A/N: So I'll typically try and get a chapter posted every week, hopefully each Wednesday.

Unlike TLC, which I described as being set in a world called "fuck you season 3," this fic will incorporate certain aspects that were introduced in the third season. For example, Scott's tattoo. However, don't hold your breath waiting for the Alpha Pack, the Darach or the Nemeton to show up because they will be decidedly absent.

Also unlike TLC, which was comprised almost entirely of POVs from Jackson, Derek and Allison, this fic will have at least one POV for every central character.

Chapter 2: The Cycle Begins

"Just when you think that you're in control,
just when you think that you've got a hold,
just when you get on a roll,
here it goes, here it goes, here it goes again,"
—OK Go, Here It Goes Again

Allison, Scott, Lydia and Stiles sat on the couches in Scott's basement, not saying or doing much. It had been half heartedly suggested that they watch a movie, but no one really felt like it.

"Guys, come on," Stiles said. "We had to, alright? You know we did,"

Allison nodded. "Stiles is right, they... they were killing people. And they wouldn't have stopped,"

"They made it pretty clear they weren't willing to listen to reason," Lydia said, pursing her lips.

Scott shook his head. "It wasn't right..." Out of all of them, he seemed the most upset by what had happened, even though Allison was almost sure he hadn't actually killed any of the Aluka himself.

Allison bit her lip, and put her hand on his shoulder. "The thing is... I think it was right," She said quietly. He looked at with a strange mixture of emotion in his eyes: hurt and fear, but also a strange hopefulness as well, as if he what he really wanted was for her to reassure him that what they did was okay. "It wasn't a good thing... but I think it was the right thing," She said.

Scott looked away again. "Maybe..." He said. "I just can't shake the feeling that there was something we could have done differently,"

"We didn't exactly have a lot of time to come up with a plan," Lydia said, glancing sideways at Stiles. "Since you and your buddies Erica, Boyd and Jackson executed your own without telling us,"

"Aw, come on, we did what we had to do!" Stiles objected. "How long were we gonna sit around debating over how to solve the problem, while every day we waited more people died," He shook his head. "I'm sorry we lied to you guys, but I'm not sorry about what we did. Allison's right, it was the right thing. The only thing,"

Scott furrowed his brow. "You don't know—"

"Scott shut up," Lydia said, her eyes going wide. Scott frowned, looking at her. They all recognized that look on her face. No one said a word.

Over the last year, Lydia's banshee powers had grown. Everyone had helped her hunt down information on banshees, and they'd talked to everyone they knew who might have something to offer. Scott had talked to his boss, Jackson had talked to Derek, and after what seemed like a lot of begging on Jackson's part, Derek had even talked to his uncle, Peter. It had actually been Peter whom they'd received the most helpful information from, in the form of some very old scans of a book called "An Leabhar de Sídhe." When she'd given the scans to her, Allison had been tempted to tell her it was from Derek... but she knew she'd done enough lying to "protect" Lydia for a lifetime. Even if it hurt her, Lydia deserved all the information.

Through the book, Lydia had learned all about the history of banshees, how their powers worked and how she could utilize hers to save lives. She had practiced and learned to hone and control her powers, instead of them controlling her. No longer did she find herself drawn to strange places to discover fresh corpses, now she had enough control of her abilities to sense a death before it happened, and get there in time to stop it.

Allison watched as a pained expression came over Lydia's face, as she concentrated on her vision. "She's all alone... she's afraid. There's two of them... two..."

"Two what?" Allison pressed.

Lydia shook her head. "I don't know, I can't see—her fear, it's too strong..." Lydia closed her eyes, and pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's gone,"

"Where is she?" Scott asked, already standing up. "Do you know?" Lydia's powers sometimes acted in cryptic ways, and she couldn't always decipher a location from her visions.

"I'm not sure, I saw a sign in the background—it was neon blue, and said SUBJECT ZERO," Lydia shook her head again. "But I have no idea where that is,"

"We do," Stiles said, grabbing his coat from the coach. "That's where Scott got his cool new ink," He said. Stiles had made it clear on more than one occasion that he wasn't a fan of the tattoo Scott had gotten about a week before the Aluka attacks began.

"It's in the bad part of town," Scott said, ignoring Stiles' jab.

Allison furrowed her brow. "And that's where exactly?"

Stiles nodded. "Yeah, I mean I know where it is... but do we even have a good part of town?"

"Point taken," Scott said. "Let's go,"

It was late into the night, or very early in the morning, depending on your perspective. Derek couldn't sleep. In the bed beside him, Jackson was having no such problem, and was asleep on his stomach with his arms splayed out across the bed, legs tangled in the sheets. Suddenly needing to touch him, Derek reached over and gently ran his hand over Jacksons back. Jackson stirred slightly in his sleep, but did not wake up. Derek was almost sorry that he didn't... He realized he wished Jackson was awake to tell him he was being an idiot, worrying about nothing... Tell him that everything would be fine, and that he needed to get some friggin' sleep.

If someone had asked Derek what he was worried about, he doubted he'd be able to tell them. The truth was, it was nothing... And everything. He'd been rattled by what happened with the Aluka... Jackson being captured, putting himself in so much danger. And Erica and Boyd along with him. They were idiots, all three of them... But he knew that as much as he was angry with them, he was also a little bit proud. They'd all come so far in such a short time, turning from scared kids with too much power to protectors, fighters. But just as the anger was mingled with pride, the pride was mixed with fear. Every time they went out to fight, Derek was afraid for them. And part of him wanted to stop them, stop them all and tell them it was enough. No more fighting, no more trying to save everyone. Just focus on saving themselves.

But he couldn't do that. He'd made the decision to turn them all, and now that they wanted to do some good with the power they'd been given, how could he stop them? How could he tell them just to be selfish, like he had been all those years? No, he couldn't.

He wished Laura was here. Wished he had someone to guide him, tell him if he was making the right decisions. He wished Peter wasn't insane, wished he was the way he used to be. Cocky and immature, sure... But good. Deep down, his uncle had known what was right. But the fire had burned all of that out of him, and the person that was left behind was not one Derek recognized.

Derek gritted his teeth. It always came back to the fire. The fire had ruined everything. Both his sisters were dead because of it, his uncle driven mad... His parents, gone. Every cousin burned up, a family destroyed.

Part of him knew it was true, that this was the reason he'd been so keen to build a new pack. It hadn't been a pack he'd wanted, it was a family.

Jackson stirred again, rolling onto his back and moving closer to Derek. Derek put his arms around him and pulled him close, feeling Jackson relax against him.

Derek held Jackson tightly, as much to comfort Jackson as it was to comfort himself. And he wondered if maybe it wasn't so impossible he had managed to build a new family. A family of broken and scared kids, just like him.

Lydia was screaming. They were almost at the tattoo parlour but every single one of them knew they were too late.

The scream ended abruptly as Lydia regained control of herself. In its place was a terrible silence.

"God damn it," Stiles said, banging his hand on the steering wheel. "Fuck,"

"Maybe whatever did it is still there," Allison said. "If we hurry we can still stop them, before they have a chance to kill anyone else,"

In the passenger seat, Scott nodded. "Yeah, that's a good idea," he said. He sounded sober, but sad.

"I... I'm sorry," Lydia said. Allison turned to her, almost frightened by the smallness of Lydia's voice. Lydia Martin was not supposed to sound small, not ever. "It's my fault... If I'd had the vision sooner then we—"

"Lydia, stop right there," Stiles said, glancing at her in the rear view mirror.

Scott turned around in his seat. "If it hadn't been for you, we wouldn't have even known anything happened until it was on the news."

"We weren't fast enough to save her, but if we catch whatever's responsible we can save a lot more lives," Allison added.

"You've got a crazy intense power Lydia, and the fact that you've learned control it as much as you have is nothing but amazing," Stiles said. "Don't think for a second that you did anything wrong,"

Lydia shook her head, obviously not convinced. "I need to try harder, need to learn more,"

Allison put her hand on Lydia's shoulder. "It's not a science, Lydia. You can't make these things work perfectly, you know that. You're doing your best,"

"Well it's not enough!"

"You—"

With a screech the car skidded to a halt, and they all lurched forward slightly. Allison was about to ask why they'd stopped, but then she caught sight of the neon blue sign that read SUBJECT ZERO. They'd arrived.

They exited the car without further discussion. Allison spotted the body laying on the curb, half hidden in the shadows. Two figures were hunched over her. Her killers.

Allison pulled her bow off her back and notched an arrow, sending it flying at one of the hunched figures. The figure moved fast, catching the arrow before it hit. Allison had anticipated this, and after after another second passed the arrow exploded in the figures face. They were knocked backwards, and their companion moved after them. A moment later they were on their feet again, and Allison saw a pair of blue glowing eyes staring back at her.

"She's like us," Scott said, moving to Allison's side.

Both figures stepped into the light, and Allison was surprised to find they were young girls. They couldn't have been any older than she was. One was dark skinned and had long braided hair. She looked human, but Allison couldn't have been sure. The other was fully shifted, and had fair skin and the bright blue eyes that Allison knew marked a killer. She was hunched over slightly, claws out and clearly ready to attack.

Scott stepped forward. Before he had the chance to say or do anything, the eyes of the first girl turned blue. Not like a werewolf, where the iris changed colour. Instead the girls entire eye began to glow and pulse, the same bright neon blue as the sign of the tattoo parlour.

Slowly, the girl lifted a hand up and pointed to Allison. "She's one of them," She said, her voice softer than Allison would have expected. Despite the softness, Allison could hear anger in her voice.

"Excuse me?" Allison said, surprised. "One of who?"

The werewolf growled, and barred her fangs. Then she lunged straight for Allison.

Before Allison had time to draw an arrow from her quiver, Scott intercepted the girl and threw her to the pavement.

The second girl charged forward, coming at Allison with a hunting dagger.

Allison blocked her attacked and shoved her off, giving her time to reach for the knife around her ankle—a V-42 stiletto.

The girl came at her again, quickly and with brutal force. While she was clearly not a werewolf, it was apparent she'd been trained in fighting. Every move she made was deliberate, calculated and well placed. Allison was having a hard time keeping up with her, although so far she was holding her own. Neither of them had drawn blood yet, but Allison was sure her opponent would not waste an opportunity if she was given one. Allison intended to make sure she wasn't.

The fight went on, fast and merciless. In another circumstance, Allison would have admired the girl. She moved with a vicious grace, and fought with everything she had. Her skill was incredible, and her rage was evident.

As the girl blocked another of Allison's attacks, her eyes began to glow again. She put her leg out and rammed it into Allison's stomach, knocking her back. Allison managed to remain on her feet, but when she went to attack again she saw the girl retreating.

"Time to go," Allison heard her say to her friend. The werewolf girl shoved Scott off of her and pushed Stiles, who had been standing there with his bat ready, to the ground. Then the pair ran off.

"That was weird," Stiles, muttered, picking himself up. He reached out a hand to Scott and pulled him off the ground as well.

Scott nodded. "Why'd they run?"

"Maybe they sensed we were just about the kick their asses," Stiles suggested.

Scott frowned. "I hear something..." He muttered. "Sirens,"

"We have to go," Lydia said, stepping up beside them. She typically hung back in a fight, as her powers didn't give her any sort of physical advantage. She was training with Allison to learn basic fighting skills, but she was still a beginner. "Stiles, if you're father catches us hanging around another dead body, we're going to be in trouble,"

Allison agreed, Over the past year, they'd all been caught by the sheriff in various compromising places. None of them could afford another. "Let's go,"

Stiles nodded, and yet did not move towards the car. "Just a second," He said, running over to the body. "We need to examine her, see how she died—" He stepped into the shadows and stopped. Then he turned around and walked back over to them, looking paler than usual.

Scott raised an eyebrow. "Done your examination already?" He asked. Stiles was usually pretty thorough about that sort of thing. "Remember, we can always get a second opinion from my Mom later,"

Stiles nodded slowly. "That's uh, a good idea," He said hoarsely. "But I think I know the cause of death," He swallowed. "She was kind of missing something I'm pretty sure you need for living,"

Lydia raised her eyebrows. "What?" She asked.

Stiles grimaced. "Her brain."