stiles gave you will match with it.”

Boyd moved to the Southern ‘corner’ of the circle that symbolized the element of Fire with Kira a few steps closer to the Nemeton.

Erica moved to the Western ‘corner’ of the circle that symbolized the element of Water.

Adrian went to the Eastern ‘corner’ of the circle to symbolize the element of Air.

The side of the Nemeton closest to the trees was the North ‘corner’ where Deucalion stood with Jackson a few steps in front of him.

Stiles then said, “Okay, Peter, can you pick up Isaac and put him in the center, please?”

While Peter was doing as Stiles asked, Lydia said, “Once Isaac is in place, Cora would you circle him with the herbs in your bowl? Then, Derek, would you use the herbs in the bowl you have to make lines shooting out from Cora’s herb circle like sun rays?”

With Isaac in the center now, Derek and Cora did as was requested of them.

At the same time, Stiles said, “Ethan? Aiden? You can move into your positions for the two liminal lines.”

Aiden and Ethan stood part way between the layer of those who represented the elements and the Nemeton opposite for one to the Northeast while the other was Southwest.

Once done, Cora and Derek set aside the bowl each of the had before moving to their spots opposite one another on the other liminal line. About the same distance from the Nemeton and those representing the elements as Aiden and Ethan, Cora stood at the Northwest while Derek moved to stand at the Southeast.

Chris did a final sweep of the inner circle to settle himself before getting up on the Nemeton stump with Lydia and Stiles.

Peter was back with Chris, Lydia, and Stiles—all standing together on the Nemeton stump.

Before they got started, Stiles warned, “This could trigger anyone who shift to do so during the ritual. If that occurs, howl along for your part but stay where you are, okay?”

Everyone nodded or verbally agreed.

Lydia nodded with a smiled. “Let’s get started.”

Stiles nodded, moving Chris and Peter to be opposite one another while Stiles and Lydia were opposite one another the stump.

Everyone closed their eyes for a breath before suddenly opening all of their eyes to flash their eyes if they could and the ritual started.

Stiles voice in sync with Peter, Chris, and Lydia’s commanded:

“By the fire’s suns, earth’s grassy fields,
The wind’s trills, and the water’s dribbling droplets—
By the mind and the body,
Reach out healing arms toward the lost,
Wounded soul of the Full Moon!”

Then the entire pack present echoed the last of Stiles’ words:

“By the mind and the body,
Reach out healing arms toward the lost,
Wounded soul of the son of the Full Moon!”

Everyone could feel the air growing thicker with magic, energies around them taunt with demand.

Then, Lydia, Chris, Peter, and Stiles knelt to touch both their hands palms-down to the Nemeton

Those who represented the elements lifted their arms, palms up to add their energies as well as their element to the mix.

Those who represented the liminal spaces knelt down to touch their hands to the earth, focusing their energies and the liminal energies they represented into the ritual.

All of those on those on the Nemeton focused their inner energies, inner magic into their intent while rising from where they knelt to slowly step back and off the Nemeton to surround it with their magic, presence and intention.

Lydia and Stiles said in sync:

“We beseech you! We require you!
Heal the soul of the son of the Full Moon!
Heal Isaac! Heal his body!
Heal him now!”

At the same time, Chris and Peter reached out one hand toward each other and one toward the Nemeton. Each focused his own inner energies as well as lineage of generations into their intent:

“We beseech you! We demand you!
Heal the soul of the son of the Full Moon!
Heal Isaac! Heal his mind!
Heal him now!”

While Stiles, Lydia, Peter, and Chris focused hard on their shared intent, the rest of those present began to chant aloud with growing volume:

“wake, Wake. Wake! WAKE. WAKE! WAKE!! WAKE!!!”

As they demanded Isaac to wake, the tree suddenly began to speed grow back into a full tree and all of the shifters turned to their full animal form, including Stiles and Chris who’d never shifted before. Yet, everyone did a full shift, even those previously unable to! Stiles became a coyote, and Chris became a dusty brown and gray wolf. Jackson became a wolf for the first time, and Kira shifted fully into a white fox for the first time in her life. All of them howling and yipping in unison to continue the ritual.

Levander the old gnome also appeared while the magic was growing, looking surprised.

After a while, the air around them and throughout the clearing, and especially the magic circle, began to sizzle with coiling magical energies. At the same time, a storm suddenly appeared and broke open in the sky. The sizzle caused a creepy yet intense tension to rise and rise as lighting struck the Nemeton stump with a doorway appeared to open upon the Nemeton stump in that exact spot.

Out of the blinding light within the opening, with dark hair bound up under a red hat from another era, a twenty-something woman with alabaster skin stepped through the door to stand on the stump. She wore an elaborate cream and satin-red 17th century, Hungarian gown. Seeing them, she smiled, flashing dozens of pin-prick sharp teeth “You dare to call upon me, again? Do you not understand what thou hast done, children?”

Levander knelt in response to seeing the woman arrive.

Lydia looked to the woman but stood tall rather than kneeling. “Again?”

Just reacting, Lydia just blurted out that one. She’d not expected the woman to be declaring this had happened before. Getting her brain back on course, Lydia said, “Release our pack mate and friend. I know he’s completed his journey with you, and we cannot afford to wait any longer for him to be returned.”

Levander, while still kneeling also spoke, “Things are moving faster here than expected, Countess Bathory.”

Hearing the title, Lydia asked, “Are you the true Countess Elizabeth Bathory? Or do you just wear her face? Her title?”

The woman smiled. “Oh, poor child. You know not of that which you speak.”

Then, out of the trees burst Ms. Marin Morrell. She stayed outside the circle but knelt to the woman on the stump. “I have brought you the True Alpha.”

Frowning, Lydia looked to the school counselor. “Was the past deal with you?”

The Countess smiled with too many pin prick sharp teeth. “Did you bring the Alpha or follow them here?”

“Both,” Marin said while still kneeling. “It turned out to be a different person than expected, but Gerard fouled up my efforts.”

“Efforts?” Lydia asked.

The Countess spoke, “It is for told of a True Alpha rising here.”

Marin explained. “The True Alpha was Stiles Stilinski, the coyote here. However, Gerard did things that caused the spark to be passed on to create a different Alpha.”

Growling, the Countess looked around the clearing. “Who is the Alpha that inherited that spark?”

Lydia took a step forward. “Why do you want to know?”

Keeping in her metaphoric back pocket all the emotions coursing through her, Lydia worked to focus on the present, embrace that it was real—thanks to Peter and Derek being there to prove it—and focusing on the little details alongside the big ones. Thinking over it, this all meant that even though Lydia had seen pieces of the future, this person and Ms. Morrel knew at least part of what was coming.

Shaking her head faintly, Lydia said, “Actually, better question, “Why would Marin be bringing you anyone?”

Stiles howled and yipped in support of Lydia.

It took work for Lydia to not roll her eyes.

The Countess looked Lydia up and down. “Hmmm… you’ve come closer to into your own so much younger than the few who manage to avoid madness by age eighteen.”

Stiles moved closer, growling low like a promise to be right beside Lydia.

Not even thinking about it, Lydia reached out to pet Stiles’ head and provide comfort. “And how would you know that?”

The Countess grinned much wider than any human could. “My dear, your line of fey are descendants of mine, in a way. However, your brand of madness is merely the price of power and the oh so common isolation one such as yourself can be driven to.”

Not liking the sounds of this one bit, Lydia swallowed and got on task. “Release Isaac. I know you’re done with him. He’s just in stasis at this point.”

The Countess Bathory sighed, then said, “You may rise.”

Levander and Ms. Morrel both rose from their kneeling.

After looking Lydia and the pack over, the Countess said, “And what will you give me for releasing your Isaac?”

Carefully, Levander asked, “Would them delivering Deaton to you count as payment?”

Looking to Levander, Lydia perked a brow before returning her focus to the Countess.

Frowning as she looked at Morrel, the Countess said, “Perhaps, but I want more. I will give you Isaac early in exchange for your delivering to me Alan Deaton as well as you owing me a favor.”

Frowning herself, Lydia said, “I am willing to deliver Deaton to you when I’m ready; however, this favor cannot go against my pack, allies, innocents, or preexisting agreements intents to this moment.”

The Countess grinned, seemingly pleased with the wording. “Done.”

Isaac shot up with a gasp from where he was laid on the ground at the same time as the Countess stepped back through the opening she’d emerged from.

-----------------------------------------------

Nearing Midnight…

Deaton looked at Scott’s repaired body on the lab table in the new workspace that the Surgeon and his fellow Dread Doctors had established in a large barn a bit out of town.

Although the outside was lowkey and unassuming, the inside of the barn was state of the art standards of scientific tools and devices alongside the equally necessary magical tools and devices—all in an exacting cleanliness worthy of high stakes surgery. Add in the spare parts that Theo was all too good at sourcing, and it was a magical playground for the creation of nearly anything. In many ways the inside looked akin to a hospital lab for larger projects than just blood samples.

Moving forward, Deaton trailed his fingers along one of the empty lab tables. He could only imagine all that they could do working together—he and the Dread Doctors. Soon, his visions, intentions of a pure True Alpha akin to the pure Knight of old—Galahad.

Scott—as a new man—will never know the kiss or touch of a woman and ride forth to do the right things. He will drive back the darkness! He will spare the innocent, the human-pure! He will be what the Hales never were or ever could be.

Theo burst in unexpectedly carrying a bleeding geriatric—“I found a fresh one. He’s not dead, but he needs medical care and will mess with the pack enough to throw them off for what you’ve got planned!”

Chapter Text

Once the Countess was gone, Stiles managed to shift back to human with Peter’s help. Once back to his human body, Stiles didn’t stand, but remained sitting as he spot aloud, “Nemeton, please accept our offerings of the ritual ingredients and excess magics as fuel for your future growth.”

There was an almost slurping sounds as the paints on people and herbs on the ground were all sucked down into the ground to be fed into the Nemeton’s roots.

At the same time, Derek was beside Isaac, checking him over to confirm he was indeed okay.

Lydia gently touched Stiles as she passed him to show him her support as she moved to crouch down beside Derek and Isaac. “How’re you doing?”

Isaac looked to her, tilting his head faintly. “You’re the Alpha now? Or… an Alpha now?”

Lydia smiled and hugged him gently. “We’ve missed you.”

Even though he seemed thrown off by the hug, Isaac asked softly, “What happened? I mean—”

As he was picking up Stiles from the ground, Peter interrupted, “Remember, he was last conscious here when we were fighting the witches.”

Lydia let Isaac go as she nodded. “Yeah, that was a while ago. You’ve been in a coma at the hospital, Isaac, for months.”

Isaac looked to her in shock.

Nodding, Lydia said, “I know your body was all that was there because your mind was elsewhere, but your body has been in the hospital until very recently when it was no longer safe to keep you there.”

Looking around himself, Isaac asked very timidly, “Do I have to talk about that?”

Smiling, Lydia shook her head. “No, you don’t have to talk about it.”

“Do you already know all of it?”

“No, Isaac, I don’t. however, I am not going to force you to talk about any of it. You are welcome to, but I will never force you,” Lydia explained.

Jackson then announced, “Can we get the fuck out of here already?”

Stiles giggled at that, “Chill out lizard boy, we’re going, we’re going.”

Peter rolled his eyes fondly at Stiles.

Kira moved closer to Lydia, sitting beside her while watching curiously.

Erica and Boyd were together, hugging before moving to Isaac to wrap him in a a hug between them.

Lydia pushed herself ot her feet, saying, “Come on—we’ll order out when we get back ot my house.”

Peter cleared his throat and motioned toward Marin while starring at Lydia.

With a sigh, Lydia nodded. She moved closer to Marin. “Please explain why I should not be letting Peter eat you right now?”

Marin perked a brow at the phrasing.

Lydia did not bend, staring at the druidess down without blinding.

Frowning, Marin conceded. “Look, the plan was never for things to play out like this.”

With a faint nod, Lydia asked, “Then how were they supposed to play out? Were we still supposed to be tortured just not this bad? Were people still meant to die?”

Marin didn’t bother to flinch or pretend guilt. Instead, she stood up straight, saying, “There was foretold to be a True Alpha. What caused it isn’t part of the prophecy. I would prefer there be less blood spilt, but I do not control that. The real question now is if things will play out as foretold with you as the main character or if it is still all about Stiles.”

“What is this prophecy?” Lydia asked.

Marin nodded at what acceptance there was implicit in the question. “The prophecy of a new Galahad. The trials have already started, but here is when things get more… mystical.”

Chapter Text

“What is this prophecy?” Lydia asked.

Marin nodded at what acceptance there was implicit in the question. “The prophecy of a new Galahad. The trials have already started, but here is when things get more… mystical.”

Holding back an eye roll, Peter quipped, “Well, that was helpful.”

Unruffled, Marin continued, “It is said that a True Alpha will come to be. This Alpha will be a new Galahad, preforming miracles and bringing a new age of balance in unity with the Nemeton. It was not explain who when, where, or how, but I’ve come to believe the time is now and the place is here.”

Growingly more exhausted, Stiles whined, “I hate to agree with Jackson, but can we move this conversation elsewhere? Like a place with food?”

With a sigh, Lydia nodded. Pack first. “Peter, would you take the pack home? You can get food for people there. Deucalion, Chris, and Derek, could you stay with me? We’ll deal with Marin.”

Peter nodded and began getting everyone going for the vehicles that were leaving even with a snuggly Stiles in his arms.

Deucalion, Derek, and Chris stayed but scented the pack members heading out first along with Lydia doing the same while keeping her eyes on Marin.

Once most of the pack was gone from sight even for the wolves, Lydia said, “How did you come to believe here and now was when this would all occur?”

Marin nodded in understanding as she said, “Well, first, because not only was a True Alpha created, but a human one on top of that, which could to some count as a miracle. Add on then a Banshee becoming the Alpha of a pack? Profoundly unusual. That is how I’’ve come to believe now is the time even before your returning Isaac to this plane.’

“In terms of the where? I sought out and researched Nemeton’s. Since the mystical tree network is part of the myth, I’ve been traveling and meeting with and communing with as many Nemeton’s as I can.”

Frowning and intentionally leaning into pretending to be less than she was, Lydia said, “So the trees told you?”

Marin shook her head. “No, I was looking for specific energies. The prophecy didn’t give enough detail for anyone to be sure; however, I believe and still do, that the place where the new Galahad would rise would be a very chaotic place. A nexus.”

Not showing her cards on her face or in body language, Lydia wondered if the effect of the Nogitsune being imprisoned in the roots of the Nemeton was a factor, if this even was where this all would come to be. If it even was a real prophecy to begin with.

Lydia sighed, saying, “How might we be able to contact you for further information… questions about this?”

Seemingly pleased, Marin said while handing over a card, “I am staying in the next city over. Feel free to call or text as needed. I can be back here in less than thirty.”

Frowning again, Lydia asked, “Are you hiding from your brother?”

Marin quieted before saying, “Yes. We disagreed years ago on this topic as well as what a balanced role in it would be. He believed he could guide—aka force—a werewolf to become a True Alpha, which would allow him to guide the new Galahad to true balance.”

Lydia asked, “And what did you think?”

With a hint of a smile, Marin said, “I thought that whoever the new Galahad would need help. However, I did not believe the balance would be served by trying to force a werewolf into becoming a True Alpha. I believed it had to happen naturally.’

“I will also admit, I didn’t realize it would be so violent an affair let alone so soon. I thought you’d be older, at least a few more months. However, after meeting Stiles at the high school, I did think he could be the one but let it play out however it was meant to. Deaton had that feeling about Scott after Peter had bit him, but then Deaton worked to force the teen to become a True Alpha.”

--------------------------------------------

A little over an hour later…

Lydia sat at the kitchen bar counter of her house rubbing her temples with her eyes closed, “Okay, and start at the beginning, please, Stiles.”

Visibly exhausted even as he spoke with his mouth full of the thirds or fourths of what had been ordered for him upon getting back to Lydia’s, Stiles explained again—“We’re BOTH Galahad, if either of us really are, then we both are.”

Sighing, Lydia spoke slowly, “Yes, you’ve already said that, but you’re not explaining how that could possibly be the case. I need you to understand that I didn’t, haven’t studied Arthurian legends or lore and am working on a migraine. I need you to break it down more for me, please.”

Nodding while swallowing the mouthful of fries he’d been chewing, Stiles explained, “In the story of Arthur, there were TWO Galahads. You see, Lancelot was initially named Galahad, but his name was changed when he was a child, according to the 13th century Old French story. You see, Lancelot was Galahad first and then Elaine had given their son the original name of his father long before Lancelot even knew of or met his own son.”

Peter moved closer to Stiles to be able to reach out and touch Lydia to start pulling the pain of her headache from her while still keeping Stiles steady in his seat. “Very resourceful, darling.”

Stiles shrugged. “Eh, I saw the Merlin miniseries staring Sam Niel as Merlin and went on a research binge after. Couldn’t help it. I wanted to be Merlin pretty badly. He made mistakes but aspired to better and peace for all in a sense. He was incredibly loyal and honorable.”

“Loyal and honorable?” Peter crooned. “Sounds like you’re doing pretty good on being like Merlin in that sense.”

Chewing and then swallowing a bite of his burger, Stiles shrugged. “In the stories, it’s less clear about Merlin that it was in the miniseries, plus you have all the retellings and other stuff to further muddy the waters.”

Lydia then asked, “So, who’s Lancelot and who is Galahad?”

Shrugging again before taking another bite, Stiles answered while chewing, “Doesn’t necessarily matter, to be honest. Although they both had their own flaws, the overall story was incredibly infused with religion, which I don’t think applies in our situation. For instance, no grail for Galahad to be the pure knight meant to find it.’

“But yeah, Galahad was one of the Knights of the Round Table. He was considered pure of heart in a sense. He sat in the last chair at the Round Table that was meant for the knight that would finally find the Holy Grail, and others who had tried to take that spot died. Galahad also pulled a sword from a stone liked Arther did, but a different sword than Arther who pulled Excalibur from a stone, of course. In some versions, Galahad pulled a sword from a stone that had belonged to Balin.”

Nodding to her friend’s words, Lydia added, “Perhaps we should be taking the Arthurian legends as more metaphoric in our case?”

Stiles nodded, swallowing what was in his mouth. “Probably, but I do think it could help us to look into local injustices. I mean, the legends talk about Galahad preforming miracles and banishing demons. I’m not sure we’ll be up against demons per say, but Marin did mention trials. Maybe that’ll align with the abilities Galahad had but the other knights did not. Also may be worth taking into consideration Lancelot’s roll in that he was only ever bested in a fair fight by his own son, Galahad.”

Lydia nodded, “Agreed, though to be fair, when have we ever been in a fair fight?”

Stiles released a startled giggle. “Right?!”

Sighing in relief and nodding to Peter in thanks for his help with her headache, Lydia said, “I think you’re right and we should look into local injustices. I also think we need to look into the ley lines and the state of the Nemeton. It probably wouldn’t be remiss to also investigate anything weird possibly going on locally. Not necessarily criminal, but imbalances or possible magical influences.”

Stiles took another huge bite of his burger while nodding.

Peter said, “Chris and I can start looking a little more closely into local cases as well as digging through what was ‘officially’ recovered from Gerard’s base of horrors.”

With a nod, Lydia said, “And we’ll look through more of what we took. I know we have Argent journals, lore, and bestiaries, but there was more there, stuff I think they confiscated from the creatures they captured, killed, and tortured. Gerard was big on trophies.”

“Don’t I know it,” said Deucalion as he moved into the kitchen. He set a stack of books on the bar counter a safe distance away from Stiles’ food. “Looks like we’ve stirred something up here. My connections—as sparse as they are—have noted that there are others looking into things going on in Beacon Hills.”

“Who?” Lydia asked, immediately tensing herself for this being anything from banal to horrifying.

Duke shook his head softly, “They didn’t know for sure. It was done through a series of intermediaries. However, seemed like someone or a series of someones with real power.”

“Real power?” Stiles asked after swallowing a mouthful of chewed fries. “Phrase kind of paints powers we’ve already dealt with as less than real.”

Deucalion rolled his eyes fondly, if such a thing were possible, at Stiles’ words. “Not impugning the other powerful people and creatures we’re interacted with, but power as in resources. It is simply a different kind of power that does not reflect the source per say, but certainly the resources and influence of those seeking information.”

While chewing another bite of burger, Stiles nodded. “Just checking. The fey see to be all over these days, and I doubt they much like being implied as anything less than real by those who’ve interacted with them.”

Peter grumbled softly, “We know, darling. Now, can you finish chewing and ideally your food overall before contributing? We’re not exactly dying to see you process food.”

Lydia released a surprised giggle at Peter’s words.

Shaking her head at herself, Lydia said, “I’ll get people on looking through the stuff we recovered and reaching out to contacts where applicable. Please, Peter, see what your contacts know but do not leave a trail for this mysterious other/others looking into our area. We don’t need more trouble right now—”

“Or ever,” Stiles tagged on after swallowing what was in his mouth.

--------------------------------------------

The next morning at the station…

Peter lifted another thick file from his already burgeoning desk to look through the contents of it.

Deputy Michaelson walked by the desk, saying, “Whoa, someone in trouble, Hale?”
With a sigh, Peter said, “Hard to say.”

Leaning a touch on Peter’s desk, Michaelson explained, “I mean, you ruffle the sheriff’s feather to be sorting through this mess? It’s never a good sign to have to be going through the petty crime records of the month. That’s usually low man on the totem pole type work, or someone being in trouble, and you are not the low man on the totem pole even with being on the newer end.”

Huffing a laugh, Peter shook his head, “Not so much in trouble as had a good idea that is bitting me in the behind.”

“Huh,” Michaelson said. “It is always the good ones that get you. Need some help?”

Peter flashed a killer smile, “Sure.”

Pulling up a seat to sit beside Peter’s desk, Deputy Michaelson grabbed afile, asking, “What’re we looking for?”

“Patterns in petty crime as well as looking for unusual symbols painted/found at places, Peter explained. “I think there may be a new gang or two in town that could explain the uptick in petty crime and even could tie back to some of the past ‘supposed’ animal attacks. I just… I noticed a trend looking at some older cases a bit back, before the abduction of Stiles, the Sheriff’s son.”

Michaelson nodded solemnly as he asked carefully, “Thinking it may go back as far as what happened to your niece?”

Sighing with sadness he did not have to fake, Peter said, “Maybe? I just… with my family’s house being burned down and losing my niece… it just… I feel like there is a pattern if only I can find it. Add on the assault on the Sheriff’s house twice and my nephew’s loft? I just do not think any of this is random.”

Deputy Michaelson nodded before getting to work as he said, “Well, we’re a family here and we’ll help figure this all out.”

Just then, Deputy Chris Argent came over with another box of files. “I see you’ve recruited someone to help?”

Deputy Michaelson chuckled. “Volunteered.”

Peter nodded, perking a brow at Chris. “We could use the help.”

Chris nodded as he set the box on the side of Peter’s desk before pulling up a chair to sit and dig in himself.

A little while later and not even a dent made in the small portion of files at Peter’s desk, Sheriff Stilinski came by the desk, asking, “How’s it going?”

Peter set aside what he was looking through right now. He then pulled out some pictures from a different file that had been set aside to show the sheriff. “These pictures may support my theory of a possible gang. You can see a series of spirals.”

Noah looked at the photos, nodding to Peter’s words and asking, “How many of these have you found so far?”

Knowing the Sheriff knew about Peter easily doing just under a dozen of them himself after the fire, Peter said, “About twenty-four so far of ones like that.”

Noah’s eyes went big—that meant more than just Peter had done so. That was a problem. “Do you have a timeline on these?”

Shaking his head, Peter explained, “Not yet. We’re still trying to make sure we find them all before sorting out a timeline as well as we’ve found some other marks that might repeat as well that we’re tryign to assess and acculate to make a timeline on as well.”

Noah nodded. “Sounds good. I think I might assign one of two more people to help with this as it’s much bigger than I was expecting. Good work Deputies, and especially you, Deputy Hale. I’m glad we may be able to put some of these cases to rest. It’s about time we get some answers for the families if this ties to some of the unsolved crimes, let alone possible murders in town.”

Peter nodded, and said, “Maybe Deputy Reid would be a good fit, if I may say so?”

Nodding, Sheriff Stilinski left the desk and moved to his office.

Shortly thereafter, Deputy Tara Reid came up to Peter’s desk, asking, “How can I help?”

--------------------------------------------

At the Martin’s house…

In the kitchen, part of the pack was working on lunch with Stiles sitting on a stool at the bar counter to supervise, cut, and stir stuff.

Stiles had Alice making a batch of black rice as well as pan frying some quinoa.

At the same time, the old man was stir-frying vegetables. The old man that had been recovered from Gerard’s base had shared that they could call him Spence. It wasn’t his real name, but he didn’t feel safe enough to share that information at this time.

Aiden was just outside grilling on the porch connected to the side of the kitchen. He had whole pork roast and beef flank steaks going that had been marinated over the previous night.

Ethan was running things back and forth from the grill and kitchen and making flatbread while making sure Stiles stayed sitting.

In the meantime, Stiles was cutting up more veggies on the bar counter as well as some fruit. He was trying to make lunch for everyone at the house and for those who were at the station today. However, to obey the expectations of others, Stiles had to ‘rest,’ doing so for him to continue healing and recouping his magic.

Melissa wasn’t working under her swing shift later so could have lunch with the pack before going along with Derek and Deucalion.

-

In the dining room, the table was covered in books and papers that had been taken from Gerard’s base where he’d kept Lydia, Stiles, and others.

Lydia, Derek, and Deucalion sat at the table along with Jackson.

Looking through what from the outside looked like a possible beastiary, Lydia murmured, “Hmm… from the looks of some of this, we may have even more supernatural creatures running around than we realize.”

Jackson groaned, but otherwise kept to himself while reading through and sorting papers.

Deucalion said, “Of course. A Nemeton draws a wide range of things to it, let alone one as ill-treated as the one in the preserve. Additionally, there is not telling what the effects of our magically feeding the tree will be in the long run.”

Looking anxious with remembered trauma, Derek sighed, “Can we talk about something other than the Nemeton?”

Lydia nodded, saying, “Of course, but I do think we may need to start doing more in the preserve to investigate who all is there as well as what we may want to do to appease things there, including the Nemeton.”

After flipping through a few more pages, Lydia added, “We may also want to start leaving out honey and such to encourage friendliness towards us in even half of this is still in the preserve.”

Deucalion nodded, asking, “Are you thinking the preserve is overrun with fey?”

With a shrug, Lydia admitted, “I don’t really know but with the Countess Bathory fey and the other fey we’ve dealt with so far as well as things with Isaac? I feel like we should ere on the side of caution on that front.”

Derek noted, “There so far is no mention of the prophecy Marin had mentioned.”

Lydia nodded, “True, but there may be other answers here. Not necessarily information knowingly connected, but who knows, maybe there’s magical sword mentioned or some maiden in need of rescuing?”

“Grasping at straws, my dear?” Duke asked.

Shrugging, Lydia admitted, “Not quite, but close. I’m really not entirely sure what we’re looking for exactly, but I’m hoping something will metaphorically jump out at us. Who knows, maybe Stiles will have a strange vision like he did before the witches in the preserve or even something is found at the Sheriff’s station.”

Derek nodded, “Well, if it helps, I’m probably more lost than you beyond perhaps knowing that Gerard’s preferred method for killing creatures as well as desecrating a corpse was cutting them in half with a sword.”

-

In the living room, Cora was laid out on one of the couches with a few hatchlings laid out upon her napping while she pet who she could reach from her position.

The father dragon was laid out on the floor with the rest of the hatchlings—all napping. It had been a long night of nightmares for the dragons.

The recovered baby was at the hospital with Melissa and Kira right now to get some DNA testing and to check if there were any needed vaccinations for the child they’d all started calling Izzy, like the intern turned doctor on Grey’s Anatomy.

At the same time, the fox kit was cuddled with the dragons to nap as well.

Even though she couldn’t really nap right now, Cora had taken on being the nap guard. She helped the dragon father feel better about his babe and he resting. Plus, it allowed her to watch over the young while others dealt with the cruelties of reality she was beyond tired of. However, exhaustion didn’t make it all go away, so here she was with classical music playing low on the tv, since that was supposed to be good for babies, while guarding the young.

Oddly, Isaac was splayed out with the dragons and the fox kit, napping as well.

Cora didn’t fully know his story but knew enough that he probably should nap a few years himself after everything. Honestly, she felt like she’d earned that right too, but didn’t dare. Getting too deep into what anyone deserved was a great way for her to go the way of her uncle in terms of how he’d apparently went on a murder spree once he’d awoken from his coma of six years.

Running a hand through her hair, Cora tried to focus on what she could do. No longer in a pack run by a human but now one that was led by a Banshee, Cora felt like she had to be careful where her mind wandered. She wasn’t a risk to the pack, at least not in terms of hurting the pack, but it was really hard far too often to not just let loose and go on her own killing spree, carving justice in a bloody swath or all the pain and torture this place rendered from herself, her family, and others. When would it all be enough?

--------------------------------------------

In their surgically sterile and magically enhanced lab, Deaton looked around at what all they had been gathering.

At the far side of the lab, Gerard Argent’s body lay on lab table hooked up to an IV as well as a few machines, including one that breathed for him. Near him was another table of animal bones and a bear pelt: all glowing faintly due to the magical herb paste painted on them.

A bit away from Gerard’s body was another body with reptilian skin missing both arms from the elbow down. With multiple suture lines all over the body.

Theo’s body with the chest cut open on the lab table closest to the one bearing Scott whose was in the center of the room.

The Surgeon was standing between the two lab tables, slowly removing Theo’s heart and then his sister’s to sew into Scott. The teen would need the increased blood flow and magic to survive what was coming for him next.

Deaton stood on the other side of Scott, saying, “Is he not the perfect specimen for this?”

The Surgeon nodded, the mechanical mask over his face digitizing his voice as he said, “Very true. It takes the turning of one pure to create my masterpiece, my love.”

Nodding, Deaton said, “And then he will be the prophesized leader he was meant to be.”

Chapter Text

After work, having returned to the Martin residence, Christopher opened the front door to let Peter in who was carrying one evidence file box with another on top.

Both men were in full uniform still rather than changing at the station as they sometimes did.

Coming in behind Peter, Noah was carrying a grocery bag nearly bursting with candy in one hand and a 24 pack of energy drinks in his other. He looked quite tired but not in a sleepy way but rather the weight of knowledge.

Peter carried the evidence file boxes through the kitchen to get into the dining room. He put both boxes on an empty chair at the table.

Lydia looked to Peter and what he’d brought and then Noah and Chris behind him.

Having heard them coming in, Stiles walked into the dinning room from one of the living rooms. “Oh my, three wise men, whatsoever gifts do you bring?”

Peter rolled his eyes, but said anyways, “I brought evidence of some bigger things happening than we realized.”

Stiles perked a brow as he moved to get into the top box.

“The top one has photocopies of photos and reports that go with them. Among other things, vengeance spirals have been popping up all over for a while now,” Peter explained. “The top box is almost all stuff connected to vengeance spirals and possible hunter activity. The bottom is a bit more hunter activity and what I think may be supernatural things going on in town that have escalated.”

Lydia looked at what Stiles was doing before returning her eyes to Peter, saying, “I assume that you’re not the only source of spirals?”

Nodding, Peter said, “I’ve included those in the files at the station but didn’t bring those home this time. We at least have some answers about my spirals, but there are too many here for just one person regardless of the ones I know I did.”

Deucalion stood, moving to help Stiles pull some of the files out. “Do you have ideas about it?”

Chris spoke then, saying, “Well, the Argents have been in Beacon Hills on and off for decades, which could explain some of them, but this seems like a lot for that with Gerard not tending to leave survivors if he can help it.”

Peter nodded. “Agreed. It’s part of what has me a bit stumped when it comes to the spirals. However, some of the other things we have found so far are starting to add up into a larger picture of the supernatural in and around town, including some mischief that has been attributed to kids and teenagers but may actually be fey and more. Seems we live in a proper hot bed of things happening right under our noses.”

Chris agreed, saying, “Peter’s really found some great stuff. He’s even got a few other deputies helping us try to connect the dots and find patterns. May even lead to settling a few murder cases if we do this right.”

Stiles furrowed his brows before even Derek could.

However, Lydia spoke first, “Is this going to affect Noah … I mean, Sheriff Stilinski being investigated?”

Peter admitted, “Honestly? I’m not sure. I do know that things have slowed some on that front as the lead agent—Agent McCall—recently lost a family member and it has slowed that down but also made it more dangerous since McCall is Scott’s dad.”

Lydia took a breath before saying, “Well, we’ve hit a bit of stuff here. Although not anything that would necessarily lead to a spike in the revenge spirals, there’s a lot of documentation implying that the supernatural in the area has been escalating for a while. Seems it is part of why Gerard has been in and out of town for decades.”

Stiles nodded, speaking while pulling stuff out of the top file box, “Yeah, like the weird bird cull hunt Gerard led almost a decade ago and documented in painstaking detail the colors and patterning on the birds. I actually cross referenced the details he provided against a couple of bird watching groups in the area. Turns out that said year there was a record number of rare and colorful bird species for a few months before the cull occurred.”

Chris furrowed his brows. “What’re you thinking?”

“Fey,” Stiles answered. “Not sure that they were actually fey, but I believe that’s what Gerard believed to be occurring based on the weaponry he wrote that he used.”

Peter growled low, but didn’t say any words. He just moved to the refrigerator to grab himself a drink.

Noah sighed, saying, “Does this mean this could be tied to the long game of the Countess woman you made a deal with?”

Lydia acknowledged, “If Gerard was right about the birds being fey, his coordinator bird massacre couldn’t drawn her attention to our area.”

Running a hand through his hair, Noah shook his head before moving to leave the room. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

Chris asked, “Was he able to confirm what he thought was going on?”

Lydia shrugs, “If he did, we’ve not found the records about it yet. There’s a lot to go through though. For someone who kept strict documentation, he was not the greatest organizer. I think he treated it like a lesson book for those who came after perhaps or maybe even a bit of a brag? It’s hard to say based on what we’ve gone through so far.”

Jackson came into the room, nodding, “It’s an overwhelming read. He even documents some other hunters as well as some animal migrations. He really comes across intensely paranoid the deeper you go.”

Taking a seat at the table, Chris released a sigh that sounded bone deep. “He was a very intense man. Gerard’s stances on nonhuman entities and their human allies was resolute and without mercy. Hatred and riding the world of the impure was a mission honorable and one duty bound for those who valued humankind, from his perspective. Even if he wasn’t terribly kind to his fellow humans, even those who were with him in the fight he saw as his calling.”

Frowning, Lydia said softly as she laid her hand over his, “I’m so sorry you had to grow up dealing with him.”

Shrugging, Chris said, “It is what it is. You can’t take back the past. All I can do is keep moving.”

Stiles frowned too, adding on, “True, but it’s important to remember that there are good things worth moving forward for.”

Deucalion huffed. “It’s not always as clear cut as that for all of us.”

Rolling his eyes, Stiles said, “When is anything ever clear cut here? I’m just saying that there’s reason to keep moving beyond just doing so for the sake of it. Life is more than just surviving for the sake of surviving.”

Jackson shrugged. “It’s a place to start for some maybe.”

Peter returned to the room. “Sometimes surviving for the sake of it is all there is. But that surviving is a form of hope when you look at it from the outside. I can look back and see that I fought to survive as I believed I could avenge all of though taken before their time. Not a happy reason necessarily, but I’m here still as a result of it.”

Stiles sighed. “You’re not a good example, Peter. You died for that style of surviving.”

Smirking, Peter said, “You would know all about that one, wouldn’t you darling?”

Lydia groaned, “Can we get through some research and information sharing without you two flirting or talking about murder?”

As one of his eyes went Nogitsune black, Stiles’ mouth released their smoker’s cough voice blended with Stiles’—“Is it the murder that’s an issue or the flirting?”

Lydia sighed, and then she said, “It’s doing both at the same time. I’m fighting a headache and thinking about all of that while listening to whatever weird foreplay you guys get from this is a lot right now.”

Peter frowned and moved closer to Lydia, gently touching her wrist. He pulled some of her pain to help.

Smiling softly, Lydia looked at Peter. “Thank you.”

Cora came into the room holding a thick journal, asking, “Chris, do you know what the Beast of Gevaudan is?”

Lydia’s eyes rolled back in her head as she fell off her seat and began babbling: “He comes, he comes…. Only the pure perverted…. True…. Love? Cannibalize…. Let them burn, I need the heart… can raise a demon… a fox cannot be a wolf… whisper, whisper… only the pure… darkness in soul with red third eye… screaming, trapped… generations denied…”

------------------------------------------

In their surgically sterile and magically enhanced lab, Deaton watched as Scott’s eyes opened.

The teen, with more hearts, new arms, and more enhancements, looked confused and overwhelmed as he looked around with his eyes but didn’t move. It didn’t hurt that he couldn’t as he had been temporarily paralyzed with Kanima venom for his first time being brought to consciousness. All he could really use were his eyes and his mouth though the teen so far stuck to his eyes.

Alan Deaton moved closer to make sure he was in Scott’s line of sight. “I’m so glad you’ve woken! I have managed to save your life.”

Still looking around, Scott managed slowly to ask, “Allison?”

“Yes,” Deaton answered. “We saved her too. Anything can be undone—it is the first of your miracles… you saved her, really.”

Still looking confused, Scott found himself wondering what in the world was going on really. His last memories were of losing control, flashes of killing Allison horribly, and then killing himself as punishment for what he’d done. How could he be back? What he did was beyond unspeakable to his waking mind! Shouldn’t he be… well, at least not here, wherever here was.

Chapter Text

In a seemingly surgically sterile area, Scott slowly opened his eyes to see Deaton near him, staring. Hearing multiple heartbeats, Scott wondered who all was there.

Deaton moved closer. “I’m so glad you’ve woken! I have managed to save your life.”

Looking around, Scott managed slowly to ask, “Allison?”

“Yes,” Deaton answered. “We saved her too. Anything can be undone—it is the first of your miracles… you saved her, really.”

Confused, Scott found himself wondering what in the world was going on really. His last memories were of losing control, flashes of killing Allison horribly, and Scott just could not see why he was there. Why could he be there? Did Deaton know Gerard? Stiles wouldn’t bring Scott here. Even though everyone thought Scott was dumb, he did manage to know that Stiles didn’t like Deaton. Wouldn’t Stiles take him to the hospital?

How would Stiles do that though? He was taken too… they were… closing his eyes tightly even as a shiver ran through him, remembering Stiles’ screaming. Scott could hear it like it was all happening right now, even though Scott was fairly certain that was not happening here right now. His eyes shooting open, Scott confirmed that it wasn’t happening right now with a genuine sense of relief.

It was so hard for Scott to not just sob remembering Stiles’ screaming. Scott had wanted to save him, to make this right. It was Scott’s fault they were all taken after all, wasn’t it? What a great leader he’d turned out to be. Was Stiles even alive? Did he want to be?

Gerard had told Scott everything he’d wanted to hear about how Allison loved him, and it was Chris keeping her away, but how could that be true? Scott had destroyed her. Was that love? Of course not! If he truly loved her, he should’ve been unable to do that to her whether he was human or not. It made Scott think of when his dad laid hands on his mom. That wasn’t love. How could Scott be like his dad?!

Fighting back his tears, remembering hearing Stiles screams and taunts trying to take the punishment to keep their captors busy and away from the rest of them. Why hadn’t Scott thought of that? Why hadn’t he tried to save the others? He’d been why they were caught in the first place…

Forcing himself to not drown in what he was realizing second to second were more wrongs than he could name now, Scott tried to focus on right now. He had to. If Stiles could fight for them all, then Scott should too. He couldn’t refuse the responsibility this time. He couldn’t blame someone else, not for his own choices, actions… failings.

More on task, Scott questioned why would Deaton claim credit for saving him if Scott was in the hospital? Deaton was a vet. Maybe he was secretly helping? But how?

Then, Scott remembered killing himself as punishment for what he’d done. How could he be back? What he did was beyond unspeakable to his waking mind! Shouldn’t he be… well, at least not here, wherever here was. That meant Scott was not at the hospital! Hospitals do not bring people back to life.

Why was Deaton sounding so pleased? Who could be happy about a murderer like Scott? He killed his true love! Or at least who he’d mistakenly believed to be his true love. Who was to say he even knew what love actually was? He murdered her in cold blood! He was out though—was Stiles okay? Lydia?

After swallowing hard with his dry mouth, Scott croaked, “Stiles? Lydia?”

How was Scott even here? How did he get out? Was he even out?!

------------------------------------------

The Martin residence…

Cora came into the room holding a thick journal, asking, “Chris, do you know what the Beast of Gevaudan is?”

Lydia’s eyes rolled back in her head as she fell off her seat and began babbling while seizing: “He comes, he comes…. Only the pure perverted…. True…. Love? Cannibalize…. Let them burn, I need the heart… can raise a demon… a fox cannot be a wolf… whisper, whisper… only the pure… darkness in soul with red third eye… screaming, trapped… generations denied…”

Peter fell speechless as Lydia spoke.

Stiles had begun quickly writing everything Lydia said while the Nogitsune came forth more fully. “Someone roll her to her side in case she vomits!”

Seeing the signs differently than the Demon Fox, Peter charged forward and knocked everyone who came to Lydia’s aid back before the Banshee let loose a shrill, heart-rending Banshee scream as tears flowed from her eyes that stared up at the ceiling her scream had dented.

Once the scream was through, Peter threw himself over her just in time to shield her from part of the ceiling coming down in response the damage of the Banshee’s scream.

Stiles slid off his chair to come closer to Lydia who had leaned up and wrapped her arms around Peter as she sobbed into him.

Tentatively, Stiles joined the hug, murmuring, “It’s going to be okay.”

Lydia shook her head. “You don’t understand. I had a vision… a vision of me killing Allison, cutting out her heart even.”

Peter rubbed her back softly. “That can’t happen. She’s gone.”

Looking up to him tearfully, Lydia whimpered, “It was so real… she wanted me to, like it was mercy.”

Pulling Lydia closer to him and holding her securely, Peter said, “Cora… take Chris into the other room and talk about this beast you mentioned. Take Stiles’ notes on what Lydia said as well to see if they’re connected or coincidence. Derek, Mrs. Whitmore, could you help as well?”

Mrs. Whitmore nodded, “Come on, Derek. Let’s go look into this and give them a minute.”

Derek’s brows furrowed into his eyes, but he did as asked just like Cora and the others Peter had asked to step out essentially.

Jackson and Danny moved closer to Lydia where Peter held her with Stiles.

Looking to Peter, Jackson held open his arms.

Peter nodded and gently nudged Stiles before transferring Lydia into Jackson’s arms.

Lydia borrowed softly into Jackson as she continued to cry.

Once Lydia was settled into Jackson, Danny and Stiles both joined the hug to hold her close, safe.

Stiles murmured, “We’re going to figure this out.”

------------------------------------------

Peter got up, once he was sure Lydia had the comfort she needed, and left the room. He moved to where he heard Chris and the others were. Once into the room, Peter nodded to Derek, asking, “Can you keep an eye on Lydia? Your and my presence help solidify this is real, and she needs the right now.”

Without argument, Derek nodded and left the room.

It was left unsaid that Peter regretted sending Derek out when he should’ve kept him in the room for Lydia. Although not ‘the’ Alpha, Peter knew he was the Right Hand and needed to follow that role, not the Left Hand path he’d been on for so long.

After a deep breath, Peter looked to Cora, asking, “What did you find?”

Cora shrugged, saying, “A lot of vague references to what sounds like a wolf dog. The name Valet comes up and a reference to the Beast of Gevaudan. It’s pretty vague, and there’s evidence that some of the information has been scratched out like they didn’t want all the details to be passed on.”

Chris carefully took the book from her, checking some of the details on it before saying, “It’s the tale of Marie-Jeanne Valet. This isn’t the best copy of it. This is from one of Gerard’s books. I have a better one. Alli—she digitalized the version I have. Mine is from my mother. The story is of how Sebastion Valet became a werewolf. He’d drank water from a wolf’s paw on the full moon, which turned him. But more importantly, the story is about the rise of Marie-Jeanne Valet, the Maid of Gevaudan.’

“Sebastion became a massive beast that cut swaths of victims through the French countryside. Marie became known as the Maid of Gevaudan for fighting, and ultimately killing him. She, with Henri Argent’s help, killed her brother and is a direct ancestor to us. It is said that Allison… that Allison looks a lot like her. I even have some old sketches it is said that Henri Argent did of her after they were married. But, regardless, in the tale there was also an accomplice to Sebastion. Where Sebastion had no remorse, this other person is said to have loved Sebastion, expressing that unrequited love by hiding bodies and covering for the Beast.”

Peter frowned, “I assume this Marie killed the accomplice?”

Chris shook his head. “No. It is said that while she found him, the accomplice managed to escape justice to never be seen or heard from again, having exiled himself after Sebastion was killed.”

Nodding, Peter asked, “How much of this is fact versus legend?”

With a shrug, Chris said, “It’s taken as true in our family. We’ve kept records for centuries. Marie-Jeanne burned her own journals when Henri died with his body, but Henri’s journals survived, supposedly.”

“Supposedly?” Peter said.

Chris explained, “My mother had them, among other journals. In addition to being the Matriarch, my mother was her generations history keeper. Gerard took ownership of it all when she died. Although he too documented, journaled, he hide the journals away from Kate and I more often than he shared. Neither of us ever saw my mother’s journals though I know she kept one. Gerard always played it like she had never journaled a day in her life. However, I’ve always suspected he’d burned them to cover up things he had done.”

Peter sighed. “Does anything Lydia said in her fugue state align with what you know of the beast?”

Chris admitted, “I’m not sure? The role of the heart could be important, connected. It is said that the accomplices’ love was unrequited, but without Marie-Jeanne’s journal or even Sebastion’s? It’s hearsay.”

Noah came into the room, running a hand through his hair. “I feel like I missed something.”

Peter chuffed. “To say the least. Well, Lydia’s vision about having to take out Allison’s heart could connect to the heart part of what she said as well.”

Chris nodded.

After taking a breath, Peter looked at Noah, saying, “Cora brought up a beast from the research in Gerard’s files and Lydia dropped to the ground seizing and spouted words until she Banshee screamed at the ceiling.”

Noah sighed, “Well, this is a lovely topper to the call I just got.”

“Call?” Peter and Chris asked in sync.

Not bothering to comment on that, Noah nodded as he said, “Yeah, there’ve been a few animal attacks. Tara called to let me know I needed to come in early tomorrow. You two probably should too.”

Peter sighed. “Okay.”

Chris then motioned to the paper Cora had where Stiles had written down what Lydia had said. “Do we know anything else that could connect to what she’d said?”

Nodding, Peter said, “Before he had turned, Stiles was quite determined that he wouldn’t be a wolf since a fox cannot be a wolf. He was following his ‘things in threes’ logic, him calling out to two foxes—the Nogitsune and Kira—with him being the third fox.”

Frowning, Chris asked, “But how does that work with his shifting into a coyote rather than a fox?”

Peter shrugged. “Stiles probably logic’d his will into it. Coyotes and foxes are tricksters, and we all know how clever Stiles can be.”

Noah nodded. “Leave it to my son to find a way.”

Cora then cautiously asked, “Could the pure heart thing connect to Allison?”

Peter looked at his niece. “Maybe? The wording is vague enough it could mean and or apply to a range of things. More concerning to me is that something is coming as well as raising a demon and a third red eye. However, right this moment, there is a limit to what we can do.”

Stiles joined them all in the room in time to hear Peter, asking, “That mean it’s research o’clock?”

Nodding, Peter pulled Stiles close, wanting his mate right there. It was both comforting to his wolf and his own mind. “Yeah, we’re going to continue researching and looking through the stuff from Gerard’s base.”

Stiles went along willingly and curled into Peter. “I was thinking… with what Lydia said when she was seizing, could it be connected to Allison and Scott’s missing bodies?”

Frowning, Peter said, “I hope not, but we do need to keep that in mind.”

What Peter left out was his concerns not only with how the missing bodies may or may not be connected, but also with Lydia having seen herself having to kill Allison. This was not a great situation, but he needed to not make assumptions. There was too much unknown.

------------------------------------------

The next morning…

Not getting to go into the station early but rather straight to a crime scene at the edge of the preserve nearest the outskirts of Beacon Hills, Noah drove lead in the sheriff’s vehicle to the scene.

Behind Noah, Chris drove him and Peter in the hunter’s old truck.

Once out of their respective vehicles, Peter and Chris went straight to where the bodies had been found while Noah check in with Tara who seemed to be running the scene.

Peter knelt down by where some photographs had been placed of the victims where the bodies had been found. After putting on gloves, Peter touched the ground around the bodies before requesting, “Can I get an evidence bag?”

One of the crime scene tech that’d been called in from Beacon City rushed over to photograph where the item was found and provide a bag for it.

Peter didn’t say it out loud, but it was bear claw. That was not a good sigh. After the scene tech had walked away with the camera and filled evidence bag, Peter waved over Chris. Once the once hunter was closer, Peter whispered so low only a shift right beside him like Chris could hear, “See the marks… it’s bear.”

Chris frowned hard, aware he had the history to notice and identify as an known game hunter in a way that would not be as suspicious as Peter recognizing the marks. Standing up a little taller, Chris said, “Did anyone document the bear tracks here?”

Noah came over at that along with Deputy Parrish. “Bear?”

Nodding, Chris knelt down and pointed at the details of the mark. “A big one at that. I think it’s got to be a Grizzly bear. There’s probably more tracks if we’ve not muddied the trail too bad walking around.”

Peter looked around them some, without walking or making further tracks. He noticed, but he didn’t mention just how chaotic the tracks were. It was almost like a small herd of bears rampaging. Looking at the photographs laid out, Peter couldn’t deny the attack had been brutal, literally ripping apart three people into something unrecognizable scattered around.

------------------------------------------

In an undisclosed location on the outskirts of Beacon County…

Although it was troublesome to keep Gerard away from some of their other projects, Deaton had agreed with Theo that this would be worth it. Deaton had managed to treat Gerard’s body double that had been a stand in within a nursing home for people to ‘know’ where Gerard was.

However, with the true Gerard gone, Deaton could see the use of using the body double as a stand in to sew discord, especially with the body double being in the know as well as having tried to get the bit to prolong his own life.

Like the original, the body double had also rejected the bite as well as had been attacked. Theo bringing him in was just in time to save the old man and encourage the idea of his cooperation.

Deaton sat at the double’s bedside, saying, “Would it be okay with you for me to simply refer to you as Gerard Argent?”

Nodding, the man grinned. “Why not? I’ve tried to lay my hands on his financials as though I were the real thing—why not fully commit? Now, the real question is, why am I here? Why save me?”

Smiling himself, Deaton said, “Well, I have something you want… a way for you to receive the bite without rejecting it. As well, you have something I want.”

“And that is?”

“Your face, connections… you could sew chaos to throw people off what we’re doing here. We’re making a better, controlled wolf. His bite, once he’s complete, will surely change you. He will be loyal to us, and a dangerous monster to all others, including the rest of the supernatural,” Deaton explained.

Intentionally leaving out context, Deaton hoped to capitalize on the desire for forever.

Gerard said smoothly, “I know you’re trying to play me.”

Deaton shrugged. “Are you saying you won’t try to play me back?”

Chapter Text

The body double, officially known now as Gerard Argent, made his way to one of the hunter bases he knew about. While he didn’t know everything that the original did, this Gerard knew at least enough to gather others. It was time to show his face as soon as he could, with back up.

Knowing the true hunter was vindictive and would seek out previous victims, Gerard wanted to make a splash that would not be easily forgotten. If nothing else, inciting some terror was beyond overdue with Gerard again around!

Perhaps he should go at things sideways? Instead of chasing down the human Alpha the supposed Druid had told him about as an ideal victim, as someone Gerard wanted gone, this Gerard decided to go after the unexpected. Hit them sideways where they’re not expecting quite what he brings to the situation. Maybe even give it some flare?

Gerard needed to see what resources and manpower the original Gerard had left behind.

-----------------------------------------

About thirty minutes later…

While Noah, Chris, and Peter were off to work as well as after breakfast, Lydia was sitting in the dining room with Stiles and Cora, looking through the books they’d retrieved from Gerard’s base.

While Cora had found the mentions of the Beast of Gevaudan and Chris had added some to what they knew, Stiles had elected himself to the job of focusing primarily on the Beast and anything about the Valet family he could find.

Lydia was looking for other mentions in the books and papers they’d retried from Gerard’s base.

Cora was bouncing between the two as both a helper and to bounce ideas off while looking through some books from the Hale vault that had been brought over earlier this morning by Deuc, Mel, and Derek before they all went to the hospital for Mel’s early shift.

Although not immediately finding tons just yet, Cora didn’t hesitate to dig in more.

Stiles had a pen in his mouth as he was digging through whatever he could find online or in his own growing book collection while cross referencing with the Argent Beastiary as well as lived experience thus far.

It didn’t take too long for Stiles to find himself in a spiral. There was a surprising amount of stuff online about the myth of the Beast of Gevaudan, La Bête du Gévaudan. It turned out that the ‘secret’ wasn’t wholly a secret.

Then again, with approximately 210 attacks, how could one fully hide that? Peter had gone mad and cut through at least half a dozen people in Beacon Hills, and it had not gone unnoticed.

However, with so many in the Kingdom of France hunting the beast, it’s pretty impressive that no one ever caught or confirmed the creature or what it was. That made some sense with the range of animals it could’ve been based on descriptions, but still. That was a LOT of attacks for little answers despite supposed witness and even some surviving victims.

Then, Stiles realized that it was completely possible that it could’ve been a mixed breed like with dogs and other animal possibly? Also, with the origin that Chris gave, could the Beast have actually turned some of those people? Would there be descendants? Could Stiles find them?

However, Stiles paused at that. If there were others out there, would him finding them put them in danger? Stiles feared that being the case. It was part of why he was hesitating to track down people written on him. Taking a shaky breath, Stiles tried to re-focus on looking into the Beast of Gevaudan. This was no time to panic.

Forcing himself to continue without letting his mind wander too far away, Stiles found that the first recorded attack was in 1764. Though it was not a fatal attack by any means, it was the first recorded. If this beast was real, then there was a good chance this wasn’t the first attack. Just the first attack recorded. Was this timeline online something that would align with what the Argent’s documents had?

Stiles doubted anything could line up perfectly, especially if for some reason the creature had been slayed in secret. False reports were likely harder to deny if you didn’t tell anyone that the creature was dead. However, there was the risk of there being more than one.

Even though he knew Chris would probably say it was unlikely, Stiles kept in the back of his mind the potential for there to be more than one. July first, the same year as the first documented attack, there was another report, btu this time the victim was killed. Even what documentation Stiles had found so far alluded to it being the first reported, recorded as due to the Beast that there were likely others.

The first victim being only fourteen cut deep for Stiles, but he knew he had to keep going. If there’d not been justice done for her and the other victims, Stiles knew he’d consider it his business to get the long overdue justice.

After looking around online for quite a while, Stiles found a site entirely in French. Stiles picked up a book he had on French as he came to site in French on the further stories of the Beast. The site was certainly an interesting source that talked not just about the myth but also on the theory that the creature was not one of nature, but an abomination that had to be made as no true creature could exist without man perverting the natural order.

-

Lydia was flipping through some of the loose papers from Gerard’s base when she came across an unfamiliar term. Well, the term abomination was not an unfamiliar term, but its usage was concerning and unexpected. Starting back at the start of the stack, Lydia paid closer attention to the odd sketches of random body parts. It looked just like random sketches on the side of a page.

The page mostly talked about evolution and specification of species as well as variations. The part that caught Lydia most concerningly was that this was not formatted as a scientific source but as some kind of notes. The focus was on evolutionary developmental deviations, essentially different development from normal and or expected patterns.

Reading through the notes that ere growingly a mix between a rant and a developing question of how one could engineer alternate development in a species, like a dog. It wasn’t a huge jump for Lydia to worry this was for implementation on supernatural creature. Not just Werewolves, which could be a natural jump from dogs even though no Werewolf would probably accept that reference, but also to other creatures like dragons all the way to humans or anything else really.

Lydia started noting that on some—though not all—of the pages for small sketches that she growingly recognized as crude representations of human as well as animal joints and even some organs. Even though she kind of wanted to vomit, Lydia kept it down to keep reading through. However, the notes on this topic came to an abrupt end as though there was more that was separated from this stack.

Frowning, Lydia clipped the pages she had together and set them partially under her laptop that she wasn’t using. She then stood up and started looking through some of the other papers, trying to find more on the topic. She came across a page that made her want to growl despite not being a wolf of any kind. It was a page of sketches about adding pieces into a human child’s body. On the back of the page was just one word: Chimera.

Setting that page with the others she had clipped, Lydia began looking with more passion. This just vibrated through her as important. She didn’t know why it was important, but something in her was reverberating with a call to find more information about this. It was important. She didn’t understand why, but somehow, she knew it was. After looking for another twenty minutes, not really paying attention to the others, Lydia seemed to come up with nothing more. She looked up to see both Cora and Stiles looking at her.

Stiles asked carefully, “Are you okay?”

Not trusting her voice, Lydia nodded yes as she tried to reign in her breathing that she only just realized had turned to full on panting like she’d been running for her life. Swallowing hard, Lydia gathered herself up some before saying, “We need to be looking into Chimeras as well.”

Cora perked a brow as if asking where this was coming from.

On the other hand, Stiles nodded. “Find something?”

“Kind of?” Lydia said. She grabbed the pages she had clipped and the one other she’d found that seemed connected and showed them to Stiles. “I think Gerard or someone working with him was looking into essentially creating new species or more accurately species developmental deviations. I also found this page here with a sketch showing the adding of a secondary heart as well as some seemingly animal body parts to a human child.’

“On the back of the page it says ‘chimera.’ I don’t think they’re referring strictly to the mythic creature. I think, based on the notes here that I’ve found so far, that someone was trying to create hybrid creatures. Perhaps them including the word chimera is a reference to it being a hybridization of mythic aka supernatural creatures.”

Stiles frowned now. He then asked a question that under other circumstances. “Are you thinking Gerard and his wanted to make this?”

Shrugging, Lydia admitted, “Honestly? I don’t know. I wouldn’t put it past them, but mostly I just have this bone-deep feeling that what I found is important.”

Giving a concrete nod, Stiels said, “Well, I’ve found quite a bit on the Beast in a sense of it’s mythology, it’s story in a sense, but I found this weird site in French. They posit the theory that the Beast was created. Not like what Chris had said, but that was created like manufactured.”

“A fiction?” Cora asked carefully.

Shaking his head, Stiles said, “I don’t think that is what they mean. The theory shared on the site makes it sound like it was almost like bioengineering, but a couple hundred years before that was invented. Seems early even for the concept, but I don’t really know.”

With a frown, Lydia said, “Cora, have you found any references to Chimeras or the Beast in the Hale vault documents?”

Shaking her head no, Cora explained. “No, but there is so really weird genealogy going on in some of the documents, including a few or so people whose names are scratched out to the point of being impossible to read.”

Getting an idea, Stiles said, “You know, we could check some of the genealogy recorders against the carvings in my chest and on my arm.”

Cora frowned before nodding slowly. “That makes sense, but one of the names scratched out in here is one that could be on your body.”

Nodding, Stiles admitted, “Okay, I’m not trying to do it right now, but we should very much—”

“No,” Cora said. “We should do this now.”

Frowning, Stiles tentatively asked, “Why now?”

“Because my name is on you and I am alive,” Cora said, clearly struggling to keep it together. “I do not want to risk there being other survivors that may need our help that we do not know about.”

Lydia took a breath before saying. “Even though our research is important, and I think we’re onto something, I think Cora is right. I’m tired of playing catch up. You two go through genealogy versus what is written on Stiles. Use it as an opportunity to make a list of the names on Stiles. We may need it at some point.”

Stiles said, “Are we sure I’m healed enough for it to be legible?”

Cora sighed. “You’ve seen my handwriting. I’ve got this.”

Looking to Lydia, Stiles asked, “What’re you going to do?”

With an almost ghostly smile, Lydia said, “I’m going to investigate the science of this. IF this is how the Beast was made and or something Gerard was looking into for other reasons, I want to know the practical science behind it as much as I can. So, let’s take thirty to work on our separate projects. We can then come back together and go from there with what we have.”

Just then, Isaac and Boyd joined them in the living room.

Boyd had the baby dressed in a frontal baby sling where the child seemed contented sleep with a binky in their mouth. Boyd on the other hand was also carrying an open laptop. He came around to where Cora was leaving since there was a little clear table space near her, which was were he set the laptop. “It turns out the stories of Lancelot and Galahad are pretty sad. I mean… no one in Arthurian legend really has much of a happy ending, at least in my opinion, but Galahad dies after seeing the Holy Grail. Lancelot is unfaithful to his wife by having a secret affair with Arther’s wife. Plus, Galahad is Lancelot’s son outside of marriage.’

“But yeah, Lancelot is considered a great Knight and was supposedly raised by the fairy the Lady of the Lake. His tale is much older than Galahad’s as well as having more renditions. He’s actually supposedly seduced with magic by Lady Elaine who is Galahad’s mother who created a son with all of Lancelot’s great qualities but none of his bad ones like occasional violent rages. It’s intense.”

While Boyd was speaking, Issac pulled up a backless stool to the table. He was wearing two baby slings over his front with a hatchling sleeping in each and a sling over his back where the fox kit was resting. Issac also had a chipmunk on his right shoulder chattering to him.

Lydia looked at Isaac and perked a brow before turning her attention more fully to Boyd’s words. “Is there anything on what they do? Like, their ultimate great dead or anything?”

Boyd shrugged. “Honestly, in much of what I’ve found the big thing is finding the Holy Grail. It could be symbolic. Essentially, Christianity washing over the truth was a holy item from their own mythos. I mean, a lot of stories—both myths and legends have been over run or edited to allow for the cultural pressures over time. Or at least that how Stiles’s explained it in one of his rants.”

‘Hey!” Stiles squawked. “They are just merely educational conversations!”

The old man who’d been rescued came into the dining room before saying to Lydia, “The Hatchlings have all been fed and put down for a nap. The father is currently eating as well. Jackson and Alice and with him while looking through more of the journals found in Gerard’s base. Is there anything I can do to help? I want to lift my weight in a sense.”

Lydia smiled sweetly. “You are, and shouldn’t you be taking time to heal?”

With a shrug, the old man said, “I’m a Werewolf. The physical is long since healed, and I doubt the mental will heal anytime this century. I lost a lot in that base and the ones I had been trafficked through before it. If I don’t try to help make things better now, what use was surviving all of that?”

Stiles looks up at that, saying, “You know, I could use some side help with the names Cora and I are going to go document. We could really use the help.”

Lydia smiled and gave Stiles a nod of approval.

Cora got Stiles and the man moving to go to the room she was using so that there would be some privacy while she carried some of the genealogy books.

-----------------------------------------

About twenty minutes later…

Cora had gotten through and written down in a notebook about half of the names on Stiles.

The old man who was helping had already done Stiles’ arm and almost all of the rest of the names.

Once they had everything written down, the old man helped rebandage Stiles’ wounds that’d been required to be exposed for reading purposes.

Cora was looking at some of the names with a deep frown, admitting, “I’ve honestly never heard of some of these.”

Stiles sighed, saying, “Yeah, btu you were young when the fire happened, and who knows? Maybe Gerard had killed other family members before that?”

The old man nodded, “He did. Gerard had a real hard on for destroying the Hale name. he ranted about it often during torture.”

Wincing at having led to that coming up, Cora said, “Maybe.”

Then, work started on checking the names versus the genealogy books Cora’d found from what had been brought over from the Hale vault. She found quite a few of the names, but there were still a few that made no sense to her. She then looked to Stiles and the old man, asking, “Do either of you have names you’re not finding? Do we need to swap books?”

The old man moved ot sit closer to Cora, asking, “Which names?”

Cora pointed out a few, saying, “Mary and Malia Tate, Seth Hale, and Darry Hale.”

The man nodded and took a deep breath, seemingly readying himself. “Well, these two here, Mary and Malia wouldn’t be on these. They’re a secret. Talia never wanted Peter to know about his two daughters.”

Cora’s eyes went huge.

So did Stiles’. He spoke first, “Fuck, are you telling me that Malia Tate is Peter’s daughter?!”

The old man nodded. “Yes, but I’m not sure it matters anymore. When I went looking for family, I found out that they’d died in a horrible car crash with their adopted mother.”

Cora asked quietly, “How do you know this?”

The old man sighed and pointed to the name ‘Seth Hale.’ “That’s me. I… I think he considered me dead since he thought he’d tortured my memory of my own name, my own family out of me.”

Stiles was tapping his fingers against his leg with one hand while ferociously tapping away at his phone with the other. He then paused suddenly. He said, “Okay, I found a picture of Malia Tate as a baby… and I used some apps to age her up.”

He then turned around his phone for them to see a young girl before asking, “Could this be Malia?”

-----------------------------------------

Meanwhile, in the dining room…

Lydia found herself not so much looking into the science but falling into her own online spiral. She’d started in scientific advancements in terms of gene splicing as well as hybridization in animals but soon found herself deeper into the concept of cults as she found one for the Beast of Gevaudan. Seemed there had been… maybe still was a cult for the Beast.

The followers sought to bring their DNA into the Beast to gain both enlightenment and an eternity in heaven. It screamed scam to Lydia, but maybe there was something to it?

Then, Boyd spoke, saying, “He, this journal here, it’s go some interesting stuff in it about Marie-Jeanne Valet. It doesn’t talk about the Beast too much, but it does mention it? It’s the journal of Henri Argent.”

Lydia perked up at that. “May I see?”

Boyd nodded and handed her the journal.

Opening the journal, Lydia said, “Henri Argent is the one who married Marie-Jeanne Valet. They’re what Chris was talking about before. While I doubt there is all the information in the world here, maybe Henri included some information on defeating the Beast?”

Boyd nodded, “Fair, but it may have some other stuff too. So far, I’ve seen some stuff for warding against Fey as well as different Wolf’s Bane blends I’ve never even heard of before.”

Perking a brow, Lydia handed the journal back, saying, “Then I think you should try to read as much of it as you can and have Stiles take a look too.

Boyd then explained, “I think you should read it too, if I’m honest. There is quite a bit on Fey and even on their practice of Changelings being swapped with human and other animal’s babies. It’s intense.”

Lydia frowned a bit, saying, “I’m starting to feel like with a lot of this research we’re trying to talk to the dead.”

Nodding, Boyd said, “Isn’t that what reading legends and mythology is anyways? I don’t see how a journal from a dead man is really that different.”

Erica then came into the room, saying, “Hey, I think we should look at be looking at giving the Dragons more of their own space rather than having them all hanging out mostly in one of the living rooms.”

Looking at Erica, Lydia thought a moment before saying, “You know, we do have a finished basement. I can show them to see if they’ll be more comfortable there as their own room.”

“Is it a bedroom?” Eric asked curiously.

“No. It’s more a full apartment. That’s where my Dad sometimes sleeps when him and Mom and fighting,” Lydia explained.

Frowning, Erica asked cautiously, “Why haven’t we seen him yet?”

Shrugging with false indifference, Lydia said, “He doesn’t really come home much these days.”

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An hour or two later…

Chris was talking to an officer from the Beacon City police when there was a sudden shout. Quick to head that way with the officer as well as Tara and Noah, Chris burst through the trees to find Peter holding down a young, muddy and naked girl who seemed positively feral.

Peter looked up in time to make weird eye contact with Chris before speaking to Noah: “Sheriff, I found this girl protecting a couple wounded children that seems to have been a victim of the attack we’ve been examining. I left the child with Parrish as he called the EMTs, but this one tried to flee.”

Frowning, Chris moved closer to where Peter had the girl pinned down. Chris knelled down to ‘get a better look’ as far as anyone else could see, but covertly snapped a quick shot of the girl’s face. Standing up, Chris said, “I’ll call in for some additional support.”

Noah frowned, but he still nodded.

Chris texted Stiles the photo before calling for a second ambulance. He then returned his focus to those around him who seemed confused by his calling an ambulance and not more officers. “The girl has a couple of wounds to her legs. Didn’t you notice?”

Noah and some of the others looked to see what Chris already had: claw marks down her ankles and on one of her arms.

Peter frowned harder, keeping a secure hold of the girl while making sure not to hurt her or even bruise despite him smelling that she was a Coyote.

Chris then got a text message back from Stiles. Checking it, Chris frowned harder. This was a mess and a half. Stiles knew who the girl was, and more than that.

Noah got a call which he quickly answered, “Sheriff Stilinski.”

All the Weres could hear both sides as Parrish said, “The children refuse to come out, and I think they’re traumatized and think Peter hurt the girl who was helping them. Is there any way we could bring her back here for them to come out?”

Peter looked down at the girl he had.

Chris too looked at her. He also moved closer, kneeling down beside her to whisper so quietly that only she and Peter could hear: “Stiles swears that he’ll protect you. He wants you to cooperate until he gets here. He’s already on his way.”

The girl looked distrustfully at Chris. “If he shows, then maybe.”

Chris nodded.

Not even five minutes later, Stiles’ jeep skidded into an off-kilter parking job before he hauled himself out of his jeep. He had not been driving.

Cora stumbled out of the vehicle, looking just as desperate to check on the situation while Lydia wobbled out of the car herself, saying for all to hear, “I WILL NEVER AGAIN GET INTO THAT DEATH TRAP WITH YOU DRIVING!”

Stiles didn’t even pause to acknowledge his confused father or the other officers. Instead, he skidded to a stop beside the girl saying, “Thank god you’re okay! It’s a miracle!”

At the same time, Peter frowned.

But Stiles whispered for the girl to hear, “I’m playing it as you and I were friends before you disappeared. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of this. I swear, Malia.”

Malia frowned, but seemingly following along, let tears fall from her eyes and shook.

Stiles gently nudged Peter away, offering Malia a hand.

Tentatively, Malia accepted Stiles’ hand

Noah asked, “What is going on?”

Tears in his own eyes, Stiles said, “This is Malia… Malia Tate. She was one of my best friend’s before… before Mom… left us.”

Chris knew Stiles wasn’t telling the full truth, but the tears were genuine. Chris had so many questions but now was neither the time nor the place. He then asked, “Malia? Can you help us help the children you were protecting?”

Slowly, Malia nodded. “Yes, if Stiles can come with me?”

Chris knew that questioning lilt at the end was play. A predator rolling with the movements. He didn’t trust it, but he did trust Stiles as well as Lydia. The other question to Chris’ mind was why was Cora tearful about this right now?

-

Cora felt like she was going to rattle right out of her skin. She felt bad Seth couldn’t come, but she understood him staying back to make sure the others were safe. He didn’t seem to consider anyone or anything safe that was still in this ‘hellscape’ as he’d referred to it.

When Chris had sent the text, Cora felt like it was meant to be. They’d get to have a chance at reclaiming more family.

So, here they were, and Cora could see what she knew was a cousin. Cora. One step at a time.

Watching Stiles work with the girl was a start, Cora thought as Stiles went with Malia to help the children. Cora really hoped Cora would stick around, even that she could tell her Uncle Peter what was also going on beyond what was happening right here and now.

-

Fighting back a frown, Peter looked from Cora to the Malia girl. Peter remembered vaguely Malia from the fight in the preserve that had put Isaac in the hospital, but he’d been focused on other things then. However, the way Cora was looking at Malia? There was more to this.

Keeping a close eye on the situation, Peter volunteered to go with Stiles and Malia as well as Noah to head for where Parrish needed help with the children. Once they were a ways away from the other officers, Peter asked quietly, “What is going on?”

Stiles admitted, “Now is not a great time to talk about it, but trust me, this is a good thing.”

Malia rolled her eyes. “Speak for yourself.”

Noah frowned, asking, “How do you two actually know each other?”

Malia just shrugged, leaving Stiles to work out what to say.

Not bothering to conceal, Stiles said, “Remember back when I almost died in the preserve?”

Noah groaned, “Yes, when Peter dropped the supernatural truth bomb on me.”

Stiles nodded, “Well, Malia, like Jackson, was one of the teens Deaton had enchanted for Scott despite Scott thinking it was just people magically being drawn to his morals. The witches in the preserve tried to burn the teens as a sacrifice. We stopped them. During that, the teens were unenchanted, and Malia ran. Seems she’s been living wild in the preserve.”

Rolling her eyes but not adding anything, Malia just walked straight back to where Peter had found her hiding the children.

The long walk was part of why it took as long as it did to find them as Peter had a lot of blood and other scents to go through while also working to appear human and not reveal that he was looking for more than standard evidence let alone literally smelling everything.

Peter noted that Cora had stayed back with Lydia. He considered that a smart move as clearly the teens had not had much time to come up with a story to explain any of this to those not in the know.

When they finally came up on where Parrish was sitting outside of where Malia’d hidden the kids with the EMTs, Malia walked forward and crawled into the small cave for a moment, speaking to them too quietly for humans to hear: “I’m going to get you out of here. I have someone here trustful. You should cooperate, but do not expose what you are to anyone. They won’t understand. I’ll keep protecting you, promise.”

Once again reigning in his frown, Peter readied himself for what may emerge with the young girl.

Malia came out from the small cave.

After her, three children came out. None of the children appeared hurt, but all three looked terrified.

Malia then looked to the children before looking at Stiles, “I’ve brought them out. Are we safe?”

Stiles’ face fell some. He moved forward, telegraphing his movements as he pulled Malia into a loose hug. “You will be. You all will be, right Dad?”

Noah stepped up, “Yes, of course. We won’t let anyone hurt any of you, but we do need to let the EMTs check you all to make sure there isn’t any wounds or anything that needs treating. Deputy Hale and I will stick with you four the whole time--”

“And Stiles,” Malia cut in.

Noah nodded, “Stiles can come too.”

Even as Stiles let go of her, Malia gripped Stiles’ hand tight while asserting, “I won’t go without him.”

Peter nodded, his curiosity growing. Could she smell that Stiles was like her? A coyote?

Again, Noah nodded, “I understand.”

One of the EMTs came forward to carefully take vitals from all three children and Malia—though Malia was incredibly tense when they did hers.

The two slightly older boys and the younger girl stuck close to one another.

Peter knelt down beside the kids and asked, “Can you tell us the names of your parents so that we can call them and tell them that you’re safe?”

Even with his own suspicions, Peter had to play along with the rules of human law and what humans would know right now.

The little girl stepped forward in front of the boys. She came unsettlingly close to Peter. She leaned in and whispered to him, “I want to speak with your Alpha.”

Peter nodded subtly. “I will contact them. Please cooperate until then.”

The girl nodded before stepping back. She then approached Malia, holding the older girl’s free hand.

In the meantime, Peter stood as he slid his hand into his pocket, one-handed texting Lydia to get over there.

It took about fifteen long minutes before Cora and Lydia arrived with a Beacon City officer escorting them for safety. They were after all, to human eyes, just two young girls here to support a friend.

Lydia came forward with Cora just behind her to the left.

Peter flicked his eyes over at the young girl.

Lydia subtly nodded. She caught the girl’s eye when no one was paying attention and flashed her Alpha red eyes.

The girl flashed back Alpha red eyes.

It was a brief moment, but Peter felt his pulse spike just a touch. This meant this as not a normal experience well beyond the oddity of bears attacking people, let alone more than one Grizzley bear running together—supernatural or not.

Before things could go much further, all those with enhanced hearing could hear many different footfall. Stiles, Malia, Peter, and the kids were all immediately at attention.

Suddenly there was gun fire…

Stiles shoved his dad down and under cover. Cora did the same for Lydia. Parrish tried to help the EMTs take cover.

Malia grabbed the children and encouraged them back into where she’d been hiding them. Even though the EMTs tried to force putting them into the ambulance to take them. Once the kids were in, Malia quickly followed.

The EMTs did something and it caused Parrish to burst into flames.

Peter moved closer to intercede despite his bone deep terror, but once he got closer to the ambulances, he caught a scent he hadn’t before: Wolf’s Bane! Not waiting for excuses, Peter shoved the EMTs into the back of their vehicle and locked them in before moving as quickly as he could to Stiles’ side even though he took to bullets to the chest in the efforts.

Cora took it on herself ot deal with Parrish, trying to put him out.

Stiles hollered out—“Don’t Cora! He’s not hurt! He’s supposed to do that!”
Not even bothering with a word on the topic of taking bullets, Peter did spare a thought of gratitude for Kevlar. He then checked Stiles for wounds, but he found no marks. He then looked to the Sheriff who looked pissed. “How do you want us to play this, Sheriff?”

Before Noah could answer. Smoke cannisters started being thrown in, making it hard to see. But worse than that—there was Wolf’s Bane and other things in the smoke. It was clearly hallucinogenic, as Peter could just make out the Beacon City officer staring at his hand and shrieking like it was something other than his hand.

Stiles was quick to peel off his outer flannel and ripping it to make masks for those closest to him. Once that was done and his own secured, Stiles made moves to go help the others, but both Peter and Noah grabbed him and shook their heads no even though it was barely visible already.

Peter took the extra fabric from Stiles before he began moving and trying to find the others and help them with the intent to kill anyone who came close and didn’t belong.

-----------------------------------------

At the same time…

Deucalion, Mel, and Derek were taking Mel’s lunch in the hospital cafeteria looking through some of the digital files the others had shared on Duke’s phone when Derek’s phone rang.

Next, Deucalion’s began ringing.

Derek dropped what was in his hands (aka the sandwich he had been eating), feeling something pulling at him inside, to answer his phone:

“Derek! I need you here… it’s too unreal… nothing’s real… please, please help me, please find me!” Lydia cried out into the phone, the panic palpable despite not being seen. She then screamed and he could hear someone trying to drag her away.

Chapter Text

Peter gripped Stiles on the back of his neck to impart comfort before he took the scraps of fabric and got moving. He back tracked to where he was sure Malia and the children were. They had to be the first stop.

Once he made it to where he thought they were, Peter felt for the rock until he found it and let it guide him down into crouching. Feeling the area where they slipped in before, Peter spoke, sliding some of the fabric in through the gap: “Malia, use these to cover everyone’s faces. There’s more than Wolf’s Bane in the smoke. Stay where you are. It’s the safest place for you all right now.”

Feeling Malia’s fingers slid over his to take the fabric strips he was offering, Peter nodded to himself even knowing no one could see. Moving a bit from the rock, Peter tried to feel for Parrish, who as he got closer to was visible as a glowing flame through the smoke. Speaking out, Peter was careful not to get too close, “Are the flames burning the poisons from the smoke? Is it protecting you?”

Parish growled, seemingly squatting down, “Yes, but I can’t see in the smoke.”

Nodding to himself again, Peter said, “Move forward, following my voice. I will lead you closer to the rock through which the kids and Malia slipped. You can guard the outside.”

As he spoke, Peter back tracked, seeing Parrish follow his voice. “Just a little while further. Watched out for the kind of soft spots on the ground.”

Though Peter always kept a safe distance from the flames, Peter led Parrish to where he needed to be. Then Peter said, “You’re here, Parrish. Protect them while I help the others.”

Peter didn’t dare wait for a response. He was taking too long as it was with all the gunfire. Swallowing hard past his concerns and regrets, Peter tamped down his fear of the flames, fear of loss. He couldn’t hold to the memories of flames licking at his skin or the screams of those he loved dying. Peter couldn’t let himself fall into the terror of Gerard’s base, believing he’d lost Stiles, and so many other horrors. Peter had to fight.

Moving to backtrack even further to where Stiles was, Peter couldn’t deny how hard it was with his senses going wild. Although it blocked a lot of the poisons, the fabric tied over his face didn’t cut off every speck. Add on the noises of gunfire and the screams that may be out loud or from within his own mind? Peter wasn’t one hundred percent sure of things like he’d prefer. Smoke all around was a mental trigger, but like this? His pack in it? What was left of his family mostly here in it? Peter dug his own claws into his hands to keep himself from losing control.

Hearing a Banshee scream somewhere quite a ways away, Peter ran for his Alpha, his instincts crying out and blotting out any other thought in the sheer force of it, loosing complete track of whatever it was he had been doing.

--------------------------

Lydia couldn’t believe what was happening… This couldn’t be real! She’d called Derek, desperate for his help, even screamed, but she was being dragged by a dead man! Gerard Argent was DEAD! She knew it deep in her bones, but he held one of her legs while a second Gerard held the other, dragging her along the ground.

Cora was somewhere back with Lydia’s phone that she had lost in being dragged away from the struggle.

Time was twisting, and Lydia was losing track of the flow. She tried to focus on the details, the smoke that made her skin and lungs tingle. She knew that feeling—Wolf’s Bane. Lydia had caused that in others before, when under Peter’s compulsion to bring him back. She’d heard stories.

Looking around through the smoke, Lydia saw two Gerard’s but only felt one truly holding her. She tried to lash out with the leg she couldn’t feel being held to try and get free from the more solid dead man. No matter how strongly she hoped this couldn’t be real, that certainty was failing, but the strength with which she knew she couldn’t let herself be taken prisoner again reared up. She screamed again, a normal human scream.

Lydia gulped the poisoned air, trying to get enough to give a proper scream. There was no time for hesitation, even as her vision swam and her tears flooded out—she couldn’t let herself be taken again! Derek would come for her, but she had no idea how long that would take! She had to fight!

Gulping down more of the poisoned air, trying to get her breath back despite its panicked pace, Lydia tried again to let loose, force out her Banshee scream. She gave the scream she intended, but she hadn’t managed to aim it well; however, with the aim being more up than at the Gerards, branches were broken and falling on them as well as one of the Gerards’ ears was bleeding then soon the others.

Before she could suck in the air to get another scream out, one of the Gerards—the one she could physical feel the touch of—jammed a syringe into her calf before fully injecting whatever was in it.

Lydia whined, feeling her body starting to go numb and unresponsive. She feared what could be in the syringe or what was going to happen to her.

However, suddenly, through the smoke, a HUGE Wolf leapt into a Gerard, tearing him off Lydia.

Unable to move at all, having lost full control of her body, Lydia watched as best she could as the Wolf tore into one Gerard while the other watched and yelled to support the other Gerard. Soon though, Lydia lost focus, the poisoned air having its way more fully with her as things grew blurry and she found herself in a hospital. Not a hospital… maybe a hospital?

Lydia found herself not breathing and forced herself to exhale slowly. Still unable to blink, Lydia rose to her feet. She wasn’t wearing shoes, and Lydia’s toes dug into the dirt of the ground. Not looking down, Lydia walked forward even as the walls seemed to move like opening to let her out into the woods.

The woods were not those of the preserve. No, this was a thick, almost fairytale like woods as though she was unknowingly walking through the woods to bring cookies to her grandmother's house. That couldn’t be it though.

Still walking forward, Lydia wondered how this could possibly be occurring. She’d had visions that led her to the Nemeton or even just events in her life that led her there, but this was not the preserve and wouldn’t lead to their Nemeton. It couldn’t.

Touching the trunk of a tree as she passed it gave Lydia a zing akin to an electrical pulse only it didn’t burn. It felt like a brush across her mind, an acknowledgement. Lydia took a breath, shaking her head slightly. This couldn’t be real, but somehow it felt more real than any vision or dream she’d ever had. This was more real than screaming Stiles’ name over and over in Gerard’s base. It was more than anything she’d known in ways she couldn’t explain.

Frightened, Lydia kept moving as though she were being called even though she didn’t hear anything, not even a breeze or the natural movements of nature. It was silent, the held breath before death. That thought scared her more while it settled somehow something within Lydia no less. Still moving, Lydia finally came to a stop in a clearing that had one massive tree in the center.

Moving closer, Lydia didn’t want to touch the tree, something in her screaming this was a bad idea, that there would be consequences! Regardless of those thoughts, that urging, Lydia reached out to lay her hand on the tree’s trunk.

The moment Lydia’s hand touched the bark, her head fell back with her eyes still unblinkingly open even as she felt like pulse after pulse was being pressed into her through the connection, like the tree giving her a pulse earlier was simply a trailer before the main event.

-

Peter followed the sounds of Lydia’s screaming, fighting his way there since he couldn’t really see ay attackers until he was right on top of them.

The hunters were wearing gasmasks; aware the toxins would affect humans too.

With no mercy, Peter cut down people as he went. Finally, he full shifted, letting his mask go to run faster to Lydia who sounded more and more frightened. Peter would not leave her. Once he got close enough to see, Peter saw something impossible: Gerard Argent was dragging Lydia by her leg and injected who knows what into her calf.

Peter roared.

Gerard didn’t seem to notice; the blood leaking from his ears giving evidence to why as did the falling branches and debris.

Peter didn’t wait, launching his whole self at the man and taking him down to the ground. Peter was careful to rip the man apart but not touch his face. With the smoke full of toxins, Peter needed to make sure the man could be identified when Peter was of sounder, clearer mind and senses.

Once the corpse wasn’t even twitching, Peter moved to Lydia who was just staring up into the smoke unblinking. Feeling his skin prickle with the toxins and feeling his body start to slow down, trying to heal and internally fight the damage being done, Peter, still in his wolf form, laid partially over Lydia to protect her while letting his body help him.

Time began to bleed, false things dancing through the woods around them. The only reason Peter believed the running of his pack members around him as though on a full moon run in the old days before the fire was the memories of the fire that liked to lick his skin and knowing they’d be reacting to him, not running along past him without a spare glance.

With tears running down his muzzle, Peter did what he could and laid there, protecting his Alpha while waiting for help to come since he felt too weak for much more right this moment.

It felt like forever, watching those long gone run around, haunting him with his regrets of every person he’d been unable to save, before Peter noticed the smoke dissipating. Not getting up, Peter kept a close eye out, not wanting to risk leaving Lydia unprotected. Additionally, Peter wasn’t exactly sure how steady on his own feet he would be right now.

Soon though, Derek came running up to them.

Peter growled low.

Derek came to an abrupted stop a few feet away, staring at Peter.

With a sigh, Peter slid off of Lydia weakly while shifting to his human shape. Pushing himself up onto his knees beside Lydia, Peter explained while motioning to Gerard’s dead body, “Had to be sure you were really you… the body just over there, is that Gerard? I can’t tell if it is or if that’s the poison.”

Cautiously, Derek approached, peeling off his own jacket to give to Peter so he had something to wear. Offering the jacket, Derek looked at the body before responding to Peter, “It looks like Gerard but smells a little different if similar. Can you walk? Is Lydia okay?”

Peter looked at Lydia who was still staring up. “I don’t know if Lydia’s okay. She was screaming. I found her being dragged by the man that looks like Gerard. HE injected something into her, and she’s just been starring unblinkingly up since I got close enough to properly see her.”

After a deep breath in and out, Peter looked at Derek, “I don’t know about my own strength. The hallucinations from the toxins were … traumatic. Is Stiles okay? Chris? The others?”

Moving closer to take Lydia’s pulse to just be sure, Derek looked at his Uncle as he said, “So far, I’ve not felt any broken pack bonds, but a lot of terror and confusion. Lydia called me though, begging me to come for her, so this is my first stop after grabbing Marin.”

Peter nodded. “Marin whose stopping the smoke?”

Derek nodded. “Yes. She’s with the police and Sheriff’s vehicles where more ambulances have been called, I suspect. We need to head that way.”

Peter nodded, swallowing hard.

--------------------------

Stiles was desperately gasping in the fresh air as the smoke broke up. He never wanted to speak again of the hallucinations as some of the smoke got through the mask of fabric he’s made in the heat of the moment. Stumbling to his feet before helping his father to his feet, Stiles took a quick inventory of himself. Looking at his dad to see if he was okay, Stiles was just in time to see his father turning away to throw up.

After patting his father on the back through the throwing up, Stiles asked, “You okay there, pops?”

Noah nodded, manage to ground out, “Check the others. I may be a moment.”

While his father threw up more, Stiles forced his legs to move. He checked the Beacon City police officer near them who was curled in the fetal position, crying. Not wanting to get too close, Stiles asked, ‘Hey, you okay?”

The officer looked at Stiles with wide eyes, asking, “Is this real? Was that real?”

Stiles managed a shrug, saying, “I am real. Can’t speak for the rest… the smoke had hallucinogenic toxins in it. Are you okay to be left here while I check on the others?”

The officer nodded, slowly unfolding himself with tears running down his eyes while he seemed to try to get himself together.

Stiles moved to where he hoped Malia had kept herself and the kids.

When Stiles got to the spot he intended, it was to see Chris crouched down beside the opening, trying to talk to Parrish who was no longer on fire. “I know it seemed real, but it wasn’t. You are all okay. We do need to have everyone checked over. But it’s going to be okay.”

Coming closer, Stiles set a hand on Chris’ shoulder, “Are you all okay?”

Chris moved his hand to show a huge bleeding wound in his gut before covering it again. “It’s going to be okay. Parrish and I have been hit, but neither of us are at death’s door, though medical help would be welcome. Stay clear of the ambulance with the locked back door. There’re hunters trapped in there that were disguised as EMTs. “I’m trying to get Malia and the kids out, but so far no one will talk to me. Can you try?”

Stiles nodded, stepping closer to the crack, asking, “Malia, you okay in there?”

Malia growled ferally.

The little girl spoke up though—“None of us were shot or attacked, but the smoke got to the coyote girl. She’s freaking out, but she hasn’t hurt any of us.”

Frowning, Stiles asked, “Can you guys come out?”

“No, the coyote is keeping us trapped here. She seems to be in a feral hyper protective mode,” the little girl answered.

Stiles sighed. This wasn’t great.

It was then that Stiles heard Cora whining and yipping for help some distance away. Unable to stop himself, Stiles told Chris, “Keep them here. Don’t’ let anyone else get involved except with Lydia’s help!”

That said, Stiles ran on unsteady legs to get to Cora as fast as he could until he stumbled to a stop, tripping over her bloodied body and the bloodied bodies around her to land face-first on the ground. Forcing himself to crawl up onto his knees, Stiles surveyed the situation.

There were dozens of bodies all around them, including many dead hunters and a couple wounded, near death deputies on top of bleeding profusely herself.

Tears running down her eyes, Cora said, “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… Gerard, someone dragged Lydia away! I tried to save her! I swear I did, but I couldn’t… I… I can’t tell if she’s dead or not—my senses are going crazy!”

Cora sobbed, seemingly disregarding her own wounds even as she crumbled further into herself with each sob.

Stiles approached slowly before putting a hand on her shoulder, speaking slowly but calmly, “We’re going to find her. I have no broken bonds. We’ll find her, but first, I need to get help for you and the deputies.”

Shaking as she sobbed harder, Cora nodded as she buried her face in her bloody, still shifted hands.

Stiles sat a bit taller before working his way into standing. He called out, hoping he’d be heard, “Peter? PETER?! Lydia’s missing!”

However, before Stiles could get too carried away, Derek made it into his line of sight, carrying Lydia while helping to support a limping Peter.

Stiles forced himself forward, moving to take on Peter’s weight, so Derek could focus on Lydia. “Cora, Derek and Peter brought Lydia. She’s alive; she’s going to be okay.”

Not letting how unsure Derek and Peter looked about that affect him, Stiles chose to be comforting for the Hales, especially Cora.

---------------------------------------

A bit before…

While Derek waited for Marin to get more of the smoke dissipated and Melissa was making calls to get more support coming in, Deucalion grabbed a gas mask from a hunter they’d taken out upon arriving and charged into the smoke. Deucalion already couldn’t see, so what trouble did the smoke pose if he could be protected from breathing it in?

Not bothering with being guided by scent, Deucalion followed pack bonds. In the process, he took out several hunters and helped grab up officers and deputies that were trapped in the smoke, seemingly hallucinating and being attacked by hunters. Deuc kept grabbing officers and deputies and taking them out of the fight while Marin worked her magic. Soon, Deucalion found himself following a strong bond that made no sense to Deuc right that moment.

However, as the smoke was finally dissipating, Deucalion came to hear Stiles talking to Chris and Parrish based on the words. After Stiles seemed to leave, Deucalion came closer. He had heard about Chris being hurt. For some reason, that rattled around in his mind as a great injustice. The feeling was so profound that Deucalion, without thinking it through, grabbed Chris before the man could do anything and pulled him into a crushingly greedy, demanding kiss. Deucalion needed to taste that the other man was alive.

At the same time, Deucalion laid a hand on Chris’ chest before sliding said hand under his shirt to pull as much pain as he could. Deucalion refused to let Chris be in pain. Feeling the sharpness of the pain, Deucalion did not shield himself at all, just pulling it all at once, likely making the once hunter lightheaded as he seemed to struggle to keep up with the kiss.

Chris finally put a hand on Deuc’s chest to push him back some before breathlessly asking, “What was that?”

Not really wanting to be separated, Deucalion moved his own hand closer to what felt like a growing wet spot on Chris to release one of the many Alpha sparks within his to heal the man. At the same time, Deucalion found himself starting to wonder what he was doing. He’d seen, well been around, Chris in danger before, but this was such a stronger reaction than before. Or was it?

Chapter Text

Malia slipped back under the rock and to what safety could be found with the children she was trying to protect. She wasn’t sure fully what all was going on, but the smoke was concerning. She knew decreased visibility was never a good thing.

After a moment or two, the Wolf that had been with Stiles was nearby and talking to her, using her name: “Malia, use these to cover everyone’s faces. There’s more than Wolf’s Bane in the smoke. Stay where you are. It’s the safest place for you all right now.”

Holding back the growl that reverberated within her mind, Malia took the fabric scraps. Turning to the children after backing away from the opening through which the fabric had been passed, Malia carefully fastened the fabric as masks over the children.

Even though she understood that she should wear a mask too, Malia had to fight herself some on it. The mask felt confining, and such a feeling was beyond unwelcome. She shook herself out some and forced herself ot put the mask on, but it only blocked so much. Soon, Malia thought she could see movement in the shadows.

Catching sight of something out of the corner of her eye, Malia quickly turned as though to catch whatever the movement had been only to find nothing there. Shifting into her half form with only peripheral awareness, she clawed out as though to catch something. Her claws hit nor grabbed anything. A shiver of cold went down her spine.

Malia swallowed the spike of fear she felt, aware there was no specific threat to fight, but yet, her entire system was screaming out at her to run, to fight, to protect.

--------------------------

Cora was right beside Lydia. Right there, or so she thought. The smoke was quickly enveloping everything around them. One breathe was enough to know it was poisoned air: Wolf’s Bane, Mistletoe, and more things than she knew how to identify.

Reaching out for Lydia, having forgotten Parrish and everything else in that moment, Cora realized the other girl had moved a bit away before screaming. Not a Banshee scream, but a scream of fear.

Cora was hit with a bullet, but what could that matter hearing Lydia scream in terror? Cora wasn’t ready to lose anyone, if she could ever be after everything lost in the Hale fire, everything taken on that horrible night.

It was getting harder to see Lydia, but Cora headed that direction, hearing Lydia on the phone with someone, Derek. Cora managed to catch up to Lydia, who it turned out she’d missed due to Lydia being on the ground.

Lydia released a Banshee scream just as Cora saw an old man… a man they’d killed… dragging Lydia by her leg.

Cora went to roar but was shot three times in quick repetition in her chest by shotgun blasts. The blows knocked her back against a tree before she crumbled to the ground. Forcing herself back up, despite the growing pain, Cora tried to fight her way back toward where she estimated she’d seen Lydia even though the person dragging her seemed ot be fast moving.

At the same time, hunters were rushing her way. With the smoke getting thicker and darker, Cora couldn’t really see the hunters until she was right on them, clawing her way forward in a slow slog.

Moving forward, Cora also came across wounded deputies and officers. She tried to save them as she came upon them. She couldn’t bite them—there was no time nor was she an Alpha, but she pulled them back from hunters and killed those attacking them. Screw the secret of werewolves, Cora thought even as she began to see her family, the Hales, running along around her through the smoke. It couldn’t be real, but the pain, the blood and all the pain of each inhale of the smoke was making things blurry. Adding on tears at seeing those lost running around her like they were all on a full moon run, Cora sobbed and fought, trying to get ot Lydia, saving people along the way when she could and ripping hunter apart no matter knives, bullets, or poison. She screamed at some point, screaming and screaming.

Somehow she didn’t realize that even though hshe thought she was screaming, she was actually howling. Though it didn’t take as long as she would prefer to believe before her howls became whimpers and yips as she struggled to continue, btu couldn’t give up or stop crying, even as the smoke started to clear.

--------------------------

Sherif Noah Stilinski knew too many things while still not enough about the supernatural world; however, he was long since sick of poisoned smoke. He heard Peter’s question about how Noah wanted to handle this, but the smoke completely changed the situation. Stiles seemed to take action, and Noah decided that while Stiles was handling pack, Noah could get on the radio, announcing the emergency and shots fired, “10-3, I’ve got a 421 in the preserve a ways from a crime scene… civilians and wounded, 10-52.”

After he’d called it in, He let go of his call button on the radio and took out his weapon, feeling if it was loaded, confirming that it was. Noah knew he could open fire blindly into the smoke, but he also knew that he needed to be ready for it attackers came upon him and Stiles while Peter rushed to help others.

Noah let Stiles fasten a mask on him, but understood rom past experience that there were no guarantees. This time, the smoke looked thicker and spread faster. It also smelled stronger. Unfortunately, unlike last time, the masks were far less helpful.

Quickly, Noah’s vision began to swim. He found himself floating between seeing what of his surroundings were visible nearby despite the smoke and visions of Claudia on the roof of the hospital. First it was her screaming about Stiles being a monster and then her runngi and jumping off of the roof. Then it was screaming again. Then her having little Stiles on the roof, on the ground, strangling him with all her strength. Noah managed ot pull her off, saving Stiles even as the little boy rolled over, coughing and gasping while holding his little throat.

The a hunter stumbled over Noah. Her didn’t think twice when the man turned his weapon on Stiles. Noah shot the man twice in the head without remorse. Then another hunter came with a gasmask on, bearing two knives, slicing Noah’s arm before Noah shot the person twice in the chest before kicking them away one direction then there weapons another.

Another came around and slammed into Stiles, knocking him onto Noah. Careful moving his son to the side, Noah shot the gasmasked hunter twice through the mask before kicking him away.
Before he could check if his son was okay, Noah saw Claudia strangling Stiels again, but this time Noah was took late. Stiles blue and dead before his eyes before Claudia fled and ran right off the roof to her death, Noah grabbed his son, holding Stiles’ little body, dead, in Noah’s weak arms. How could Stiles be dead? He was so little!

Noah should’ve protected him! Should’ve seen what Claudia was doing sooner! Running his hand over his face, Noah pulled that hand back to find his hand blood covered. Looking to Stiles, Noah saw an older Stiles, his teenaged son bandaged and broken like he’d been in the hospital, bleeding out, dead. Noah cried, sobbed, feeling powerless. How could this be? How could he have not seen? He should’ve seen this! He should’ve stopped this this!

Noah felt like screaming, but his mouth was full of salt, his tears no longer liquid, but mountain of salt oozing from every orifice as Stiles began to speed rot in Noah’s arms.

Shaking, unable to cope with what he was seeing, Noah felt so powerless, run over like a storm had consumed him and everyone he’d ever loved, everyone long gone. Stiles was long gone and soon nothing but dust on Noah’s lap, his blood stained hands. Noah just felt the salt fallig nfrom him.

Even as the smoke started to dissipate, the images of a dead Stiles, a dying Stiles in Noah’s arms, blood on Noah’s hands was still scorched into his mind like a secondary seeing to what his eyes were actually seeing. Stumbling to his feet, Noah threw up. He couldn’t help it. Everything in him wanted out, wanted to purge the images, the moments he knew bone deep would haunt him long past his own dying day.

--------------------------

Derek made it into his line of sight, carrying Lydia while helping to support a limping Peter.

Stiles forced himself forward, moving to take on Peter’s weight, so Derek could focus on Lydia. “Cora, Derek and Peter brought Lydia. She’s alive; she’s going to be okay.”

Not letting how unsure Derek and Peter looked about that affect him, Stiles chose to be comforting for the Hales, especially Cora. Taking a breath to steady himself, taking some of Peter’s pain and breathing the pack members near him, Stiles asked Derek, ‘Did you bring Deuc with you?”

Derek nodded as he moved closer to Cora so that she could see him. He knelt down near her to settle his own wolf and let her touch Lydia.

Stiles nodded. He pulled out his cellphone and called Chris’ phone, knowing the man could handle it potentially better than Stiles could while he focused on staying strong for the pack. When Chris answered, Stiles didn’t wait for the man speak, saying, “I need you to grab Deucalion and head my way. There are hurt officers and deputies. They need the bite, and I can’t give it. Peter can’t either right now.”

“Got it. I’ll send Deuc your way. Want me with him? Or do you want me ot leave Parrish in charge?”

Stiles swallowed the panic inside at seeing Peter and others so hurt, saying, “Leave Parrish in charge. Tell him to not leave Malia no matter what and to trust only pack and Dad.”

Even though he was starting to shake, Stiles held Peter close, taking on the weight of the man. Even though Stiles was only a bit scratched up, it didn’t changed the poison from the knive cuts or what was breathed. Stiles didn’t want to think about the visions he’s seen of his mom, of Gerard… of being hurt, his pack dying, his dad dying. It was all too much. It made the time at Lydia’s party once upon a time feel like child’s play.

Not sure what else to do while they waited. Stiles moved him and Peter to sit down beside Cora. Once he was settled on the ground, Stiles settled Peter over his lap with one hand while running his other through Cora’s hair to help settled her as he cried with her. At the same time, Stiels motioned with his head to invite Derek closer if he wanted while speaking to the deputies and officers hanging on to life around them, saying, “You are all very badly hurt. We’re too fr from the hospital for you any of you to make it. I have a way to save you. I know it’s going to sound crazy, but werewolves are real. One is coming to over you the bite you, to give you the opportunity to possibly become one and have you life saved. There is a chance the bite with kill you, but the chance of death is one hundred percent if you choose to wait and try to an ambulance to get you to a hospital on time.’

“Taking the bite is dangerous and if you live, you’ll need to join a pack of other wolves and will be hunted by assholes like those who attacked us all today, but I can promise a family, love and if you don’t want to stay here, being a pack with us, we’ll find you a pack. We’ll find help and resources for you, but it is your choice. You are more than welcome to say no. it will not be held against you.”

Swallowing hard, Stiles took a breath to continue, wanting to make sure that everyone was fully informed, even as he felt Deucalion getting closer with Chris following.

--------------------------

Meanwhile…

Marin stood just a touch away from officer and deputy vehicles but within sight, casting as she had been for a bit to covertly to break up the smoke and cleanse the area of the poisons within the smoke. It was no small task, but Marin focused and worked on the task slowly but surely, knowing she was protected.

She knew the evidence of the poisons wound not be destroyed fully as the officers being taken in the ambulances would be drug tested when their talk of hallucinations made it to the hospital. The poisonings, like Wolf’s Banes and Mistletoe would be detectable.

Agent Rafael with some officers were near the vehicles, having taken cover behind them during the gunfire. The ambulances were arriving, helping take shot attackers that were still alive away.

The wounded officers were hidden to the aide, just past the trees, Agent Rafael had helped Seth and Ethan take the wounded by being a distraction, ordering people around and calling in for more help.

Ethan and Seth had taken the officers to offer the bite to save their lives of the three that were wounded too severely to make it to the hospital alive. A few other officers in better shape had been sent off in ambulances.

Rafael had taken a few shots, but the wounds were not too severe, and the man refused to leave until everyone was accounted for—attackers, officials, civilians, and victims alike.

Even with the sheriff’s radio calls about the state of things, Rafael nor the other officers were not considering Noah accounted for until he was brought out. Just because he could call for help did not mean he was okay.

Sadly, Agent Rafael was waiting for more officers before they broached the trees to seek out others in the trees. Even though he was pacing and clearly wanting to go, Raf knew that their numbers were too few considering just how many they’d dealt with here and knowing there were certainly more. They needed help to go forward even if that meant that other had to wait.

--------------------------

After Deucalion had arrived and had bitten the officers and deputies, no one having refused, Derek and Deucalion stayed with the newly turned and Cora. Meanwhile, Stiles carried Lydia while Chris was helping Peter along as he was still healing like Chris was too.

Stiles knew he needed to get back to Malia. He hated leaving his clearly not okay Alpha, but there were others to deal with. Malia didn’t trust others, and Stiles couldn’t abandon the children. He trusted Deucalion and especially Derek to hold down the fort with Cora while Stiles took their Alpha and worked on dealing with the others.

Even though more pack would theoretically help her more, Lydia also needed to be kept safe. There was no telling what all was going on with her, and if she woke up Banshee screaming, people in the know needed to be there as well as someone she knew was real: aka Peter or Derek.

Still shaking, Stiles led them all back to where he knew Malia was with the children. Once to the rock, Stiles sat down nearby, holding Lydia to himself while keeping her head on his lap so that is she woke screaming, she’d be screaming up and not at anyone in particular.

On the ground, Stiles spoke up to Malia in a way he knew he would be heard, “Malia, it’s safe. We’ve dealt with the some and those attacking us. I need you to come out, we need to see that you and the kids are okay. It’s just Parrish and pack here right now. Not body not in the know.”

--------------------------

By the time everyone was back to the area with the vehicles, Stiles was holding Malia’s hand while she held the little girl Alpha. With the Sheriff’s help, Malia, Stiles, and all three children were loaded into the same ambulance. Lydia went in another with Peter and Derek. Parrish went in an ambulance with another wounded officer. The Sherrif and Raf went into an ambulance with Cora who had promised Stiles’ she’d keep him updated.

The rest of the pack left in Chris’ SUV while Chris took the Sheriff’s vehicle—all of them heading to the hospital. Somehow they’d all managed to stay on the same page without talking it out in advance. Everyone kept everything from before the smoke the same as well as who they were with. Then everyone pretty much focused on the fear for others and hallucinations/sickness from the smoke. All the werewolves played it as being sick but not having hallucinations so that when they were give drug tests, the poison not being strong enough in their system to come up made sense—they’d not breathed in enough.

It also helped that Stiles had made noise about trying to give people masks, having been ready after the Sheriff’s house had been attacked before as well as how terrified he was that no where was safe! He’d thought he was there for a friend he’d thought dead when he was younger and then everything went crazy. He knew the drill—be loud, draw attention, be the victim. It did mean going to the hospital, btu at least mostly as support this time.

Not letting go of Malia’s hand the whole ride, Stiles answered some questions for her. He knew she didn’t know time in the same way he did as well as that it wasn’t an accident. She’d chosen the wild. He would take that from her. He just needed her to surface for a little while. He’d help her escape again. He suspected that’s what she expected of him, but they’d not spoken enough to confirm that yet.

Stiles was really scared for Lydia. Peter had been able to fill in more for Stiles about what had happened to her, explaining about the man who looked like Gerard having been dragging Lydia away, even giving her a shot of something and her having called Derek is terror, begging for help while talking about things not being real.

Although he’d not seen the body himself, Stiles knew his dad had as had Derek and Peter. This was concerning in it’s own way, btu Lydia was the priority on that front. Stiles knew Lydia was still struggling with things even though she was fighting to be okay for Stiles and the others.

That, while huge, was also only one of many issues right now. This was not accidental. Hunters don’t just run up on strangers in the preserve and attack them. They began the attack without even considering non-supernatural people present and possibly without fully seeing who all was there. So how did they know?

--------------------------

Later at Beacon Hill Memorial hospital…

Peter sat quietly in the room with a notepad and pen as he spoke softly with the children and Malia with Stiles present. The Sheriff was also there. There was no recording device, but they still had to appear official to anyone who walked by the door and saw through the window therein. Peter asked, “What happened? And I mean really happened. We’ll sanitize it to keep the supernatural out, but we actually need to know the truth.”

The little girl Alpha looked to Malia and Stiles who still held hands and then to Peter before speaking, “We were out with our parents. Myself and Michael are siblings. Jonah the son of other adults form our pack…”

The girl quieted for a moment, tears starting to trail down her cheeks.

Noah offered her some tissues.

The little girl accepted them before continuing. “They attacked so quickly. Our parents sent us running. They fought with the others to buy us time. I… there were two other kids, but I don’t know where they are. Their bonds are gone, so I think they’re dead, but I don’t know where they are.”

Sniffling a moment, the girl pulled herself together. “My name is Cinn…”

Taking another deep breath, the little girl continued. “My full name Cythia Moore. I’m called Cinder for short thought, like Cinderella. It was my mom’s favorite story… I, I’m eight years old. My brother is six. Jonah’s four. I carried him while Michael and I ran as fast as we could. We have other pack members, adults. I think our parents passed the spark to me to give us a chance of making it out of there. I… I know they’re gone, but I need to make sure that you know my mom was a born wolf. She won’t have dental records.”

Cinder took another breath, holding both Michael and Jonah’s hands in hers now, seemingly trying to give them strength.

Peter nodded, listening but not wanting to interrupt. The reality that Cinder seemed aware the that may be one of the ways they try to identify her parents hurt. Peter asked, “What attacked?”

“Monsters!” Jonah and Michael announced at once.

Cinder said softly, “We don’t know. They were huge, wearing bones and roaring and attacking like… like monsters. There was so much blood on the air. It was suffocating.”

The more the attack was spoke of, the shakier the children were. Peter asked, “Sheriff, could you ask a nurse for a few more heated blankets? It could help.”

Noah nodded and headed out.

Stiles then spoke, “Malia, how did you get involved?”

Malia shivered. “It was loud, the screaming, the fighting, the racing hearts. I don’t know what I was thinking fully, but it triggered something in me, reminded me of when I was younger, the car accident that killed my mom. I just... I ran for it, toward it. I ran right into the kids as one of the creatures was gaining on them, breathing down their necks in a sense. I ripped it limb from limb as quickly as I could before I pivoted on seeing the terrified kids.’

“I asked if there were others, but they were shaking and the little girl, Cinder flashed her eyes at me, saying there weren’t others anymore. I could only think of one thing: I had to get them out of there. I had to protect them. If there weren’t others anymore, that meant the beasts would be looking for them, especially when they found the one I killed. I picked them up and ran for a hiding place I knew of. That’s where we were found.”

Malia then looked to Stiles, “When this is done, I’m going back.”

Stiles felt himself sink into it. He knew that was likely the case. How could it not be? But he also knew, now that he was thinking a little clearer and not losing any blood that he had things he had to tell her before he let her go this time. He finally nodded, saying, “I understand, but please give us a little time to straighten this out before you vanish. I even have a place you can go to avoid your dad if you want. You can come and stay with me. We can say you don’t trust anyone else. Maybe even that you don’t really remember everyone else if that’s be easier.”

Malia nodded, seemingly accepting those terms.

Peter then asked Cinder, “Do you know the contact information for anyone in your pack, anyone you trust who wasn’t killed?”

Cinder nodded, tears still rolling down her cheeks.

--------------------------

Chris was standing in the hospital lobby, having been directing people to where they were needed in terms of the Sheriff’s men and officers from Beacon City. With the Sheriff and Peter talking to ‘witnesses’ of a more sensitive kind, Chris had to operate in a higher capacity to keep things moving while not causing anyone to wander into secrets they weren’t looking to share with the world.

Once things had mellowed some, Chris took out his phone. Even though there were others calling families and organizing notifications, Chris knew he had a call to make no less. After only two rings, Boyd picked up, “Hello?”

Knowing it wasn’t normal for him to call, let alone call Boyd of everyone, Chris was to the point, “Something happened. Hunters attacked near the crime scene in the preserve. There’s too much to explain over the phone, but Lydia’s in rough shape. She’s not dead, but non-responsive. We need her mom to get down here. Please bring her yourself with someone else. Do NOT let Natalie drive. Lydia’s her only child.”

Chris didn’t explain more, hoping Boyd would understand. The young man had a way of listening that Chris valued and hoped he could rely on in this moment.

Boyd seemed to hesitate before responding carefully, “Is she the panic we were feeling? Is Stiles okay? The others?”

Not bothering to beat around the bush, Chris said, “Stiles is … his form of okay so far. He’s not hurt. Most people are going to be okay, but we still need the support. Please alert everyone to be extra alert. They attacked police and deputies in broad daylight. I don’t think I need to explain how reckless that is.”

Cutting in, Boyd said, “No, you do not. I’ll take care of this end. You’re at the hospital, right?”

Grateful, Chris said, “Yes, with a swarm of officers that are not at all pleased. Also, Raf was shot, so he’s exceptionally sour.”

Boyd chuffed before saying, “We’ll be there soon.”

Chris ended the call and put his attention back on his surroundings, not trusting hunters to not attack here next. He didn’t like taking people from the Martin house, but he also knew they were spread pretty thin here on people in the know for having turned several new people. Chris was not looking forward to Stiles or Lydia’s takes on this mess. Then again, with how Lydia had looked when he’d last seen her, maybe he was looking forward to her take—it would at least mean she was more back to herself. This had to be wearing.

--------------------------

Laid on her stomach, Allison’s body had more than one flesh ton now. The Surgeon stood over her, gas mask forever in place. Piece by piece, the Surgeon added. This would be his second greatest masterpiece yet. That it was the same bloodline as his first masterpiece? Well, what could he say? He had a type.

As Deaton walked into the room from behind him, the Surgeon didn’t bother turning to look as he began to tie off the last of the line attacking the first dragon wing. He had more parts this time than for his first masterpiece. They gathered more from the base than just the two bodies. No, he’d been working with Gerard before Deaton.

Too bad for the druid that he couldn’t see past his own intentions to grasps that large implications of the masterpiece. Too bad for the druid that he didn’t know about all of the augmentations the Surgeon had made in the druid’s pet.

The Surgeon smiled behind his mask. He knew his limits, did Deaton? The Darach that still thought he was a druid? Maybe druids were a joke these days if Deaton was the best of them like he claimed? Regardless, the Surgeon knew not to trust the snake tongue Darach. He doubted anyone did, except maybe the pet the Darach coveted. But even that was not Deaton’s. Like this masterpiece, the boy was the Surgeon’s too.

Deaton asked, “Why wings?”

The Surgeon tilted his head faintly, “Why not?”

Frowning, Deaton said, “I thought she was to be a distraction? To throw them off like Gerard’s body double.”

It was hard not to sigh whenever Deaton spoke. The Surgeon then said, “Everything is capable of being more than one thing.”

Frowning harder, Deaton moved to the other side of the surgical table. “That’s not an answer.”

Changing the topic, the Surgeon asked, “Did you imbue the boy with an Alpha spark?”

Deaton sighed, “I’m still working on it.”

“Then why are you interrupting me while you still have work to do?” the Surgeon asked, still not looking at Deaton.

“Gerard’s body double attacked the pack, police officers, and the sheriff and his,” Deaton said. “Seems to have stirred up a whole hive of response, drawing more than supernatural attention. We’ll have to be more careful. Might be wise to further secure our location from the mundane.”

The Surgeon genuinely worked to keep themselves from yelling at the Darach. “We’re too close to pause now. When I’ve finished her wings and the other has his Alpha spark, we’ll switch locations. The next place is more secure and almost ready anyways.”

Chapter Text

At the Martin house…

Erica refilled the electric tea pot with water before turning it on. She already had gathered the mugs. One by one, she placed the appropriate tea in each mug. Next, Erica moved to the fridge and pulled out some grapes and strawberries. She placed both on the counter and grabbed some bowls to break them down into for everyone to have some. All of it had been washed before it ever went into the fridge, so that was one less thing for Erica to deal with right now.

Once the electric kettle beeped to alert the water was boiling hot, Erica took it by the handle to fill the prepared mugs. After putting the tea pot back on the bottom piece, Erica put the berries and grapes into the bowls before carrying them out to the others, including but not limited to the dragons, Boyd, and Mrs. Martin.

Erica took out tea next, wanting to be helpful. A lot had been going on. They’re nearly lost their Alpha, and now she had a new Alpha that had already been a packmate. It was so much, and there were others now too. The pack had taken in more than she’d ever considered.

Even though things seemed to be trying to settle and everyone trying to heal, Lydia also had them all working on getting ahead of things. Her visions kind of leading the way in a sense. It was all pretty abstract, but Erica kept going, doing what she could.

At least they had been able to save their pack members from Gerard and bring them to some form of home for them all. Erica didn’t know every detail, but she was more than willing to feed hatchlings and cuddle with Boyd until everything laid out a little more clearly. She trusted her pack and her Alpha.

Finally settling into a seat in the living room with her own bowl of fruit and some lemon tea on a side table beside her, Erica let herself relax a bit. A small hatchling and one of their siblings crawled into her lap to snuggle, which Erica welcomed. It turned out that dragons could be snuggly too even if they weren’t covered in fur.

Leaning her head back some to stretch her neck, Erica enjoyed knowing that they were all pretty safe right now. The pack was stronger, together. Straightening just a bit, Erica looked around the room, noticing how Isaac was splayed on one of the couches on his belly as he bounced between reading three different books with a chipmunk that she knew was a Leprechaun. He had three hatchlings on his back and a fox cuddled up against where his chest lifted off the couch to leverage himself to be able to read.

The father dragon was curled around the other hatchlings in a seat between Erica’s and the ouch Isaac was on. The father curled around the hatchlings like a cat around her kittens almost. All their beautiful white scales and utter overwhelming cuteness never got old for Erica.

Danny was sitting on the other couch in the room, scrolling and doing things on his phone with books open around him. It seemed the techy guy was researching and cross-referencing, but Erica only guessed that due to having seen Stiles spiral more than once in the past.

Seth Hale was coming in and out of the room, transferring blankets. It seemed he was gearing up to convert the living room into a comfortable nest. He’s already brought in quite a few pillows. But he was now raiding bedrooms and linen closets for blankets and sheets to spread out in the free area between the furniture and the tv in the built in shelving units.

Erica wondered if all the nest making meant that Alice and the babies would be coming out to join them all in the living room soon? Maybe Boyd and Mrs. Martin would join in? So far, Mrs. Martin was pretty cool with all of this, but she still seemed not quite comfortable with all of the touching and cuddling. Lydia seemed quite sure that Mrs. Martin would come around, but Erica wasn’t so sure. Erica had smelled how uncomfortable Mrs. Martin was.

Mel wasn’t much better, but to be fair, Mrs. McCall was mourning her son. Scott may have sucked, but he was still her son. When not at work or doing the basics of living, Mel slept a lot, seemingly escaping reality when she could.

Erica figured sleeping was better than drinking away her problems or doing reckless stuff. Erica didn’t know what reckless stuff there was to do, but she knew sometimes people did dumb things when sad. Boyd had shared with her some once, late at night, about how parts of his family had reacted when his sister Alicia died. It was a mess. It made Erica happy she was an only child. She didn’t think she could handle having a sibling only to lose them.

Maybe Mel would get better and start to open up? To cuddle and scent with the rest of the pack when she’d slept enough to feel okay again? Maybe her joining in would help Mrs. Martin to? Lydia’s mom always seemed so uncomfortable!

Then again, the Sheriff was getting more comfortable with all of them. He wasn’t quite ‘cuddly,’ but he was more willing to spend time touching and scenting everyone. The man at least had a good point about part of his not being more involved having to do with bad back and knees—he couldn’t just cuddle wherever whenever.

Smiling at that thought, Erica wondered if she should suggest they all get a huge bed to all cuddle in. It would make it easier on Mr. Stilinski’s knees and back while still including him more. She wasn’t sure there was a bed big enough, or even a room in the house big enough, but maybe they could buy a few California king beds and push them together?

However, just then, Mrs. Martin came into the room, tearful, “Lydia’s at the hospital! She’s alive, but she’s non-responsive. I need to go, to go to her!”

--------------------------

Chris sat in a chair in the lobby. He was tired and had too much to think about as it was. His body had worked overtime to heal him, and it cost more than he could deal with right now. Swallowing the thickness of his concerns about what would come of the kiss with Deucalion as well as the attack from the hunters, Chris just stayed sitting, not feeling up to facing the world right this moment.

Not daring to close his eyes for fear of what images may meet him—be they the look on Lydia’s wide-eyed face or memories of his father’s abuse—Chris didn’t want to see. He didn’t even really want to think, but what else was there? It seemed many of the officers and deputies’ families as well as reinforcements had arrived. The pack, or at least a few more members of it, were on their way.

At some point, Chris knew Marin, Ethan, and Deucalion may join them at the hospital, but it was also possible they would check in at Lydia’s home for clothes to provide those here. It was hard to say for sure. Chris didn’t want to call or text to ask, to guide. He felt done with this day. It was enough, wasn’t it? This life… it had cost him everything, even his humanity, in the end.

Chris knew he had the pack, and that mattered quite a bit, a new family in a sense, but did that really erase the pains of those lost? Chris still mourned Kate, privately. Not the woman she grew into and died as. No, he mourned the little girl who followed him around curiously, asking every question under the sun because she simply had to know, had to understand. He wasn’t sure exactly when that girl disappeared, but that is the loss he mourned.

Not missing his father—no love lost there, Chris did acknowledge that he mourned Victoria—both the woman as she was before Kate and Gerard got mixed up with her after their all moving here as well as the mother who sought to protect their little girl. He mourned his own actions, helping her kill herself. They’d been so young when those kinds of promises were made, expected. That it was included like a metaphor in their vows should have been a sign, but what was done was done. He couldn’t go back.

Even if he could go back in time, change things, Chris wouldn’t do it for even a young Kate or Victoria, not even for himself to spare himself the trauma of helping to kill his wife. No, Chris would go back to save Allison. He didn’t know how or even when exactly was best to go back to, but he would. He’d do it to save his baby girl who, like the others, was gone forever now.

After shaking his head at himself, Chris rubbed his face with both of his hands, trying to wake himself up, maybe even distract himself. This line of thought would do no good for himself or anyone else. The past was done. Like his long dead mother, Allison was gone for good. There was not really anymore to be said on that.

Sighing, Chris forced himself to stand, allowing his legs to stretch some even as he wished he could just go to sleep. His inner wolf was hungry, but Chris felt like surrendering. His wolf was very much not on the same page, but Chris knew the wolf would likely be getting some form of its way in the end. Chris, in part due to his daughter’s love of the pack, knew he had to stay and fight, keep working to be the man his baby girl saw in him, wanted him to be.

Shaking out his hands briefly, Chris looked up from his hands just in time to see Boyd walking in sedately behind a frantic Natalie Martin who was being corralled in part by Jackson.

Chris straightened up, stepping closer. “It’s okay, Natalie. I can take you to her. They’re probably done with their examination by now.”

Natalie nodded, following Chris’ lead.

Chris then walked them through the halls like he’d been here so many more times before than he actually had been. He took them through the maze until bringing them up to a closed hospital door. Chris gently knocked on the door.

The door opened quickly via Derek who looked unsettled but holding it together. Seemingly seeing Natalie, Derek stepped aside to let her in even as he said, “There’s been no change since the preserve.”

Chris nodded to Derek even as Jackson and Natalie walked straight to Lydia who looked so small laid on the hospital bed, here eyes open and staring unseeingly up.

Derek moved back to Lydia’s side where it seems he had been sitting before answering the door. After sitting back down, Derek gently stroked Lydia’s hair, speaking softly to her, “Your mom is here… so are Jackson and Boyd.”

It was heartbreaking to see Lydia like this. In the hospital gown, swallowed up in heated blankets, Lydia looked so much more childlike than the fiery red-head they were used to seeing and dealing with.

It didn’t help that the way Derek looked at her was like he was both waiting for her to blink her eyes, grinning like it was a joke at any second and also to die right there while they waited for her return.

Chris felt his heart clench at the sight. The Hales had already seen too much pain thanks to his family alone. None of them should ever have to come to the hospital again or anything else. They should be held safe and away from all of this violence and cruelty.

As if on cue at Chris’ topic of thought, Peter stepped in the room, saying to Derek, “I was only able to get you a soda and some chips. The pickings were pretty slim for me to be quick.”

Derek nodded, without even looking at his uncle, still petting Lydia’s hair. “Thank you.”

Peter set the items on the little counter in the room before moving to stand by where Derek was, asking, “How’s it going?”

Natalie threw herself partially on her daughter, wrapping her arms around the non-responsive girl, crying and begging her to come back to them.

Derek whispered softly as though raising his voice could shatter Lydia, “Nothing’s changed. She isn’t responding to anything, even the blood draw. They’re running tests, but they’ve not been back since taking blood and the other testing, like response to stimuli.”

Peter nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Chris just watched, feeling wholly unable to help yet also unable to turn away. He felt like he should say or do something, but nothing useful came to mind.

Before Chris could fumble one way or another, Boyd said into the quiet room while taking off the duffle bag he’d had on, “I’ve got changes of clothes for people. How’s Stiles doing?”

Peter looked at Boyd, saying, “Stiles is mostly okay so far. His wounds have been dealt with. Right now, he’s glued to Malia and the kids of the murder victims that have been recovered.”

Speaking more quietly, Peter said, “One of the children became the Alpha of their pack. We’re currently reaching out to the adults she gave us information for. Stiles is keeping Malia centered while she watches out for the kids.”

--------------------------

In another hospital room…

Stiles watched his dad return to the room with his arms full of sodas and junk food from the vending machines.

As he put all of the spoils of his vending machine raid on the counter in the room, Noah said, “I got what I could. I hope you all like at least something in all of this.”

Malia didn’t move, but the kids looked ready to fall on it, but they looked to their new Alpha. Said Alpha, Cinder, looked to Malia. She nodded, clearly aware of Noah being Stiles’ father.

The Sheriff moved to take a seat in the remaining chair in the room as the children descended upon the junk food, feasting on it like they were starved, which was fair. They’d been in the woods for at least twenty-four hours by the time they’d been found, let alone all the time spent with the hunter attack as well as debriefing, the interview, and Noah needing to find food.

Now sitting, Noah approached a likely unwelcome topic. “Malia, we’re going to have to notify your father. I want to put it off a little, but I required by law to notify him promptly that we found you.”

Malia narrowed her eyes at the Sheriff.

Stiles gripped her hand tighter. “We can protect you.”

She looked at Stiles before back at the Sheriff. “He won’t understand. He’ll think I crazy probably, he’s not ready to handle any of this.”

Noah sighed. “I know this isn’t easy, but that doesn’t change that human laws still require him to be told.”

Swallowing so many things he was tempted to suggest that would not be constructive, Stiles offered, “Could we request she stay with me? I mean, she knows me. That’s part of the story already, that she only trusts me because she remembers me. Maybe we can play it like she needs to stay with me until she’s adjusted more?”

Shaking his head some, Noah explained, “I don’t think we are going to be able to legally do that unless Mr. Tate agrees. And for that? We have talk to him.”

Malia growled, crossing her arms while still holding Stiles’ hand.

If the situation were different, Stiles might laugh at the awkwardness of it, but right now wasn’t that time. Stiles was fighting really hard. His hands still shook, but it was subtle enough he was still not being called on it. His life was a nightmare, but he’d known that since being tortured by Gerard this last time. He knew that having names carved into him was merely the beginning of this. Not anywhere near an end.

Swallowing the horrors again, every hallucination of his mom coming for him, of his father drinking and throwing bottles of whiskey at him that the poisoned smoke conjured in his mind, Stiles forced himself to speak, “We’ll talk to Mr. Tate then, make him understand.”

Noah nodded, seemingly seeing the determination in his son’s eyes.

Stiles ran his free hand through his hair, asking softly, “Malia, do you want us to tell your dad about the supernatural?”

Malia sighed. “Not really. It won’t really help him.”

Nodding slowly, Stiles looked at his dad. “How long do we have?”

Looking at the watch on his wrist, Noah said, “They’ll probably be calling him soon, if they’re as on it as normal. They may be a touch over worked right now, but with Beacon police and the FBI involved, helping that shouldn’t slow things much.”

Stiles nodded again. He then said, “We should probably order so proper food in. All of us need to heal, and that takes energy. The smoke was harmful in a lot of ways. Drinking and eating plenty will help get more of it out of our systems faster, probably.”

Standing, Noah took out his phone, “Want me to order for everyone?”

Stiles hesitated, aware they couldn’t really afford it. “Maybe we should ask Peter to?”

Noah shook his head, “Not necessary. I’m paying almost nothing in groceries right now thanks to Lydia and Peter. I’ve got this.”

“Then, yeah. Do you want me to text everyone to get orders?”

“No,” Noah said. “I’ll just order a ton. We can pass it between the rooms.”

When his dad stepped out to put in the order, Stiles used his free hand to text the others, letting them know a food order was being put in.

--------------------------

Even as he was stepping just outside the room to order food for the pack, Noah was fighting to reign himself in. Looking at Stiles, seeing his hands shaking? It was hard. It was hard to blink as every flash of darkness of was filled with Stiles being choked, his only son being killed by his own mother. Noah wasn’t sure if there was enough alcohol or time to wash those images from his mind even if he dedicated his entire life to it.

Noah knew better though. Alcohol wasn’t the answer. That only hurt his son. Had Stiles not been hurt enough already? Noah refused to make it worse.

Pushing himself onto task, Noah order three of everything on the menu of the best, yet affordable, Chinese restaurant in town that delivered. They were put off a little at delivering to the hospital, but such a big order? That got them onboard pretty quick.

Once that was done, Noah was quick to go back into the hospital room. He didn’t like letting Stiles out of his line of sight right now, even with the horrible images of his poor boy being hurt still flashing in his mind’s eyes.

In the hospital room, Noah couldn’t help but notice how firmly Stiles and Malia held hands. Noah knew Stiles was with Peter, but the intimacy so soon was strange. Malia was not pack; she was not a normal fixture in their orbit. She was new, but Stiles took to her like he’d always known her.

Noah knew there was more to this, but now he knew was neither the time nor the place to investigate further. There were wounded as well as more questions than answers about what had happened today. How had the hunter’s known where they’d be? Was this a precision attack of the pack? It seemed less organized than the previous times, more like just throwing bodies at a wall. Something closer to a distraction than a take down.

Speaking practically there may have been enough attackers to take out the pack members present, but attacking while there were others? Police officers? Other deputies? That seemed sloppy. Add on that they used a tactic—the poisoned smoke—in an open area. They had to know that wouldn’t last. Add on the numbers: how many pack members were there versus how many there were in total? That sounds like too many attackers for the three pack members openly there. Stiles, Cora, and Lydia were not really supposed to be there.

Those three were a sudden need, not anything planned. Did they know the Alpha would be there? How could they? How could they get so many attackers there so quickly if they didn’t decide to attack until Lydia, Stiles, and Cora were there?

Did they think that Peter was the Alpha? Were they even trying to attack the Alpha in the first place? Did they know who the Alpha was?

This didn’t sit right with Noah. Whether or not they were tipped off about pack involvement, there was no practical way that they could’ve had such strong numbers for Lydia, Cora, or Stiles. That was too short of notice. No, they had to have aimed this attack at the three possible adults connected to the pack. Peter was clearly pack via being a werewolf. Chris may be known thanks to his father as a disappointment for not hunting anymore. Noah knew he himself was a target against his son. Stiles was known to be involved, so hurt Noah to hurt Stiles. Made sense.

So, the attack was about the three older men. The deputies and police officers, even the FBI were just in the way. Or were they intended collateral damage? Maybe a bit of shock and awe? A distraction maybe?

It made no sense to attack just the one place and not any others if it was meant as anything else. It was possible that with Lydia’s moving the entire pack to one location not known for being connected to the supernatural bought them some time, but even with that, Noah, Chris, and Peter still had to go out in the world. So did Mel, Derek, and even Deucalion for Mel’s work.

Why not attack the Martin house? Why not attack the hospital when Mel is on shift? Why attack them, especially in an open area that made it harder to guarantee kills, especially with using the smoke that blinded the attackers as much as the other people there?

But if this was a distraction, what was the main event?

--------------------------

About an hour later…

Mr. Tate was guided into a hospital room by Deputy Argent only to see his adopted daughter, Malia, sitting fine as could be holding a young man’s hand with other children in the room. He felt overcome with so many questions, so many platitudes and more. Unable to verbalize the series of expletives of joy at his daughter being alive, prayers of gratitude, and begging for forgiveness for not finding her sooner himself, Mr. Tate managed to just squeeze out—“You’re alive.”

Malia looked at him, her eyes older than they were when he’d last saw her. She was taller, older. She’d lived in the preserve, or so the person who had called him to notify him that she’d been found had said. How had she survived? How had she gone unfound for so long while so close to home all the while?

He approached her slowly as though if he were too fast, she would vanish like a mirage. Mr. Tate, Henry, couldn’t bear the thought of losing her after all this time. He’d buried his wife, his other child after the car accident that he’d believed claimed his whole family even if they’d never found Malia’s little body. This was a miracle. She was a miracle.

Once close enough, Henry gently touch Malia’s cheek, stroking it as though she may not be real, like he had to confirm this was not some dream sent to torture his waking mind. He whispered softly, “I… I thought you were dead. I… I can’t believe this is real, that you are here, alive…”

After a moment of soundless awe, Henry gently pulled his daughter into a soft hug. He didn’t force or mention how stiff she was. He was too grateful for her mere existence to be picky one way or another. She was his everything. She was the world to him now. He would never leave her side again.

--------------------------

Peter tapped his leg. He knew he had to stay where he was. The pack had needs, and Lydia had needs, even if she couldn’t tell them what they were right now, but Peter itched to be with Stiles. He understood why he couldn’t be. Chris needed to be the deputy to take Mr. Tate to see his daughter. Peter needed to watch the pack members that weren’t with those rescued.

It was just hard. After everything, after seeing his family running along near him, Peter didn’t know what to say, what to do. He needed his whole pack together, cuddled close. He couldn’t do this. He needed his Alpha, his mate… he needed comfort, but he had to be strong. He was a grown man, and this was what was called for.

Peter hated the hospital. Nothing good came from staying here too long. He’d spent too long in a coma here. Stiles had been hurt here, Peter too… other pack members. It was hard.

A soft knock on the room door, and then Cora stepped in with Raf just behind her as well as Deucalion.

Peter pulled Cora into a gentle hug, scenting her and holding her close. His wolf felt more settled just having her close, confirmation she was okay. He nuzzled into her hair to further solidify this was good, and she was okay.

Raf looked rough even as Deucalion had the man sit down despite a grumble from Raf: “I’m not broken.”

Peter slowly let Cora go, “Are you okay?”

Cora nodded. “A miracle, I’m sure. Turns out most the blood on me wasn’t mine. I’m lucky I just got a cut or two. Lost a bit of blood, but it looked worse than it was. Guess I was just really scared.”

Nodding in understanding of the story that needed to be told, Peter said, “I’m glad you’re okay. I was worried.”

Cora hugged him again, a bit firmer this time, before letting him go to go hug Derek who still looked quite lost at Lydia’s state. Plus, it gave Cora a chance to check on their Alpha too.

Peter looked at Raf, “How’re you doing?”

Raf frowned. “Pissed. I got shot three times. One of them was a graze, but the other two hurt like a bitch. One in my side, the other in my arm, thankfully not my dominant arm.”

Nodding, Peter looked at Deucalion, “The others?”

“Marin and Ethan are back at Martin’s place. I dropped them off myself. I’m here to make sure everything is going smoothly and as back up if they dare to hit the hospital.”

Peter nodded.

Then, suddenly, Lydia gasped, blinking and sitting up suddenly to soundlessly scream.

--------------------------

Theo ran for his life. He had no other choice. There was nowhere else to go. He had to get out, away. His first attempt was Stiles’ house, but there was police tape up. There were heartbeats there, but none of them were the hummingbird fast beat he sought. No, Stiles wasn’t here. Where could he be?!

In full shift as a wolf, Theo knew he had to be careful about being seen, but he also needed to be fast. Beyond just being a wolf in a populated area, Theo knew the surgical marks may be visible to others if he didn’t stay hidden. He couldn’t let his wounds be seen anymore than he could let himself be seen. Theo knew he was a freak.

Additionally, Theo couldn’t risk being caught. He couldn’t risk them, his captors, realizing he’d escaped and then come for him!

Next stop was the Loft, but there was no one there. Then the burnt-out old Hale house—nope! No one was there. He started quietly stalking around town, checking the houses of people Theo was aware Stiles knew, even Erica, Boyd, and Jackson’s houses. But still no Stiles!