A/N – At the risk of offending one of my most rabid fans (that's you, Emrys90 lol) I'll put Chapter 2 up today. Hope you enjoy. Thanks to everyone else who favorited and alerted and reviewed, you guys are awesome.

At first when Stiles woke up, he thought he was in a coffin. Then the smell hit him, and he remembered that he was someplace even worse.

The fucking freezer.

He tried to piece together how he had gotten here. There was school…then Jackson…then…he killed Jackson. Or did his best to try to.

He grinned wide, and it seriously felt like someone else inside him used his face to do it; someone that had just floated up from the bottom of a deep black pool…like something dead.

He tried to be scared, but forgot how to be. He sat up and closed his eyes, rubbing his face with his hands. The smell in here was really the worst it had ever been…Stiles could not remember the reek being so bad.

He heard something then…something that seemed far away and yet still loud enough to reach him. Fear ripped through him (guess he did remember how to be afraid…just not for himself anymore)…it was Isaac.

"Dad, stop it, no please Daddy don't do it!"

The sleeve over Stiles' right bicep tore, and his arm almost seemed to vibrate. His spine gave a loud ratcheting sound and the bottom of his shirt was now four inches above his waist. He shot his fist upward like a cannonball, knowing he was going to kill his hand (maybe for good) but not caring. Rage was like a river of lava, and he was swimming in the deepest part of it. There was the sound of tearing metal as the lid crumpled like tin foil. Stiles hit it again and again, and, hell did it feel good to crush something, black happiness filled him as he destroyed the box that served as his prison cell almost all of his life. When the chain finally snapped, he practically exploded out of the battered appliance.

How the hell had he gotten so strong?

Didn't matter. He had to save his brother.

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The sight that met him when he walked into the bedroom that he shared with his brother confirmed his deepest suspicions, made real his worst nightmares.

Sam Lahey was drunk, shirtless, and in the process of wrestling a terrified Isaac into a position that would help him carry out the kind of assault he had in mind. Isaac's clothing was already more than half torn off of him, and he sported numerous new scratches and bruises including a swollen eye and bleeding split lip.

"SAM!" Stiles roared at him. He was never going to refer to this thing as his father ever ever again.

Sam Lahey whirled around, pointed unsteadily at his older son and spoke in a slurred voice.

"'Ow the fuck you get outta the box? Where you getoff calling me 'Sam'? I'm your father you little shit!" Sam blinked at him a few times. "The fuck, you have a growth spurt or somethin'?"

"We had a deal, old man. Do you remember what the deal was?" Stiles said in a low and deadly voice.

Sam shook his head. "Nope, don't remember makin' any deals with no piece of shit kids."

Stiles moved towards him, and something in the way the boy was looking at him made the bigger man back up a step.

"Let me remind you. The deal was…you do whatever you wanted to me…and I'd let you, I'd cooperate…as long as you left Isaac alone. Do you remember that deal? I fucking remember it…but it looks like you forgot."

Sam grinned uncertainly. He chalked it up to the alcohol, but he was feeling more and more powerless while he looked into his son's eyes. Fuck, they almost seemed to be glowing. He picked up a nearby lamp and hurled it suddenly into Stiles' face. Stiles snatched it out of the air and in one motion threw it right back. It exploded in Sam's face, and he roared in agony. He lunged at Stiles, tackling him to the floor and punched him in the face over and over again. He did it until he was out of breath, panting heavily and grinning at the bloody mess he had made of his son's face.

"That's fixed you, you little shit. That's fixed-" Sam's voice died away in his throat.

The blood was flowing backward like movie footage in reverse. It pooled into the wounds which sealed shut before his eyes. The puffed swollen skin went down, and the discoloration faded away. When the eyes opened…they seemed to be on freaking fire.

Stiles felt his mouth crowd with new teeth…felt the sliding of thick claws push out of his fingers. He had no idea how it had happened, but one thing was obvious.

At long last…he was the monster now…and he felt a monster's joy in that fact.

Sam moved backward until he was sliding on his ass towards the nearest wall, just like Isaac always used to do. Stiles went from lying prone on the floor to standing in one move. He didn't climb to his feet…he was just suddenly on them.

"Can't hurt me anymore old man…but I think I can do a good job hurting you." His voice was getting deeper, becoming a monster's voice, just like that thing in the woods…

And now Stiles knew how this had happened.

"St-Stiles? Wha-what the hell is happening to you?" Isaac screamed from the bed.

"Go downstairs, Isaac. You don't want to see this."

Isaac looked at his monster brother, then at his monster father.

"Actually, I do," Isaac said softly. Sam gave Isaac an unbelieving look.

Stiles shrugged. "Suit yourself."

"SON!" Sam Lahey shrieked. It was the last word he ever spoke.

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The boys worked together to clean up the blood. It was not the first time they had done this kind of work…but it was the first time the blood had come from someone besides one of them.

"You're…" Isaac began.

"Yeah?" Stiles stopped mopping and looked at him.

"Taller." Isaac finished.

This was true. Stiles might even have an inch or two on Jackson now. Whatever was inside him was pushing his body to the limit of his potential. The gash on his chest was gone, the bite on his wrist was gone…everything was gone.

"That thing in the woods…" Isaac let the sentence hang unfinished.

"Yep." Stiles finished mopping and went to dump the bucket into the toilet.

"I want to be one too. Do you think if you bit me…" Isaac's voice squeaked on the last two words.

Stiles shook his head. "Whatever that thing was…it's more of it than what I am. I can't change that far. I don't think it would work. And I would never do anything that would hurt you like that anyway."

Isaac gestured down at the stained rug wrapped around the remains of Sam Lahey's body. "Do you…do you feel bad about that? I don't. I know we should, but-"

Stiles shook his head. "No, we shouldn't."

The house seemed different, smaller now. Maybe because of his new height, or maybe because the looming presence of their longtime tormentor was gone from the air. It looked fake, like the set of some spooky television show.

He closed himself into the bathroom and pulled the stained and shredded clothes off and took a long hot shower. He scrubbed himself nearly raw, trying to get something besides blood off of him, but couldn't give whatever it was a name. He wrapped a towel around his waist as he wracked his brain trying to figure out what to do next.

He sniffed the air sharply, then tore out of the bathroom.

Isaac was sitting on his bed, and he wasn't alone in the room.

A man was sitting comfortably in Stiles' desk chair. He was well dressed with dark brown hair and could have passed for a well-mannered and polite looking chap, except for the eyes. They were as dead as Sam Lahey was.

"Hello young man. I didn't mean to intrude, but I was passing by and caught the scent of about 6 pints of blood lying around outside of its usual habitat and just had to investigate. Welcome to your first day of independence."

"Who are you? I know you're the thing that bit me. Why did you do it? What do you want from me?" Stiles demanded. He knew he was no match for this thing, but he would have no problem sacrificing himself so Isaac could get away…and he would make sure this guy remembered the fight.

"Ah. My name is Peter. And I bit you because I want to use you to help me destroy some of my enemies."

"At least you're blunt about the 'using' part." Stiles was half expecting to hear some line of bullshit.

"It is pointless for us to lie to each other, the heartbeat gives it away. I don't bear either of you any ill will, though what I have in mind for you will be very dangerous."

"Why would I want to help you?" Stiles' eyes flashed gold.

Peter grinned. "Because I have helped you. I want revenge, plain and simple. Some people took my family from me. They need to be taught a lesson."

"Lesson? Does that mean you want to kill them?" The guy was nuts; the more he spoke the clearer that became. That was okay. Stiles was kind of nuts too now.

"That's the lesson. You don't get a second chance. I have assisted you in your revenge, and your delightful brother here tells me he would just love to join the club. I can give it to him…after you help me."

Stiles frowned. Despite that he was telling the truth, Stiles didn't trust the guy at all. He had gotten a very similar feeling of menace from his father, as if by killing Sam he had just made his father come back in a new form.

"You want to be careful making deals with me, Peter. He broke a deal with me." Stiles gestured at the corpse. "It ended badly."

"I'll risk it. Just this once. I can count on your help, then? As a bonus, I'll help make sure no one ever discovers this. Your house will burn tonight." Peter's smile slipped about 70 notches. "I've recently become an expert on arson, you see." Peter's eyes flashed crimson…he was furious, but not at them.

Stiles made a connection in his mind. "Shit…you're Peter Hale, aren't you?" The whole town remembered the tragedy that had claimed the lives of one of its more prominent families.

"I was once."

Stiles had no reason to help this guy, none at all…but he really liked what he had done to Sam, and wanted to do it some more. There were a few people on his list, and Peter could help train him to use his new gifts to get rid of them.

"I'll help you. But no matter what happens…you don't touch or threaten my brother…ever…do you promise this?"

Peter waved a hand as if this were nothing. "If you will cooperate fully, then by all means yes. When we are done, and if we are still alive and well, you are both free to do as you wish."

Nothing changed about the guy's heartbeat, though Stiles wasn't sure what he was listening for.

"Isaac, we'll need to get our stories straight for the cops when they come."

"Stiles…where are we going to live? We have no family or friends!" Isaac was looking around the room wildly, already wondering if it was going to be for the last time.

Peter cleared his throat. "I would be happy to take you boys in, after this is finished. It would be too suspicious to do it now. I'm sure social services will place you here in town in the meantime."

Stiles fixed his gaze on Peter. "Do you know why I killed him?" he pointed at Sam.

"I would imagine he was violent with you. There is a lot of that going on these days, sad to say. It was one of the things that led me to Turn you. I thought you would have the right mindset for the job…and I was right."

"He didn't just beat us, he terrorized us. He locked us in a meat freezer, sometimes overnight. The last time we were in it together…half drowning in our own piss." Stiles' voice got very low. "He raped me. A few times. He tried to do it to Isaac tonight. I'd…just as soon not put us in that situation again. You understand."

Something flickered in Peter's eyes. Shock…and something else. Stiles almost thought it might be guilt…but that was insane.

Peter reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a worn photograph. It was some kind of family gathering, a bunch of adults and not a few kids all smiling up into the camera. The face of one of the girls was worn through, as if Peter had rubbed his thumb over the spot for hours on end.

"I won't say that I've never hurt a member of my family…but what I did was out of necessity, and it was mercifully quick."

"Think you might ever hurt us out of necessity, Peter?" Stiles waited for his response.

"I sincerely hope not," he said simply.

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The two boys watched the only home they had ever known burn to the ground. Whatever that weird chemical was that he'd poured all over the place made the fire burn hotter than Hell. The fire hoses did nothing to dampen the flames, and soon there was nothing left but charred timbers and ash. Stiles looked around half-expecting to see Jackson standing there gloating, but then remembered that he had given the blond an extended hospital vacation. Maybe Mr. Whittemore would come out and pick a fight…Stiles almost hoped so, though Peter had cautioned him about displaying his powers openly. There were Hunters in town, and they looked for stuff like that…they'd probably be suspicious about the fire. The boys needed to lay low until they could be safe.

"So, young Stiles, we meet again. And this must be Isaac."

Stiles had smelled Sheriff Stilinski step up behind him. The heightened senses were a kick. Stiles screwed up his face and tried to make himself cry. Nothing happened. He smeared some of the soot on his hands down his cheeks so that it looked like he already had. He would go for 'shock'. Isaac actually was crying, but he did that a lot these days, sometimes for no reason.

The Sheriff took in Isaac's battered face and body and whistled softly.

"You boys have anyone we can call?" he asked gently.

They shook their heads.

"Well let's get you into the ambulance, and we can talk some more tomorrow. Social Services will be sending someone up to speak with you as well."

They walked off.

"Stiles," called the Sheriff when they were almost there.

"Yeah?" he called back.

The Sheriff looked from the house to the boys…then to the body bag that contained the burned remains of Sam Lahey.

"Nevermind. Get a good night's rest."

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The boys were given beds next to each other after Stiles made it clear that his brother was not leaving his sight. The hospital staff looked at his grim expression and decided not to push the matter. Lucky for them.

Scott's mother came in, and it looked like she'd been crying. She hugged Stiles (awkward to the max) and planted a kiss on his forehead. She did the same to Isaac, and Stiles watched his brother throw his arms around her and squeeze her tight. Stiles bit his lip. Sam's abuse had not gotten to Isaac as deeply as it had Stiles…it would have with time, but Isaac was still able to feel things…good things. They had known Scott's mother for years (and the nurse was responsible for more than a few calls to Social Services when their frequent visits to the hospital aroused her suspicions) and liked her. A year ago Stiles was much closer with Scott (before he became girl-crazy), and he even had the brothers over for lunch one Saturday. The normal meal with (relatively) normal people was a surreal experience. Sam Lahey broke Stiles' arm when they got home because he forgot to restock the fridge's beer supply from the basement, and Stiles forgot about Scott for a long time. When he was out of the hospital, Scott had made other friends. Neither boy made much of an effort to reconnect.

Melissa came to tell him that according to the tests on Stiles, he seemed to be in the peak of health.

"That's really odd," Melissa said, looking at his chart.

"What?"

"I thought I remembered you having a tonsillectomy, so I checked your records and I was right. They seem to have grown back."

Stiles felt a chill go through him.

"Is that normal?" he asked, trying to sound mildly curious.

"It does happen. I had a cousin who grew just one back. You also grew back your upper right second molar. Supernumerary teeth are rarer than winning a lottery."

Stiles had almost forgotten when Sam had knocked the tooth out of his head two years before. Stiles hadn't done anything at all that day. Sam just felt like hitting him. He debated telling Melissa it was an dental implant, but figured it would take her two seconds to discover the lie.

"You'll probably be released soon. Isaac on the other hand," she said turning to face him. "will be staying with us a few weeks. How do you feel?"

"Fine, ma'am," he said, averting his eyes. He barely made eye contact with anyone besides Stiles anymore.

"Oh, don't you 'ma'am' me. Call me Melissa. I'll leave you two boys alone…try to get some rest. I'll have some food sent up for you, then get some sleep."

Stiles grimaced. Hospital food (of which he was a connoisseur) was the only thing worse than school food. He was very surprised when Scott walked in with a steaming paper sack from Burger Barn. The bottom dropped out of Stiles' stomach, and his mouth watered…literally.

"Hey guys. My mom had me bring this up, she figured you could do better than that cardboard they pass of as Salisbury Steak. She would have sent something home-cooked if she weren't working." Scott passed both boys a ½ pound cheeseburger with ketchup, with sides of greasy onion rings and curly fries. Stiles wondered if he'd died and gone to heaven.

Scott gaped at them while they wolfed down their burgers, belching hugely and laughing about it after. He tossed them some Cokes from the vending machine to wash it down.

"Scott, tell your Mom she is my absolute hero." Stiles sighed contentedly before settling back down into his pillows. He never realized how high a good meal could get you. Isaac looked pretty blissed out too.

"Hey, Sty…sorry about your-"

Stiles glared at him. "Don't worry about it."

Scott swallowed nervously, suddenly realizing that for two teenagers who had just lost their father and their house in a horrible fire, they were coping with it remarkably well.

"Okay. Goodnight then." He left the room.

When Stiles was sure they were alone, he sat up and tried to pull Isaac's attention away from the Aquaman cartoon he found on the television.

"Isaac, how the hell did I wind up in the freezer after Peter attacked me in the woods?"

"I got to the house and brought Dad. I kept screaming he needed to call the hospital…that's when he split my lip. Even though there was blood on you, he couldn't find any wound…he thought I made up the monster to cover up what you did to Jackson. But when he still couldn't wake you, he put you in freezer because he…because he wanted to…"

"I got it." Dull rage pulsed through him again…and he wondered if he would ever get to sleep.

"I thought you were going to eat Dad…but you just tore him up."

"I don't want any piece of that bastard inside me. There's enough of him in there already." Stiles growled.

Eventually, Isaac fell asleep to the cartoon, and he had a look of peace Stiles hadn't seen in years.

Stiles pulled the cover up and rolled over on his side. He held his hand up and stared at it

"Come on out," he whispered. Obligingly, his fingertips throbbed as the claws emerged. "Go away," he told them. They pulled back in.

He made the fangs grow in his mouth then, exploring them with his tongue, feeling their sharpness. He pressed his thumb against one of their sharp points and looked at the bead of blood that welled up…before being pulled back in. It was almost too much to take in. Stiles had never felt so powerful in his entire life. Then there were the internal changes…how much better he could see, smell and hear…the strength and energy that was like a fountain within him…it seemed odd that he had been so afraid of his father, of the other kids…of everything. It all seemed so ridiculous, like being afraid of the Easter Bunny.

He wanted so badly to share this with Isaac…if…no, when…Peter kept his word and turned his brother, then they would be so GONE from Beacon Hills. Stiles would become an adult and be able to care for him legally…although Isaac would be a little badass motherfucking werewolf too…maybe Stiles could relax and not have to hover over him so much. The kid deserved a real life…hell, they both did…one that was far away from here.