"I said no were-powers today!" Stiles screamed as his ball was caught. He had thought it was a particularly good shot, but Scott wouldn't give him the satisfaction. He had developed his own talents randomly during a match, been captured and helped the love of his life run over the love of her life, all in an attempt to save his best friend and the mix of mangy mutts in Derek's pack. All within a week and all he wanted to do was get some energy out, but no, Scott was having too much fun. He didn't understand why Scott didn't see Stiles the way Stiles saw him. Stiles loved his best friend and wanted to see him happy. Even momentary happiness helped Stiles know that Scott would be able to handle the crap hand he had been dealt. However, Scott had moments where he didn't seem to care the same way. He was always there for Stiles but more often than not was distracted by a problem of his own. Stiles had sacrificed his chances with Lydia, to save them all. He had kept his torture a secret so the week of hell could just end and be past them. So for Scott not to let him score, it kind of aggravated him. Deaton had encouraged Stiles to breathe and imagine what he wanted. All Stiles could imagine currently, was his last ball settling itself right between those golden eyes, and his friend landing none too gently on his fluffy wolf tail.

Stiles thought he felt a rush of wind as his arm swung through the air. Scott blinked. In that second the ball connected with Scott's forehead. Scott hadn't let the ball hit him; he hadn't realized it even happened. Stiles realized that Scott was ok only briefly after he started laughing at his friend, who was rolling on the ground in the goal. Yes, he would always love Scott for exactly who he was, but he would have to make sure Scott knew that he felt too. He helped Scott up and slapped his shoulder, which caused Scott to turn to look at him accusingly.

"I guess I just threw it harder." Stiles shrugged; glad he had lucked out for one shot. Even as quick as the shrug was, pain seared through his ribs, passing by each bruise left by Gerard.

Scotts golden eyes flared again and he twisted his head toward the woods. Stiles followed his gaze, where something was moving swiftly. After seconds of staring, a dark figure crouched low to the ground, leapt from the wood. Dark hair seemed to flow back into his arm and face as he landed crouched bracing himself with one hand. Red eyes faded briefly as the muscles in his arms softened. Derek. He stood and his chest stretched in his awkwardly tight black shirt. Stiles wanted to laugh as he always did when he saw Derek rippling with muscles, stretching some tight dark shirt to capacity. A simple smirk slid itself across Stiles' lips and vanished again when he saw Derek's eyebrow arch.

"Scott. Stiles." They had seen him only twenty four hours previously, but in that time so much had changed. Much of what threatened them had been eliminated. However, many of the positive things in their lives had gone out the window along with them.

"Derek." They said in unison, almost mocking his ridiculously formal greeting. They glanced at each other and smirked.

"You don't realize danger is never really over, do you? Why haven't you grasped that yet?" He said, letting his charisma and partiality to disaster overtake him. Derek hadn't even considered the fact they were still high schoolers and enjoyed free time as much as the next guy.

"Grasped it? We've pretty much bent over and let it make us its bitch." Stiles' mouth leapt to the occasion before he could even contemplate stopping it. Scott chuckled and Derek just stared at him, his eyes somewhere between twitching and confused. Stiles rocked back on his feet, realizing he had just smarted off to an alpha of a werewolf pack, and got away with it. Stiles knew that Derek was different, but he was dangerous, though Stiles was feeling relatively reckless lately.

"The Alphas are in town." Derek said casually.

"Yea we know, you and Peter are both alive and kicking and Alpha-esque." Stiles said with a wave. "Is this your new band name or something?" Derek's gaze wasn't piercing, there was something else. A gaze that was almost blunt, that hit with a wave of power, instead of sharpness.

"No, not just any Alphas. The Alphas. A pack made up of just Alphas." That was new. Stiles actually thought about the implications. This could be more serious than both the one Alpha, and a Kanima. They would actually need a Kanima fighting for them to make this even remotely not nerve wrecking.

"What? Why? Isn't that against the werewolf code book?" Stiles sputtered.

"Don't you two ever read? Didn't you guys have Gerard's bestiary? Didn't you read it?" Stiles and Scott exchanged looks of the prospect of extracurricular work.

"Well it was kind of in Archaic Latin, and Allison kept it." Scott said. Stiles knew he had given it to her when he was attempting to let her play both sides of the fence.

"Can you get it back? Peter and I have some information, but the Argent Hunters would have seen this as the prize of the prizes, their most dangerous hunt. They would have more than us. Most Alphas try to avoid the Alpha pack." Derek said as he looked away.

"Go brood. We'll see what we can do." Derek's head jerked to Stiles.

"Stiles…"

"What? You like to brood, you don't even wear bright colors, even your wardrobe broods." Stiles grabbed Scott and pulled him toward his Jeep. They packed their stuff as Derek stood there and stared at them. Stiles looked at Derek as he jumped in his jeep. There was a strange smirk on Derek's face, and Stiles absently returned it. Stiles gave the smallest acknowledgement with a couple of fingers as they pulled away from the field. Derek turned and walked back into the woods.

After dropping Scott off at his house Stiles drove toward his own home, thinking about a Pack of Alphas, Derek, and eventually Lydia. He had lost her for good. Jackson really did love her, and it had been no secret that beneath her vanity she loved him just as much. Stiles would have to let her go, but he wasn't sure he wanted to nor was he sure of how to. Why had she entranced him so long, what was it about her that had such power over him? Sometimes he wondered if it wasn't because she was an impossible task and he had to make himself feel like that was the reason he kept trying. Stiles pulled his hand back and punched the steering wheel of his beloved Jeep before he had even realized he was upset. Tears fell lightly down his cheek. The only thought running through his head was how stupid this all was. Maybe he should just let Derek bite him, and then he would be able to wolf out and deal with his problems that way. He felt the corner of his mouth lift defiantly, a smirk, he would smirk till the day he died.

The Veterinarian's office…

Deaton's. Sudden ideas weren't unknown to him, so it didn't surprise him when he turned the car on the next street and wove his way to the Vet. The bell jingled as he walked into the office, and the Vet smiled at him from behind the counter. A customer was just signing a check and taking what seemed to be a sedated cat home in a crate. As Stiles held the door for the lady and her cat Deaton continued to smile at him.

"You don't know why you are here do you?" Deaton spoke with a hint of amusement. Only then did he realize that he hadn't had intention or reason to come here.

"I don't know a lot of things, never stopped me before."

"Let's change that…" Deaton said, more mysteriously than Stiles enjoyed.

"You want to stop me? Or help me know things? How about a little clarification…"

"The latter," Deaton said with a small sigh and a slight bow of his head. "After the events of the past week, I imagined you coming in today." Deaton moved to the back rooms after unlocking the gate for Stiles. Stiles followed obediently sensing no threat from the generally kind man. The man had a quiet control over himself and generally any situation he encountered. Stiles admired that and would have loved to be able to have it. Deaton once told him his imagination was his weapon, his way of controlling a world he wasn't a part of. Imagination.

"You made me come here didn't you? Imagined me," Stiles said as realization struck.

"Sure." Deaton said casually. "I had hoped you would pick up on that. Imagination is where it begins, and where it ends. It's where all power comes from even your friends'. Their power, their strength, it is all because they believe it and will it to be so. The fact of the bite, the curse, it gives them access to a much deeper set of emotions. Their minds open to that power, and they believe it, so it becomes reality." He opened a cabinet and pulled out some tools he typically had out. He retrieved a dog from the kennel room, and lifted it to the table.

"What does this have to do with me?" Stiles said after letting the moments pass and the thoughts settle.

"Everything. Nothing. That's up to you." Deaton glanced at him before returning to his work. a