The Law for the Wolves Chapter 1: The Hill is a Beacon, a teen wolf fanfic

The Law for the Wolves

"Now this is the law of the jungle, as old and as true as the sky, And the wolf that shall keep it may prosper, but the wolf that shall break it must die." Scott's an alpha, Stiles an emissary, with a pack of alphas, betas, and humans around them facing supernatural threats while trying to live normal lives. Post 3a. Scallison, Dethan, Sterek.

...

I came up with the idea for this fic after season 3a was over, before we'd heard anything about 3b or beyond. It's just taken me awhile to get it down. It includes many things I wanted to see happen in a later season of Teen Wolf - I just put plot around those fun details.

This story was originally meant to be a series of one shot fics, but I've decided to post them all here at one continuous fic, since they do all connect and effect each other. Therefore, each chapter will have a summary - which I'll include as a preview of the chapter. Each chapter will be about 10K, with 6 chapters total. You can read this as a series on Archive of Our Own. Look for JessicaMDawn.

And with no further ado, enjoy!

...

The Hill is a Beacon

After the Alpha Pack incidents, Derek and Cora leave and life in Beacon Hills changes. Stiles starts training to be an emissary and deals with a father who knows about werewolves. Scott worries about his relationship with Allison and hers with Isaac. And some creature is killing dogs in town and closing in on the humans the Beacon Hills pack is so fond of.

...

The beast in this chapter is vaguely based on The Beast of Bladenboro.

...

…

"Alright, have a great day at work, dad," Stiles said as he hurried down the stairs, slinging his book bag over his shoulder as he went. "I'm gonna head to training after school, but I'll try to be home in time to make dinner."

Just as his hand closed around the keys to the Jeep, his dad called out, "Stiles, wait a minute."

He juggled the keys in his hand briefly before taking a deep breath and entering the kitchen where his dad was sitting drinking decaf coffee. The sheriff had looked both more and less stressed since being kidnapped. Stiles supposed that both were a response to knowing about werewolves.

Hey! Now you know where your son keeps running off to and why all these mysterious deaths have been happening! Awesome! But...now...you know that your son is running around with werewolves, banshees, and druids, fighting for his life and the life of the town on a regular basis and almost constantly in danger...wooo...

"What's up?" Stiles asked as nonchalantly as he could, adjusting his bag. He loitered in the entryway until his dad motioned to a chair with a tired hand wave.

Only once he was sitting did his father speak. "Look, I get that...your friends are involved in some dangerous stuff. And boy do I wish that 'dangerous stuff' was as simple as drugs or stealing," he sidetracked with a puff of breath. Stiles gave a one armed shrug. "But...I mean, do you have to go learn...," he looked like saying the word was going to cause him extreme physical pain, "magic?"

Stiles rolled his eyes at his father's whined word. Not that he didn't understand, because he did. Werewolves, kanima, druids, hunters, the darach. It was a lot to take in. But what did his dad expect him to do? Abandon his friends? No thanks, pops! With Deucalion only shortly out of the picture, and with Derek and Cora gone, and Jennifer's body missing, this mismatched pack of Beacon Hills needed Stiles more than ever. They needed everyone.

"Okay, for one, it's not 'magic'," Stiles corrected using air quotes. "It's the ancient art of the druids. And yes, that sometimes includes incantations and mixing powders and making potions and doing some rather weird but admittedly kick ass things that the uninformed public would refer to as magic. But it isn't. Magic. It's different," Stiles blabbered.

The look he got from his father told Stiles that it didn't matter what he said, he was still practicing magic.

"Well anyway," Stiles breezed on, waving his arms around a bit wildly, "think about it like this. Allison is the daughter of hunters. She knows all about guns and ammo and she's really good with a crossbow and bow and arrow and she's got all this stuff to use against evil creatures that go bump in the night, right?"

"Right," the Sheriff agreed, looking understandably lost at this change in topic.

"Yeah and Lydia, it turns out, is actually a banshee or something and her screams can bring even werewolves to their knees," Stiles informed his father. "Plus she's super smart-"

"You're super smart," his dad interjected.

Stiles took a brief moment to enjoy the pride welling up within him. Then he shook his head and kept going. "Yes. Right. But Lydia knows two different forms of Latin, that's a dead language! And she can make Molotov cocktails, though I probably shouldn't have told you that," Stiles backtracked and then sped on to distract his father from that little tidbit. "But the point is. Dad. That almost all of my friends are werewolves."

The Sheriff gave Stiles an unimpressed look. "I hadn't noticed," he commented dryly.

Stiles just nodded. "Werewolves," he repeated. "And me? I'm just a seventeen year old kid in high school who isn't even all that good at lacrosse though I've been on the team for three years. Compared to the stuff we face pretty regularly? I'm nothing. I'm almost less than nothing. I mean, at least you've got a gun," he said with a wave toward his father's waist, where his gun was holstered. "I tried using a bat and let me tell you. That did not work out nearly as well as I had planned. Like, not at all."

"Is there a point to this, Stiles? Cause right now you're making me feel worse about letting you leave the house than better," the Sheriff said.

"Ye-es," Stiles insisted. "The point is, I need some way to defend myself. As you've just noted," he pointed briefly at his dad, "me leaving the house is dangerous. If I learn these druid skills? I'll have my own form of protection against whatever baddies come into town next. Heck," he said suddenly, "I'll have protection against the normal baddies you take down every day."

For a long moment, his dad just stared at him. It was a look that made Stiles imagine his dad was picking up pieces of Stiles to check if there was any bullshit hidden underneath. And while it hurt to know his dad wouldn't think twice about Stiles bullshitting him...Stiles actually had bullshitted him for quite some time so he couldn't feel too bad about it.

At length, his dad sighed and looked away. "I suppose it's fine then."

That's what he'd said two weeks ago after Derek and Cora had packed up into a car and Stiles had first mentioned training under Deaton to him while Scott's mom had checked to make sure he didn't have a concussion.

Actually, he had had a concussion.

But that wasn't the point. And he was totally fine now, not even walking into walls or getting tired in the middle of class or anything. So maybe that was why his dad was checking again, to see if this is really what Stiles wanted and not just a side effect of being brained on his own steering wheel.

"Great! Thanks, dad," Stiles grinned as he pushed himself back to his feet. "Now, did you need anything else or-? Cause I gotta- School. You know."

Without looking at him, the sheriff waved Stiles out of the room. Stiles hesitated for the briefest of moments but it was just long enough that his dad looked up at him.

With a slight grin, Sheriff Stilinski said, "Be home by nine or I'll try cooking that casserole again."

Stiles laughed. "No. Never again," he said around chuckles as he walked for the door again. "I'll be home by nine. Promise!"

...

Going to school was still weird.

Scott kept thinking that he'd turn a corner and the twins would be standing shirtless in a deserted hallway, already morphing into one giant alpha, to attack him. But then he would catch sight of Ethan playfully tapping Danny on the nose, the warmest smile on his face, or Aiden would waltz by with Lydia under his arm as they chatted in earnest about some topic or another. Every time he saw that, Scott felt himself calm down.

Deucalion was gone. His mom, Allison's dad, and Stiles' dad were all safe. Ms. Blake was still missing, but she hadn't tried anything in over two weeks. Scott was a True Alpha now. He had a great pack here in Beacon Hills. He could calm down.

Except that Deaton had said completing that ritual would turn Beacon Hills into a literal beacon, calling all manner of creatures to this tiny little town. They needed to be ready.

"Hey, Scott, you okay?"

Allison's voice dragged Scott out of his own mind as she sat down across from him at the lunch table. She looked beautiful today. Then again, she looked beautiful every day. And wow, she smelled fantastic this morning.

A beaming smile crossed his face and a small matching smile grew on Allison's face as well. "Yeah, no. I'm great. You?"

She shrugged. "Pretty good, I suppose. I was totally unprepared for that pop quiz in Mr. Frebrise's class, but other than that. Yeah," she smiled at him again. "Yeah, everything is good."

Scott opened his mouth to keep talking but Stiles and Isaac chose that moment to sit down. Isaac took the seat next to Allison while Stiles sat next to Scott. A little pit of unease hit Scott in the gut as he watched Isaac and Allison smile a greeting at each other.

Allison had been paired with Isaac in the sacrifice ritual. And ever since...no, even before that...They'd been spending a lot of time together. Of course, it started out that way because Scott had asked Isaac to protect Allison since he couldn't do it himself, but now he was worried. Did Allison like Isaac?

"So life is kind of weird," Stiles was saying when Scott tuned back in, "without Derek and Cora here. Don't get me wrong," he hastened to add when everyone at the table gave him a raised eyebrow. "Life is a lot quieter and simpler without them here. It's just...I don't know, it's also weird."

When everyone continued to simply stare at him, Stiles began shoveling food in his mouth like it was going to disappear in four seconds otherwise.

"So," Isaac broke the strange silence. "How's that...uh, training going?" he asked haltingly. "With the...the uh...oh, forget it. With the magic," he finally just spat out in a quiet hiss.

Stiles opened his mouth and raised a hand, no doubt ready to lecture, but Allison cut in.

"You're heading to the office after lacrosse practice to train some more, right?" she asked.

Mollified, Stiles nodded. "Yeah. Deaton said he'd actually start letting me try spells and stuff now."

Now that he didn't have a concussion and a bruised rib and a sprained ankle, he meant. Scott scowled slightly, remembering how hurt Stiles had been. And that wasn't even from anything except the wind storm that had appeared as the spell Ms. Blake had cast neared completion.

Stiles knocked him in the shoulder but didn't say anything or even look at Scott while he kept talking.

"We've been covering the history of the druids and the emissaries. Now, if you thought history was boring and learning about druids would be interesting...you'd be wrong." Allison and Isaac gave him bemused smiles. "I know, I know. 'The History of Mystic People.' So interesting. But I don't know, maybe it's the way he teaches it. I keep almost falling asleep."

That might have been partially the concussion's fault. Or maybe thinking it was the concussion was the only reason Deaton hadn't quit on Stiles yet. Either way.

"Well I'm sure you'll be a great emissary to Scott's pack," Allison assured him as she picked up her sandwich. A frown crossed her features. "That is...whatever pack Scott has."

Isaac shrugged. "He's got me."

"And me," Stiles jumped in. "And you. And probably Lydia." Again he was getting odd looks. "Alright, look. We're human, but we still count. There were humans in Derek's pack before the fire, right?"

"Right," Scott agreed.

There had been humans. And even Derek had said Scott wasn't an Omega because he had a pack of his own made from humans. And he did have Isaac. What about the twins though? They had agreed to stay in Beacon Hills as allies, not enemies, but did that make them pack? They were alphas, just like Scott.

Scott smiled and shook his head. "You guys are my pack. I'm the alpha, Isaac is an outstanding beta, Allison is the nicest, best hunter I know, and Stiles is gonna kick butt at being an emissary. We're an awesome pack."

"Damn straight," Stiles quipped, lifting his left hand toward Scott while his right shoveled more food in his mouth.

Scott grinned while completing the high five. Even if this was all there was to his pack, he'd be happy with it. And with all their skills combined, no matter what beast came through town, they could handle it.

Probably.

...

A dog whined pitifully in the dark, its legs scratching futilely at the asphalt around it. And slowly, so slowly, its protests quieted until there was no sound nor movement from it. For several seconds, there was nothing, then the sound of the dog's body being dragged and dropped.

From in the dark came a figure, bent over on all fours. Its eyes glowed red in the night. When it growled, two of its teeth were revealed hanging lower than the rest and over its bottom lip like great, terrible fangs.

With a sniff of the air, it was off, back into the shadows and out of sight down the street.

...

The road ahead was empty of other cars, but the streetlights kept everything well lit. Scott cleared his throat, flexing his hands on the steering wheel.

"Honey," his mother said, "if you grip the steering wheel any tighter, you're going to break it."

It was said teasingly and Scott laughed softly, loosening his grip. "Sorry."

Melissa leaned forward in the passenger seat and looked at her son's face. She frowned. "Scott? What's wrong?"

Scott took a left and kept driving. They were only about a minute from home now and when they got there, his mom would need to get some food and then sleep after a long day of work. Getting home would also mean an end to their privacy. He took a deep breath.

"Is it Allison?"

Now Scott choked on that breath. "H-how'd you know?" he asked, refraining from looking at his mother only because the last time I took his eyes off the road with her in the passenger seat she berated him so fiercely he nearly drove the car off the road.

"Scott," she said with a gentle touch of her hand to his shoulder. "There are very few things that get you this riled up. And since the danger has passed...," she paused, as if waiting to see if Scott would correct her. When he didn't, she kept going, "...it has to be either about your father's recent visit," she said distastefully, "or Allison."

Scott let out a deep sigh and shifted his grip on the steering wheel. "It's just...I think...Maybe she likes Isaac more than me."

There was silence on the other side of the car. His mom was probably trying to piece together when Isaac, the adorable kid who was sleeping in the guest room and was quickly becoming like a second McCall son, had become a rival for Allison's affections. Maybe Scott should keep his mom more in the loop on these things from now on.

"Cause, they hang out a lot now, and she smiles real soft at him and laughs at all his jokes and...she used to do that with me," Scott admitted softly.

Quietly, his mother asked, "Does it bother you if they like each other?"

Scott frowned. "I mean...it's Allison's choice. Part of me wants to fight Isaac for her, and I guess at least part of that is because we're both wolves and that's how it's done in the wild sometimes. But...I don't want to just be an animal. And if Allison wants Isaac now...instead of me..." He took a deep breath to calm his racing heart. "Then I guess if I love her...I need to let her decide."

The house came into view and Scott shut his mouth with a click. Thankfully, his mother knew about werewolf hearing, and that Isaac was at the house, so she didn't continue the conversation. Only once he'd parked and turned off the engine did he turn to look at his mom. When he did, he saw a look of pride and warmth on her face.

She pulled him into a hug over the middle console and stayed there for a long moment. When she pulled away she was smiling. "You're the best son I could've ever asked for, and the best man I've ever met. I'm so proud to be your mother," she said, her eyes teary. "I'm sure everything'll work out the way it's meant to. And I will be right here with you the entire way."

He smiled softly at her. "Thanks, mom."

...

"Now, you remember that poem I taught you?"

Stiles rapped his knuckles on the metal examination table in front of him. "You mean that thing from The Jungle Book?" he asked.

Deaton nodded as he reentered the room. In his hands was a box with a metal clasp holding it shut. Stiles hadn't seen this box before, not in the two weeks he'd been learning history lessons from the old vet.

"Yeah. I remember it."

He wanted to demand they skip the literature lesson and move on to actual fighting stuff, but something about Deaton made him almost scared to ask.

"Alright then. Tell me the part about Hathi," the vet instructed, dragging his hands along the outside of the box.

Stiles let out a long, weary sounding scoff which earned him a hard stare from Deaton. With a groan, Stiles covered his eyes with his right hand and waved his left hand around listlessly while he tried to remember this stupid poem.

"Uh...Uh, right. Keep peace with the lords of the jungle; the tiger, the panther,...the bear. And trouble not Hathi the Silent, and mock not the boar in his lair. When-"

"That's enough."

Stiles stuttered to a stop and dropped his hands. He looked at Deaton as the older male opened the box with a flick of the metal clasp. Before he could ask why the heck he'd been made to read two lines of an old poem from memory, Deaton spoke.

"Do you know what those lines mean?" he asked.

Stiles shook his head. "No. But I'm pretty sure you're going to tell me."

The look Deaton shot him was partially irritated at his sass but also a little amused, which was an odd combination. "Indeed."

The vet opened the box, revealing two dozen vials, all capped or closed in some way, all filled with different powders, liquids, hairs, plants, and other materials that Stiles didn't recognize, except for two: wolfsbane and mistletoe. Deaton continued to speak as he slowly removed each vial from the box, setting them carefully on the examination table.

"Hathi the Silent was a character created by Rudyard Kipling to symbolize the law of the jungle. And no, I do not mean 'survival of the fittest.' That was an idea that came much later," he preempted. "Hathi represents balance in nature. That is what an emissary does. We use our skills to keep the balance of nature, whether that is by words or by fighting." He glanced up at Stiles briefly. "Your strength will be based on two things. One, by your spark. Everyone is born with a bit of this gift, the power to create...you could say 'miracles.' It is the level of connection between yourself and the world around you. Especially the natural world."

Stiles only barely withheld a scoff. He was an internet wiz, not a hiker. Granted, he spent a great deal more of his time running around outside than he ever thought he would, but he still doubted he had much of that 'spark.'

"The second is your belief. The more you believe in something, the more powerful you will become. Like when you created more mountain ash at the rave and gave it the power to entrap the supernatural," Deaton finished, just as he sat the last vial on the table. "The rest of this part of the poem speaks of the lords of the jungle and is in reference to who has power. Here in Beacon Hills, alpha werewolves have power, but so do law enforcement," he gave Stiles a look that almost felt like a wink even though both of his eyes stayed open, "and other authority figures. If other supernatural beings find their way here, they will also have a leader, one who has more power than the others."

"Like the leader of a vampire coven or the queen fairy," Stiles pitched in, leaning down to look at the vials more closely.

After a pause Deaton agreed, "Yes." He took a deep breath. "Luckily for you, the most powerful people in Beacon Hills are your best friend and your father. This will give you more credence when you face a coven of vampires or a legion of fairies." And it almost sounded like a joke, except that it really really wasn't.

"Oh boy."

"Now," Deaton began, also leaning over the vials to grab the wolfsbane. "You know what this is, I assume."

"Wolfsbane," Stiles answered immediately, surely.

A nod. "And what can you use wolfsbane against?"

"It keeps werewolves out, or can trap werewolves in, if you make a circle of it. And it's like poison to them if you shoot them with it," Stiles said.

"Yes," Deaton agreed. "But that's not all you can do with it. Today I'll teach you about the many different uses for wolfsbane, and how you can use it yourself. The more talented emissaries can do amazing things with just a handful of powder."

Stiles felt like he was starting to vibrate. Finally he was going to be useful to the pack again. He wasn't just an inconvenience anymore. He was going to be a kick ass druid dude!

...

The following night, Saturday, there was a restlessness to the air and Scott was out for a ride.

He stopped his motorcycle in an alleyway and pulled off his helmet, then took the keys from the ignition. He sniffed the air briefly and then turned to watch as Isaac stumbled to a stop in front of the bike. His hands landed on the handlebars of Scott's bike and he met his alpha's eyes.

"Find anything?" Scott asked.

Isaac shook his head. "The police are all over the place," he said. "It smells weird. Like...like a cat but...not a cat." He shook his head again, pushing away from the bike. "There was one thing though...It was really strange."

He trailed off, his right thumb under his chin as he stared at the ground by the front tire.

Scott gave an impatient shrug of his arms. "What?"

Isaac didn't quite jump, but it was obvious he'd forgotten there was a conversation going on. "Blood," he said. "There was no blood. Like, anywhere."

Now Scott gave him an incredulous stare. "None? Are you sure?"

A half shrug. "I sniffed all over. There was nothing."

Scott nodded once and slipped his helmet on. "Alright, get on. We need to go see Deaton."

Isaac shook his head. "No, I can just run."

"Dude, if anyone saw you keeping up with my bike, there'd be questions. Just hop on."

With a brief smile, Isaac maneuvered around the bike and literally hopped on behind Scott. As Scott revved the engine, he asked, "Should we get Allison or the twins?"

A shake of his head. "No. Not unless we have to. We don't even know what we're dealing with yet."

They both kicked off the ground at the same time and the bike sped off into the night.

...

When Stiles got home that evening, his dad wasn't there, even though it was after his usual shift would end. It was probable that there had been some hold up at the station and his dad would be home soon. Still, there was an odd feeling to the house, as if someone or something was or had been there, was watching him.

Stiles left his bag and keys by the door and put his hand in his pocket, where he'd slipped the vial of wolfsbane Deaton had given him. He wasn't sure how well it would work on anything but a werewolf, but Deaton had said his power came from belief. The best he could do right now is believe it would protect him from whatever he found.

Slowly, quietly, he checked the living room, dining room, kitchen, his dad's office, the laundry room, and saw no trace of anything out of place. Stiles crept up the stairs, avoiding the spot on the third step that creaked. Without turning on the lights, he looked through the bedrooms and bathrooms on the second floor. Again, nothing.

Still feeling off, Stiles walked back downstairs and to the front door to grab his bag - and his phone. With his cell in hand, Stiles made his way to the kitchen, flipping on lights as he went. Just as he flicked the kitchen light on, he saw movement at the window. He almost dropped his phone in his hurry to look outside.

There was no breeze tonight, but the bushes were shaking as someone or something hurried away. Heart beating in his throat, Stiles gulped.

'It might've just been Derek,' he reasoned. 'He likes to be a creeper. But Derek isn't in town anymore. Shit.'

The phone gripped tight in his hand started to ring and Stiles was so startled he dropped it in the kitchen sink next to him. When his heart wasn't leaping from his chest, he reached over and picked it up again, thankful that there hadn't been any water in the sink.

'Sheriff' was shining on his screen.

Clicking accept, Stiles greeted, "Hey, Dad. Something come up at the station?" His eyes flickered back to the window, watching for any movement outside. Whatever had been there was long gone.

The sounds of lots of movement came from the other end of the line.

"We've got a bit of an...odd case right now," his dad said haltingly.

"Odd case?" Stiles asked, turning from the window. Why was his dad calling him about a case? Usually he tried to keep Stiles out of his work.

"Yeah." His father's voice was quieter when he next spoke and the noise around him had softened. "We've found four dogs dead just tonight. But what makes it weird is that each one of them is thin, too thin. I had the first three sent over for autopsies and...they had no blood in them. None at all."

Stiles couldn't help the gasp that escaped him. Bloodless dogs? That definitely qualified as weird.

"Now, Stiles, does this have anything to do with...," the next word was whispered, "werewolves?"

Stiles shook his head even though his dad couldn't see him. "No. Not. No. But Deaton said the ritual we performed to stop Ms. Blake would turn Beacon Hills back into a beacon for the supernatural. Maybe...maybe something else has come to town."

His dad gave a tired sigh over the phone. Stiles could understand. Werewolves were enough to deal with, but all the other stuff that went bump in the night? Stiles wasn't even sure he was ready for that kind of stuff himself, and he'd known about werewolves for like...two years now.

"Is there any chance you won't get yourself mixed up in all of this?"

Stiles blinked for a moment and then grinned. "Not really. Sorry."

"Then at least...At least be careful, Stiles. And let me know if you need any help," his dad offered. "I'm here for you. And I always will be."

A warm feeling grew in Stiles' chest. "Yeah, I know. Thanks, dad. Listen, I should call Deaton, see what he knows. So..."

Another sigh, this one shorter than the last. "Alright. Call me before you do anything crazy, alright?"

"Sure thing. Bye."

With a brief goodbye, both Stilinski men hung up their phones simultaneously. Stiles glanced at the world outside the kitchen window once more before moving to sit at the dining table. He really really wished he had werewolf senses. If he did, he would have known what was watching him earlier. As it was he was feeling more than a little paranoid.

Again, his phone was ringing, but this time it was because Stiles was calling out instead of receiving a message. After only a moment, the other end picked up.

"What can I do for you, Stiles?" Deaton asked.

"Listen, what do you know about the dog killings going on?" Stiles jumped straight to the point.

A noise of interest made it through the line. "Only what Scott and Isaac are telling me at the moment."

Now Stiles jumped straight out of his chair. "So it is werewolf related?"

"No. It's not a werewolf. From what they've described of the crime scenes, my guess would be that this creature is a Bledan." Before Stiles could ask what that was, probably with a sarcastic comment, Deaton kept talking. "It's like a large cat, but it drains the blood from its victims."

"Like a vampire," Stiles said, glancing toward the kitchen window again, then around the visible parts of his house.

An affirmative noise. "Usually they only attack animals - dogs, cats, deer, that sort of thing. The problems arise when a Bledan decides it wants human blood. Once a Bledan tastes human blood, it will never go back to eating animals."

A breeze moved all the plants outside and Stiles grabbed a knife from the kitchen, wandering around his house with it as he listened. He'd seen whatever it was outside run off, but that didn't mean it wouldn't come back. He'd rather be prepared than dead.

"Have, uh, have any people shown up dead then?" he asked, voice a tad quieter than before.

"...No. Stiles, is everything alright?"

Stiles tried to put a smile into his voice. "What? Yeah. Everything's fine. Except, you know, there's giant cats going around eating the town dogs. Which, honestly, is pretty funny when you think about it. Cats and dogs. It's like the oldest story in the world. And we've got werewolves too, so it's gonna be like werewolves vs werecats."

For a few long seconds, while Stiles glanced out the back door and then made sure it was locked, Deaton said nothing. Stiles was heading for the living room when the vet spoke up again.

"Listen, I need to give you something to fight the Bledan with. Come to the office."

Stiles didn't need to be told twice.

...

As soon as Deaton hung up the phone, Scott was on him.

"What's wrong? Is Stiles okay?" he asked worriedly.

Deaton placed his hands on Scott's shoulders, phone held in one. "He's fine. I would just rather have him here than on his own."

"Why?" Isaac asked from where he was sitting on one of the counters. "You said these things attack humans only after they taste human blood. Only dogs are dying. So shouldn't we be safe?"

Deaton placed the phone on the counter near him and shrugged. "When we performed that ritual, we created a beacon that draws in other supernatural creatures," he said. "But, in a way, it also made those who participated in it into a beacon themselves."

Both teens just stared at him, confused. Deaton sighed like he was tired.

"The Nemeton holds magic and creates magic. By participating in the ritual, you gave it back its strength. In return, it gave you strength, of a sort. The good news from this is that any supernatural entities that come to town will focus on those in town best suited to fight it. The bad news is-"

"They'll be after us," Scott broke in, "and most of the pack is human and can't fight them like we can." Deaton's look was all the confirmation he needed. Scott's eyes widened. "Allison."

"And any other humans in regular contact with the supernatural," Deaton added.

...

The sun was long since down, but that had never stopped Lydia Martin from going shopping before and it wasn't now. She strut out of the store toward her car, her car keys and purse all that she carried. The moon was steadily rising in the distance.

"Remind me again why you dragged me along?" Danny asked, carrying three bags on each arm. "And why I was insane enough to agree?" he muttered. He could've been hanging out at Ethan's place right now but somehow he'd been roped into being a glorified bag carrier and Gay Best Friend. He hated being the Gay Best Friend. He and Lydia weren't even friends!

Lydia let out an amused huff. "Because Stiles wasn't available," she quipped like it was obvious.

Danny blinked a few times before he could come up with an answer. "Stiles? I thought you were dating Aiden."

"And you're dating Ethan," Lydia said as her car came into view. "But that doesn't mean we have to take our boyfriends shopping with us. No. When I need a good opinion on what to buy, I bring Stiles."

Lydia pressed the button on her keys and her car lit up, unlocking. Danny, one step behind her, shook his head.

"But why-"

"Did you hear that?" Lydia interrupted. She stopped walking and started glancing around, searching the mildly lit parking lot.

Danny passed her to get to her car and sat the bags on the ground so he could free up his hands. He reached for the door handle to the back seat but stopped and looked closer at the window. Or, more accurately, at the reflection. There was something on top of one of the cars behind him, closer to the street light, but the reflection wasn't clear enough to make it out. It was big though.

"Lydia," he said, voice dipped quiet in the dark.

He saw her turn to him out of the corner of his eye and caught how her body froze up. "Get in the car," she ordered in a whisper.

"Lydia, what-"

"Just get in the car," she ordered, before rushing over to him.

The car door was barely open by the time she got there but she still slid in like a breeze. Danny jumped in behind her and ripped the door shut, then looked out and at the car corner ways from Lydia's where he'd seen the reflection.

There was nothing there.

"Did you see it?" he asked, looking around outside for whatever it was. He saw nothing. "What was it?"

When there was no response from the other side of the car, Danny pulled his attention from searching the outside to turn around. The redhead was typing furiously on her phone.

"What are you doing?" he asked in a fast whisper.

"Texting Aiden," she snipped. "What else?"

Danny shook his head and pulled out his phone, pulling up his recent calls list. Ethan was at the top of the list, about a dozen times over. Just before he could hit 'call', his phone lit up with a text message alert. From Ethan.

Are you with Lydia? Are you alright?

A smile graced his lips momentarily. It dropped when a long, low scraping noise sounded outside the car.

"What is that?" he asked in a whisper, looking around rapidly. He couldn't see what was making that noise, or even where it was coming from.

Lydia wasn't saying anything. She was looking around, her expression calmer than Danny felt by a long shot. It seemed that whatever was out there, it wasn't scaring her as much as it was him. Danny looked back down at his phone as the scraping noise stopped abruptly.

In Lyd's car. sumthing outside. send help

Ethan was prone to worrying, and Danny was counting on that right now. Awhile ago Ethan had said that if anything bad happened, to find him first. Now Ethan needed to find him instead because he was trapped in the backseat of a small car with Lydia Martin while something or someone was outside, prowling.

...

It was a quiet night at the Argent household. Chris was out, meeting with friends or old coworkers or something, and Allison was in her room working on schoolwork. Her pencil scratched across the paper, leaving numbers behind that turned into equations that, hopefully, turned into correct answers.

There was a buzzing noise from across the room and Allison turned around to look. Her phone sat on her bedside table, the screen lit up with an incoming phone call. Abandoning her homework, she took a step toward her bed, then froze. Turning her head to the window, she watched as a large creature jumped onto the roof across from her window.

In the light from the street lamp, she could make it out. As big as a jaguar but with features like a caracal and a long, overly thin tail that looked out of place on a cat of any kind. The end of its tail was a sharp spike and its front teeth extended to just beyond its lower jaw. Allison watched it take two steps on the roof, heard the tiles clink under its claws. Then it looked in her window and right at her with red eyes. Its ears went back and its lips curled as it let out a low growl.

Just as it launched itself across the space between itself and her window, Allison dropped to the ground and reached under her bed, pulling out her crossbow. She looked up in time to watch the creature use its tail like the weapon it obviously was, breaking the glass in her window and beginning to claw its way inside. She loosed an arrow at it, catching the beast in the leg.

It howled and pulled back from the window. Allison took a deep breath. Her phone started ringing again. She reached for it and just had her fingers wrapped around the plastic of its case when her window practically exploded inward, giving way to the bulk of the cat.

Ditching her phone, Allison hurried from the room, crossbow in hand.

...

Stiles must've been just about halfway to the vet's office, nervously tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and darting his eyes around the road, when something hit the Jeep so hard it swerved.

"Whoa!" he shouted, gripping the steering wheel hard to try and stop the swerve. It just ended up making him spin worse and tip over on one side. His shoulder hit the door with a heavy thud and his phone hit his forehead with a loud thwack. "Ow! Sonofabitch!"

Rubbing his forehead, Stiles unbuckled his seatbelt and slid even further into the door now on the ground. He was just lucky the glass hadn't broken. But there was no doubt in his mind that his Jeep would have to go into the shop. Again.

"Stupid crazy supernatural bullshit." He muttered curses as he grabbed his phone and made to climb out the other side. "Don't they have any respect for prime motor vehicles? Nothing has ever attacked Scott's bike, noooo. Just my Jeep."

He popped the passenger side door open and held it just cracked enough so he could peer around outside. There were no giant cats attacking him at the moment, so that was good. And Deaton's office wasn't too far away. If the cats stayed back long enough, he could make a run for it. But if he was gonna run, he needed to go now while they were still holding back.

His initial movements were slow, quiet, trying not to draw attention, even though he probably already had the Bledans' attention. After all, they'd knocked his car nearly off the road. He slipped a bit jumping to the ground but caught himself on his hands and then took off running.

Immediately there was the sound of growling from not one, but multiple creatures. Stiles' heart began to pound, adrenaline helping him run a bit faster but fear causing his breath to hitch. He heard noises behind him that sounded like something or some things following him, but didn't dare look back. He didn't want to fight even one Bledan on his own and it sounded like he had several of them after him.

He darted around the corner of a building and slid but kept his balance. Stiles had always sort of felt like a pile of gangly limbs that wouldn't cooperate, like a flailing gazelle, but this was probably the first time he was seriously upset about that. Running for your life is so much harder when you're body doesn't listen to your commands!

And why were the Bledan chasing him anyway?! They were supposed to be dog eaters! Unless these had eaten a human at some point, and that would be just his luck, right? But why him?! Was it because he was studying druid arts with Deaton?

Oh. Right. Druid arts.

Stiles skidded to a stop, waving his arms wildly for a moment to regain his balance, and reached into his pocket. Uncapping the bottle of black sand, he poured the entire contents into his right hand, some of it tumbling to the ground.

"Ok ok ok, magic circle, magic circle," he muttered, throwing the ash into the air above his head as he watched two massive cat-like creatures barrel towards him.

The ash fell all in his hair and clothes and the ground around him, but not in the magic protective circle he'd been hoping for. Stiles sneezed.

"Shit. Wait!" he shouted, and, surprisingly, the bledan slowed down to a walk. "I gotta- I can- Hold up!"

The bledan had slowed down, probably surprised because he'd shouted or something, but they'd get over it in a second. He didn't have time. With another sneeze, Stiles shook his head. Then he dropped to the ground, smacking the pavement with an open palm and willing the mountain ash to protect him. There was no wind but he felt the ash sweep off his person and watched as it formed a perfect circle about five feet in diameter around him.

"Ha!" he cheered, standing up. "Who's the boss? You can't touch me now, suckers!"

The bledan growled and Stiles felt his bravado waver. The two big cats circled him but never came near to trying to cross the circle. Stiles tried to spin to keep an eye on them, but one was on either side of him, so he ended up just spinning in a circle. He had to stop so he wouldn't get dizzy and fall out of his own protective area.

Instead, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his recent calls, clicking on Scott. It only rang twice before it was picked up.

"Stiles?"

"Hey, yeah man. Look, I was on my way to Deaton's but I got stopped by some of our, uh, new friends?" he said. "Think you and Isaac could-"

"We're almost to Allison's," Scott interrupted.

Stiles turned around to face the direction of Allison's house and gulped when one of the bledan growled at him. "What do you-Why?!"

"Deaton said the bledan would go after anyone who was in regular contact with the supernatural. Allison's home alone tonight and you were already on your way to Deaton's. Are you alright?"

The ash circle was untouched and the bledan didn't seem capable of crossing it, even though they weren't a were creature. "Uhhhhhhhm...sure. Yeah. I'm fine. They can't get to me so I guess I'm...Just, grab Allison and then come get me alright?"

Scott sounded half distracted when he answered. "Yeah, sure. I gotta go, Stiles, Allison's window is busted and I think there's a bledan here."

"Yeah alright but-" Stiles pulled the phone back and growled, in his pitiful human way, at the phone when it beeped to tell him Scott had hung up. "Don't forget to come get me after!" he shouted at it anyway.

One of the bledan jumped toward him and Stiles stumbled back half a step, arms pin wheeling. The ash circle kept the beast away but Stiles' heart was racing anyway. He clutched at the fabric over his shirt and panted.

"Oh, I hope someone comes and saves me soon," he moaned in a whisper. "Gotta remember to pack a weapon on me next time. Sheesh."

...

Danny tapped Lydia on the shoulder and she looked up from her phone with an aggravated expression. He pointed to the bottom of the car door, where they'd left Lydia's shopping. Now that she was listening for it, she could hear the sound of bags rustling and fabric tearing. Her expression turned horrified, then furious. She'd just spent a good amount of money and time on those outfits and this...whatever it was, had just destroyed them. Lydia wished she had a weapon so she could kill them herself instead of waiting to be saved like some damsel in distress from a fairytale.

The glass at the bottom of the window fogged up briefly. Then the head of a large cat like creature raised up into view. It inspected the glass and then looked into the car, directly at Danny who was closest to it. Its lips pulled back in a growl, revealing all of its sharp teeth, including the long fangs at the front of its mouth. When it placed a large clawed paw on the window, Danny began to scoot rapidly toward Lydia's side of the car.

Then suddenly there were four thick scratches on the glass but the beast itself was gone, yowling in surprise. Danny and Lydia flipped around to look out the back window toward where the cat had gone just in time to watch Aiden, shirt missing, toss it several feet down the lot.

The back door on Lydia's side opened and both teens screamed. It was Ethan, looking serious. Danny clutched at his chest as his heart beat madly in his ribcage, taking a deep breath to try and calm down.

"Holy crap. Ethan," he breathed out.

Ethan's serious expression was bleeding relief. "Come on, let's get going while my brother distracts it."

He reached in for Lydia, who used his bicep instead of his hand to leverage herself out of the car. Danny gladly accepted the offered hand. They took a moment to smile at each other and then the cat beast growled angrily and Danny jumped in place while Ethan's eyes darted to his brother. He nodded.

"Ok ok, let's go." Ethan placed a hand on Danny's lower back and began ushering both younger teens away, back toward the mall.

They weaved around cars instead of running straight down the aisle, then bolted for the doors when there were no more cars to hide behind. Thirty feet from the doors, something wrapped around Danny's waist and ripped him to the ground. He shouted out when his hands and knees scraped the asphalt. Whatever had him flipped him around and Danny saw it was the cat beast. Its eyes were blood red and it felt like the beast was looking right through Danny instead of at him. A paw landed on Danny's chest, holding him still more than the tail already was. It opened its mouth wide in front of Danny's face and he braced for the death blow.

Then Ethan's fist connected with the cat's left eye and it went careening into a parked car with a startled noise. Danny felt something cut him as the tail ripped away along with the cat and looked down. His side was bleeding. Actually kind of a lot.

"Oh, oh, ah, that's not-" he stuttered.

"Lydia!" Ethan shouted as the big cat shook itself off and launched toward the twin.

Strong but delicate hands grabbed Danny and hefted him to his feet. Danny let Lydia manhandle him back inside the mall, focusing on keeping his hands on his wound even as they began to shake. Inside, they sat down in the corner, where even the stray late day shopper wouldn't see them. Lydia took one look at Danny's clothes turning red and his blood stained fingers and whipped her phone out again.

Danny tried to look out the mall doors but the angle was wrong. "Ethan. Aiden," he said, then winced and let his head flop back against the wall.

Lydia shook her head. "They'll be fine," she said with conviction, like there was no doubt in her mind. "You on the other hand..."

"But, that thing," Danny tried. That giant cat creature was out there and Ethan and Aiden, while strong, might not be enough to stop it. Danny didn't even know if Aiden was able to fight anymore.

"A caracal," Lydia stated. "It looked like a caracal. A big cat. It'll be fine." Her words were stilted. She wouldn't discuss the matter further. Then her phone was at her ear and she said, "Yes, I need an ambulance at the Beacon Hills Mall five minutes ago. My friend has been attacked by a large cat and is bleeding out."

"Oh shit," Danny breathed, shutting his eyes.

...

Barricaded in her father's study, Allison was willing to admit she was scared. As the bledan had torn after her, destroying bits of the apartment as it went, Allison had lodged three arrows in its body at various locations. Even bleeding, the animal kept coming. She had flipped her father's large desk in front of the door along with a filing cabinet and a potted plant, then set herself up in between the two sealed and curtain drawn windows, crossbow loaded in her hands and a gun on either side.

She could hear the cat's large claws tearing at the door and the wood of the desk. It was only a matter of time before the beast was upon her. If an arrow to the face, one to the neck, and one at the joint of the back leg hadn't stopped it, Allison wasn't confident a fourth arrow would slow the bledan down much at all. Gunfire would draw a lot of unwanted attention, if the sound of the bledan's growling and scratching and running hadn't already.

The table, cabinet, and plant, stuttered away from the door, scuffing along the floor, after a particularly heavy throw of bledan power from the other side. Allison aimed her crossbow and took several deep breaths to keep herself calm and ready.

From the other side of the door, the bledan growled menacingly. Allison heard it thrash around in the hallway, hitting the door a few more times with its body and its claws, and probably the blade on its tail. A gash appeared near the top of the door and she could see the light from the hallway through it, but no beast. A few more moments of noise and suddenly the door burst open. The desk skittered to the side, the filing cabinet fell over completely, and the plant flew toward the window on Allison's left.

She let the arrow fly as soon as the door was open enough to allow it. Scott reached up and caught it from the air before it could land.

"Scott!" Allison gasped, dropping her crossbow and making to stand up.

Scott barely gave her a red eyed glance before he was adjusting his grip on the arrow and then dropping to the floor and stabbing it into the bledan's neck. The creature made a horrible, wet noise of angry protest before its flailing began to calm. Only once it was dead did Isaac release his hold on it and let himself flop back against the hallway wall.

"I can't believe," Isaac panted out, "that it took two of us and four arrows to kill this thing. That's just lame."

"Scott, Isaac," Allison said as she walked around the desk and cabinet to get to the door. "What are you two doing here?"

Isaac waved to the bledan like it was Allison's prize on a game show and grinned. Scott wiped the bledan's blood from his hand on its fur before standing to face her.

"Deaton told us the beldan were attacking people touched by magic, so we came to make sure you were alright," he explained, eyes flitting around her face and body, checking for wounds.

Allison shook her head. "I'm fine," she said. "But I'm glad you came. My arrows weren't doing much at all."

Isaac shook his head. "Oh, they did plenty. It was weakened when we showed up. You did all the hard work."

Allison smiled and Scott snorted.

"Not all the hard work," the alpha said. Then he turned serious again. "I'm glad you're okay. Are there any others?" When Allison shook her head he let some of the tension seep from his shoulders. "Good. I still think Isaac and I should stay with you, at least until your dad gets home."

"I second that," Isaac agreed in a rush as he stood up, making Scott frown a bit.

Allison looked between the two of them. "I'd appreciate that. But maybe...get rid of the body first? I'll start trying to clean up a bit while you do," she suggested with a weary look around the study. "Then you need to explain exactly what's going on."

...

Meditation had never been a thing Stiles was very good at. At most he was able to sit in the stereotypical meditation position with his legs crossed and hands on his knees, but then his thoughts were wandering so much that he couldn't stop thinking and his mind was never clear. It was even harder to clear his mind while he was being circled by two large bledan monsters that kept making lunging motions at his protective circle of ash. Stiles was sitting now, legs crossed, waiting impatiently to be rescued. And he hated waiting to be rescued because it made him feel like a damsel in distress. He would gladly save himself except he didn't have any weapons on him, not even extra ash.

About every minute or so, one of the bledan would stop pacing around and would instead throw itself at the ash circle. Each time, there was a flash of light and the bledan was thrown about two to six feet away. Stiles also had a miniature heart attack whenever they did that, which might be the reason they kept doing it.

One thing Stiles noticed was that the bledan that threw itself most viciously at the circle had golden eyes, while the less active one had red eyes. He didn't know what that meant, but he had an idea.

"So," he said out loud, his voice shaking but clear, "I've got a theory on you guys. Uh, want to know it?"

A series of growls and the golden eyed bledan stopping to stare straight into Stiles eyes was his answer. He swallowed thickly.

"In werewolves, golden eyes mean you're a beta, or an omega if you don't have a pack, but that's another story. And red eyes mean you're an alpha, the big cheese, the one in charge," he rattled off. "I think the bledan are the opposite. I think red eyes are the betas, or the normal ones, and the ones with gold eyes, like you," he said with a wave toward the bledan digging at the ground in front of him, "are the terrifying ones. I think you're the people eaters."

The gold eyed bledan lifted its head, though it was still scratching out a hole. The scary part was how it seemed to be grinning at Stiles, as if telling him he was right and it was only a matter of time until he would be dinner.

"W-well," Stiles said with a cough. "That's...I sometimes hate it when I'm right. Scott!"

There was no answering wolf growl or motor sound or werewolf tackling a bledan to the ground and Stiles heaved a great sigh. Way to be a pal, Scott. Twenty minutes and there was no sign of anyone coming to Stiles' rescue.

As if on cue, there was a brief flash just behind the golden eyed bledan. Both cats turned to look at what had done that. At the same time, Stiles heard, "Stiles, catch!"

Even confused, Stiles lifted his hand to obey and caught something small in his palm. "A bullet, doc?" he asked. "But I don't have a gun!"

Deaton didn't reply. Seriously, the guy was hugely unhelpful ninety percent of the time. Stiles juggled the bullet in his hand for a moment before coming to a decision. He closed his fingers around the metal and shut his eyes. He heard another of the flash bombs land nearby but paid it no mind, focusing on the cool material slowly warming in his grip. This was a bullet and Stiles' mind was the gun. This was a bullet and Stiles' mind was the gun. This was the bullet and Stiles' mind was the gun. Now put your hand on the trigger, Stiles.

Opening his eyes, Stiles took a step forward. The golden eyed bledan focused on him immediately. Stiles stepped on the ash and broke the circle, leaving himself open to attack. The result was immediate. With a snarl, the bledan lunged at Stiles, opening its mouth wide. Stiles quickly threw the bullet into its open mouth and dropped to the ground. The asphalt against his butt and back hurt, but not as much as fangs would.

Almost before he'd hit the ground, the bledan was pinning him down. Stiles stared at it, its long front fangs less than a foot away. He listened to its heavy breaths and smelled its awful breath. Then he pulled the trigger.

"Bang!"

Instantly, the bledan jolted in place. It shuddered, stilled, and then collapsed sideways, nearly crushing Stiles' arm. Stiles rolled away and pushed himself onto his hands and knees. He'd barely managed to give his fallen attacker a proud grin when he heard another growl. He looked up and saw the red eyed bledan standing just outside of where the ash circle used to force it to stay.

"Oh, shit. Deaton! You only gave me one bullet!" he shouted into the night, not knowing where his mentor was.

"I know." Deaton's voice was right next to him and Stiles looked up to find the older man standing there, calm as if nothing was happening. "Because you only needed one bullet."

He turned his attention on the remaining bledan, his gaze cold and unnerving. The bledan tensed, stared for six seconds, and then took off running. Stiles scrambled to his feet.

"It's getting away!"

"That's alright," Deaton said. "You were right. The ones with golden eyes are the people eaters. Now that the beast leading it is dead, it and any other remaining animal feeders will disperse. Most will probably return to their normal habitats, while a few will likely be killed by hunters along the way."

Stiles could do nothing but blink. "So...so...I...I beat them?"

The smile Deaton gave him was enigmatic. "Yes. You used the bullet for its exact intended purpose and saved the town." How did he make that sound like a second place prize?

"You know," Stiles stated with a bitter frown as Deaton began collecting the mountain ash from the ground with a brush and jar, "you could have thrown me a gun with that bullet in it. Would've made my life a heck of a lot easier."

"The bullet I threw to you had a mixture of herbs in it. There was no propellant, so it would not have fired from a gun."

Stiles threw his hands up in the air. "Then why make it into a bullet in the first place?"

Deaton looked up at him. "I used a bullet casing to hold the herbs because I knew you would know how to use it."

And yeah, Stiles couldn't argue with that. He'd pretty much instantly come up with a mental image of how to use that weapon, no questions asked. Deaton being right was annoying.

But hey, Stiles was the hero. That felt awesome.

...

"So it was a...a cara..."

"A caracal," Ethan said with a nod to the teen in the hospital bed. "Yeah. One of them was found shot dead and they matched its teeth to the dead dogs around town."

Danny frowned. "So it's dead?" he asked.

Now Ethan looked mildly uneasy. "The one that attacked you isn't. It ran off." He placed his hand on Danny's shoulder for support when the human's heart jumped. "But don't worry, it and a few others were seen leaving the area. The cops already alerted animal control and wildlife services. So everyone within like, five hundred miles of here is on the lookout. By the time you're healed up, there won't be a caracal loose on the continent."

Danny nodded now, calmer. He was going to be kept in the hospital for three days and then sore and healing at home for awhile. He was having a hard time believing that what had attacked him was just a normal cat, given its red eyes and how it somehow cut him with its tail, but he would accept that answer for now. Beacon Hills was always a bit of a strange town, but it had been getting weirder and weirder for the past two years. Danny wanted to know why and what and how. The problem was he didn't know where to start looking.

"Thanks," he said aloud. At Ethan's curious expression he continued, "For saving me. And Lydia. Are you sure you and Aiden are alright?"

Ethan grinned disarmingly. "Never better. Hardly got a scratch before we scared it off."

His cocky attitude made Danny laugh, even though it made his side hurt. "You're kind of amazing, you know?"

Ethan leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to Danny's lips. "I know," he said before adding a second kiss. "But so are you."

A knock on the doorframe alerted them that Danny's parents had arrived. Ethan made to bow out but Danny kept a hold on Ethan's hand. The werewolf gave another charming smile.

"I'll be right outside if you need me," he assured with a squeeze of his hand. With a nod to Mr. and Mrs. Mahealani, he slipped outside. Immediately, he pulled his phone out and hit redial.

"So is your boyfriend okay?"

Ethan rolled his eyes at his brother's tone. "Yes. Danny's going to be fine. What's going on with the bledan?"

"We tracked them for almost fifty miles. They don't show any signs of coming back."

Leaning against the wall next to Danny's door, Ethan let out a soft relieved sigh. "And the cops?"

"Are none the wiser, the fools. That vet and Stiles did some voodoo and made it look like a normal cat. Unless someone in the department has a connection to the supernatural they aren't talking about, no one will know what a bledan even is."

His voice suggested he didn't hold the highest respect for either Deaton or Stiles and Ethan withheld another sigh. His brother really needed to learn to let go and accept that Stiles was part of the Beacon Hills pack, no matter his opinions on human pack members. If they had any chance of being part of Scott's pack, they needed to be able to accept the pack as it was.

"Alright," he said. "I'm gonna stay at the hospital for awhile. Let me know if anything changes."

Aiden let out a soft scoff. "It's not like you to get so attached so fast, brother. You might want to watch out."

Ethan glared at his phone. "Watch yourself. Who I date isn't really any of your business," he growled.

He heard Aiden let out a laugh and realized what he had just said. Amongst themselves, Ethan had never admitted he was dating Danny or that he really wanted to. Whatever. That was something else Aiden would just have to get over because it wasn't going to change.

"Have fun, Ethan," Aiden teased before hanging up.

Ethan frowned and leaned his head back against the wall, shutting his eyes. So he was probably in love - with a human. That could be a problem.

...

tbc

...

Next Time: Pack Dynamics

Another wolf pack shows up in Beacon Hills, trying to disrupt the calm the Beacon Hills wolves have managed to gain. Stiles does his first job as an emissary and Scott claims every wolf, and human, as his pack - even the alpha twins. His claim will be put to the test when new creatures show up in town unlike anything they've faced before, and they don't care whose pack you belong to.