01

Leaning back against the corrugated steel of the wall behind him, Scott doubled over, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. His body ached, blood dripping down his left arm from a ragged slash just under his elbow. Gritting his teeth, he squeezed his right knee softly, wincing at the sharp pain that shot down his leg from the simple movement.

Next to him, Malia wasn't in any better shape. She was bleeding heavily from a gash running down her left cheek, one shoulder of her shirt completely shredded along with the skin below. She was looking around the corner of the wall, right hand reflexively clenching as she tried to spot their opponent.

"Anything?" he gasped out, trying to keep his voice low but unsure if he was successful. All he could hear was his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, the rest of the world muffled, faded.

"Not yet." She turned back around, eyes glowing a vivid blue in the dimly-lit alley. "Are you okay?"

"I think so." He straightened up and slowly leaned on his injured knee. The pain was bad, sharp enough to make him grimace, but the limb remained strong and steady beneath him. Looking up, he locked eyes with her and nodded curtly. "I'm good."

She let out a relieved sigh, then sank back against the wall next to him, exhausted. "Thank God. He's so strong!"

He was a werewolf who went by the name Arthur Coyle, a man without a pack, an Omega. He'd come to Beacon Hills a week before with a purpose and a long list of victims in his wake. He was a thief, a bank robber, using his supernatural strength to mow down anybody who tried to stop him. After he hit the first bank, the circumstances had tied the crime to several other robberies in California over the past two years. Tape from the bank had made it obvious they were dealing with a werewolf. So the pack had staked out the other two banks in Beacon Hills and waited to take him down.

Only it hadn't gone well. He'd shown up at the bank watched by Lydia, Malia, and Parrish. They'd fought and he'd come out on top, somehow stronger than the three of them. He'd walked away with the money, and the pack had come together to question how a single Omega could possibly be so strong.

Deaton had been the one to figure it out. It was some kind of plant, some rare herb that worked like werewolf steroids. It boosted all their strengths off the charts, turning them into living tanks. The good news was the effects could be neutralised and he knew how. The bad news was it took time, and Coyle had a very clear pattern. He hit a different bank every second night, then immediately skipped town. So they knew where he would be and when, but the timeline of producing the suppressant and actually using it on him was razor thin.

When the time came and things weren't ready yet, Scott had done the only thing he could. He'd gone to the bank to face Coyle head-on, to delay him long enough for Deaton to finish up the suppressant and get it to him. Malia had gone with him, insisting there was no way she was letting him take the guy on alone after experiencing first-hand just how strong he was. They'd confronted him right outside the bank and it quickly became obvious just how badly they were overmatched. He was just too strong, too quick, too much. So they'd done the only thing that made sense. They'd ran, praying the juiced up wolf would give chase. And he had.

Sudden heavy footsteps echoed through the still night air, bouncing off the walls and buildings around them. They'd stuck to alleys and darkness, trying to lead the monster away from the downtown, more heavily-populated areas. It made it a little easier to hide, but also a little harder to precisely pinpoint where he was.

Low-pitched growls slowly grew louder as Scott held his breath and listened, trying to figure out exactly how close the Omega was. He could hear the wolf's heartbeat now, beating way too fast, which meant he was close. Very close.

Next to him, Malia trembled slightly as her claws flicked out and she pushed away from the wall to face the alley, her own ears telling her the same thing Scott's had already told him. Taking a deep breath, he followed her lead, shifting into his wolf as stepped up behind her. Reaching out, he laid three fingers on her bare arm. She stiffened, then nodded almost imperceptibly when she realised what he was doing. Slowly, he retracted a finger and tapped two as the growls grew even louder, the heartbeat like gunfire in his ears as Coyle stalked towards them.

The instant he tapped one, Malia let out a growl of her own and darted around the corner, him on her heels. Coyle was right there, hulking form standing mere feet away, eyes wide and glowing blue, fangs bared. She hit him low, diving for his knees as Scott went high, leaping over her, claws drawn back and ready to strike. The Omega let out a roar of pain as she hit his knee hard, but kept his hands up and caught Scott with a hard shove to the chest as he came in close. He got a little cut on his right arm for his efforts, but successfully sent the incoming Alpha careening back through the air and crashing down hard on the concrete.

Springing to her feet, Malia came forward, claws flashing as she tried to drive the wolf away from Scott, who was slow to rise behind her. He shook his head to clear it as he watched her dance around Coyle, avoiding his claws while trying to stay between them.

Just as he reached his feet, he watched her stumble slightly and saw what was coming before it happened. Seizing on the tiny advantage, Coyle slipped a hand past Malia's guard and clamped down hard on her wrist. Wrenching her already injured shoulder hard, he jerked her forward, and she screamed in pain. Even as his free hand closed around her other wrist, Scott was racing forward, divining the next move. With a roar, the Omega turned, yanking her off her feet as he swung her hard toward the far end of the alley.

Darting around Coyle's right side, Scott reached out with both arms just as he released Malia. Timing it perfectly, he caught her by the waist with both hands as she rocketed forward, clamping down as hard as he could. In one motion, he spun around in a complete circle to eat up some of the momentum, never breaking stride as he set her down.

"Run!" he shouted, clasping her hand in his and sprinting forward. His knee was screaming, but he couldn't stop. Not now, not yet.

Turning the corner, the pair didn't pause, racing ahead like their lives depended on it, feet pounding the pavement hard. They kept moving forward, twisting and turning through the maze-like alleyways, the risk too great to turn and see if Coyle was right behind them or not.

"Fire escape!" Malia shouted suddenly, barely audible over his own pulse hammering in his ears.

Narrowing his eyes, Scott spotted the set-up she was talking about, protruding from the side of the building directly ahead of them. With a growl, he released the grip he had on her hand and sped up, whole body tensing for the jump. Supernatural strength drove him straight up in the air, claws scrabbling for a grip before they wrapped around the cold steel railing. The whole structure creaked ominously as Malia landed next to him, both of them ignoring it as they struggled over the railing and down onto the platform.

"Scott," she managed to get out between gasps, as they both sat there, panting and trying to ignore their pain, "I don't know if we can take him."

"We don't need to," he muttered back, head between his knees as he tried to control his own breathing. "We just need to keep him distracted until Deaton and Lydia get here."

Grimacing, she rubbed at her shoulder and shook her head. "Will they even find us? It feels like we've run across the half the city." A hiss of pain escaped her lips as she prodded at her torn flesh, trailing off into a low growl.

Scott didn't want to agree with her, no matter how much he actually did. And he did. If his friends had completed the suppressant, and if they were currently on their way to use it, they'd still have to track them down a million alleys and side streets, so far from the bank. But he couldn't say that. He was the Alpha. He was the leader. He had to believe they could do it, no matter how much his battered body was protesting, how loudly his common sense was screaming at him to get away. Alphas didn't give up. They didn't give in. They did what they had to do.

Jaw set, Scott straightened up and reached out to take Malia's hand. She turned toward him, blue eyes meeting red and seeing the resolve burning in their depths. He didn't say a word, just staring at her until her own expression hardened and she nodded. Hand in hand, they both rose, staring down at the alley below as they waited for Coyle to reappear.

"You have some kind of plan?" Malia whispered, bumping her good shoulder against his.

"Yeah. We fight."

She snorted at that. "Good plan. What if we lose?"

"We won't."

Before she could respond again, a familiar growl rang out and they both stiffened. Eyes focused on the far end of the alley, dimly illuminated by the tiny amount of light filtering through from the nearest streetlamp. As they watched, the massive shifter's shadow appeared on the wall, slowly stalking forward.

"Ready?" Scott asked, turning toward her and arching an eyebrow.

"No." But she squeezed his hand all the same and tensed, ready to leap back down to the ground below.

"Let's do this."

o0o0o0o

"This way!"

Liam's voice, filled with urgency, echoed back to Lydia, Sheriff Stilinski, and Deputy Parrish as they followed the Beta wolf down yet another alley. The group had been forced to leave their cars back at the bank when it became clear Scott and Malia had led Coyle out of the area.

Clutching at her side, Lydia tried to keep up with the others, other hand clasped tightly around the syringe filled with the precious suppressant. If she wasn't so out of breath, she'd have been cursing the whole world for making her run after a bunch of werewolves, but she just didn't have the energy. Parrish raced ahead, the only one of them capable of keeping up with Liam, as the Sheriff kept pace at her side, his own breaths coming in sharp gasps, face flushed and sweaty.

Bursting through the end of the alley, she suddenly stopped short when she nearly ran into Parrish's back. The Hellhound was standing straight, watching as Liam wandered around the small, open area, inhaling deeply through his nose.

"They fought here," he said confidently as she doubled over and tried desperately to catch her breath. "I can smell all three of them, and some blood. I think they're close."

"God, I hope so," Stilinski muttered, slumped back against a wall, hands on his knees.

As Liam began to move toward the far end of the alley, a loud and unmistakable roar rang out, splitting the night air. All four immediately straightened up, recognising the roar of an Alpha. Their Alpha.

"They're close!" Liam shouted as the last of the echoes faded away.

Before anybody could stop him, he turned and dashed off, disappearing down the nearest alley. Parrish let out a growl and raced after him, leaving Lydia and the Sheriff to try and follow. Grimacing in annoyance, she took a deep breath and jogged after them, Stilinski grumbling under his breath as he fell into step beside her. They followed the sound of the footsteps, somehow managing to stay close enough to Parrish to not lose him in the dark as they traced his path down the empty alleys.

Lydia lost all track of time as she ran, all her energy focused on just keeping her up and moving. Her vision narrowed down to a single point in front of her face, the only sound her own harsh breathing in her ears as her legs pumped like pistons below her. The only thought in her head was the need to get the suppressant to Scott before Coyle could do serious damage to one of her friends.

Again, she was forced to stop abruptly when Parrish's back appeared in her tunnel vision. The fact that he was standing there and not immediately leaping into action scared her more than she cared to admit. Bracing herself against his back, she took a few short breaths and slowly leaned around the Hellhound, scared of what she might be about to see. It took a second for the sight that greeted her to process, but when it did, her eyes flew open wide.

Arthur Coyle was lying flat on his face on the ground, his massive form completely still. Both Scott and Malia were sitting on him, the wolf on his lower back and the coyote on the back of his shoulders. Malia had the claws of one hand tangled in his shaggy hair, ready to smash his head off the concrete if he moved, as a small pool of blood slowly expanded beneath his forehead. Both of them were eyeing Liam as he hovered around them, chattering away excitedly.

"Liam!" Scott's loud call immediately froze the Beta. "We're okay," he said, dropping his voice, but not enough to hide the exhaustion that was dripping from every syllable.

Before the younger wolf could start up again, Lydia stepped around Parrish and limped toward them, syringe clenched tight in her hand. She gritted her teeth as her sore legs protested the movement, but pushed that aside for the moment.

"Is he..." She trailed off as she approached, drawing the eyes of both her friends to her.

"Dead?" Malia lifted Coyle's head off the ground by his hair, revealing his battered, bloody face. "No. Just really messed up." She let his head drop, grinning viciously as it bounced off the pavement with a dull, wet thud. Grim amusement danced in her eyes as she looked up and met Lydia's gaze. "Concrete's still harder than flesh and bone, no matter how strong you are."

Scott snorted softly and leaned into her, nudging her with his shoulder. He flinched slightly when they made contact, immediately drawing Lydia's eyes to him. Seeing the concern on her face, he held up a hand and said, "I'm okay, Lydia. Just sore. This guy really packed a punch." Then he held out his hand. "The suppressant?"

"Do we still need it?" she asked dryly, eyes darting to the bloodied head of Coyle.

"Better safe than sorry."

As he spoke, Scott rose to his feet, moving slow and stiff. He grimaced and let out a little gasp of discomfort, but didn't hesitate to extend his hand to help Malia up. She was just as beat up, the pain clearly registering on her face as he pulled her to her feet, but stood tall next to him as Lydia moved forward and knelt next to their fallen foe.

"Deaton is sure this is going to work, right?" Malia asked as she took the cap off the syringe and looked for a vein in Coyle's limp arm. "'Cause I really don't want to have to fight this guy again."

"It'll work," she replied absently, focused on her task. Her hand was shaking a little as she brought the syringe to his arm, every muscle in her body burning unpleasantly from her unexpected and unwanted exercise, but she gritted her teeth and concentrated on keeping steady. Slowly, carefully, she stuck the needle into one of the wolf's veins, and emptied the contents of the syringe into his bloodstream. There was no immediate reaction, but given the state of the unconscious man's head, she hadn't really been expecting one.

As Parrish moved forward and helped Lydia up, she let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding and locked eyes with Scott. "There. Consider our friend here officially suppressed."

"Guess he's our problem now," the Sheriff said as he and Parrish stepped forward, both looking down at the fallen Omega. Reaching out, Stilinski put a hand on Scott's shoulder, eyes moving from him to Malia and back. "You did good here, Scott. Are you two gonna be okay?"

It seemed like a fair question to Lydia. Now that her task was done, she was able to give her friends a closer looking over, and she didn't like what she saw. In addition to their obvious exhaustion, both looked like they been on the wrong end of a mugging. Malia was bleeding freely from an ugly gash on her face, various little cuts and scrapes unevenly spread over all of her bare skin. Her shoulder looked bad, just a bloody mess with bits of her shirt stuck in it. Scott wasn't much better, with both arms covered in blood and a sizable slash in the front of his shirt. He was bleeding from a small cut over his right eye, blood slowly dripping down the side of his face.

"We'll heal," he replied, as Malia nodded in agreement.

For a second, the entire group just stood there in the cool night air and let the blessed peace, stillness soak in. It felt a little anti-climactic to Lydia, to run so hard, fight so desperately to get there, only to end up standing around like nothing was wrong. But it was a lot better than the alternative, she reasoned, eyes still looking over her wounded friends with concern.

"What now?" Liam's voice broke the stillness of the scene, drawing all of them back to reality.

"We get this guy restrained and transported to Eichen House," Stilinski replied, gesturing for Parrish to handcuff Coyle. "You kids get yourself home. Or maybe back to Deaton at the animal clinic." He looked at Malia's shoulder and winced. "You might want to get that looked at."

She waved off his concern dismissively. "I'm fine. Can we get some food though? I'm starving."

Lydia couldn't help but smile at her friend's casual attitude. She met Scott's eyes and shook her head in amusement when he winked back. "Come on," she said, stepping between the two and putting an arm behind each of them. "It's a long walk back to my car."

As the Parrish and Liam manhandled the slowly stirring Coyle to his feet, the three teenagers slowly made their way back down the alley. Lydia couldn't have moved quickly if she wanted to, but that worked just fine for the other two, neither of whom were in any hurry to stretch their sore bodies any further. Instead, they drifted along at their own pace, happy just to be done with the fighting for the night.

"Hey, I wasn't kidding about the food, guys."

AN: This is going to have a second chapter. Originally, it was supposed to be a one-shot, but as I was writing it, I found a natural split and decided to break it up. This is my first bit of fanfiction in a long time, and it feels a little clunky, but hopefully people like it. Let me know.