we are what you created

by Eclipse Wing

They were meant to come together, meant to work as a pack on this. It wasn't meant to turn out this way. [or: in which things are actually going okay, right up until the alpha pack decide to interfere.] Part 3 of my both!bitten AU

4. Part 4

"You know I never really thought what would have happened if you hadn't believed me, back when I told you I was a werewolf."

"Stiles, you came home stinking of blood and your eyes glowed bright blue - you think I could just ignore that?"

Stiles slumps down on his sofa next to his father, shoulders rolling in a shrug. His dad peers over at him from where he's sitting at his desk with his glasses on, "I didn't want to tell you," he mumbles into his sleeve. He hopes his father can't hear but the moment he's said it and his dad looks sharply towards him he knows he can't take it back, "I didn't want to drag you into any of this. It's dangerous and I… I thought I could handle it."

"You're sixteen," his dad drops the paper and files he's perusing, "Okay, so you turned seventeen since, but at the time you were sixteen. You shouldn't have been going through any of that. In fact I'm still in half a mind to find Peter Hale and stick a bullet through his eyes."

"Woah," Stiles shouldn't be surprised at his dad's bloodthirsty reaction but he still is. He hastens to reassure his father, "It's okay. Lydia will be the first to Molotov him if something goes wrong, but at the moment he's actually being helpful."

"I thought he manipulated her into resurrecting him?"

"I think it might have something to do with Lydia being a banshee?"

"Oh, of course, banshee. Obviously."

"She asked Peter."

"Of course," the Sheriff says again, running a hand through his hair, looking down at the files. Stiles blinks, but he can't make them out from the angle he's sitting at, although from the worry in his dad's scent he thinks he already knows the problem.

"Did they find another body?"

His dad nods, lips pressed together.

"A healer?"

"Another doctor," his dad shoves his chair away from the desk, heading over to the sofa where Stiles is curled up and perching on the end, "Throat cut in and asphyxiated, but no ligature marks on the neck. It turns out that was because they were being hung from their wrists. With your arms above your head it makes it difficult to breath. Even more so with your full weight pulling you down and it means you have to physically pull yourself up to breath. After a time they obviously couldn't manage it."

"Where did you find it?"

"Why so curious? I mean, beyond the fact you're investigating into my murder cases because they're supernatural sacrifices? I really don't like you getting involved in this - we've already got half the state including the FBI coming in on this."

Stiles doesn't have the maps or pictures to explain with, but he knows his dad will follow along anyway. In a stray thought he wonders what his mom would think of all this - of the supernatural and him being a werewolf and- "Telluric currents," he says, "All the bodies have been found along the telluric currents."

His dad stares at him blankly. "That means what?"

Stiles shrugs weakly, "We're hoping that with that and Lydia we should be able to predict where the next body is, and maybe we might be able to get there in time."

"Banshee?"

He nods, "That's what Peter implied."

His dad sighs, looking unhappy with that. "I'd rather know, Stiles," he says. Stiles can't pretend he doesn't know what his father is talking about. He remembers his dad's earlier question. "Despite what you did… no - what that monster made you do - I'd always rather know."

"I did do it, though," Stiles whispers, "Doesn't that make me a monster too?"

"Oh, Stiles-"

He flinches away from his dad's hug, because he doesn't deserve it. He can try and pretend that he made an attempt to stop Peter. He had tried to get the former-alpha to see reason but in the end he hadn't argued.

He'd do the same, he thinks. If it had been his family he'd do the same, even now, no matter how bloody it would end up.

He doesn't tell his dad this, and his dad doesn't ask. He just reaches out and rests one hand on Stiles' shoulder, repeating his answer, "Don't leave me out of the loop," he says, "I'd rather know. I don't know how I would have managed half of these supernatural crimes if I didn't know. Besides - I would never have found out about Malia and you would never have saved her."

Stiles smiles, "I guess one good thing came out of it."

"I don't know if it's good," the Sheriff scoffs, dropping his hand from Stiles' shoulder and leaning back, "I bought a spare toothbrush for her when I was shopping the other day without even thinking about it. I think she's moved in and I don't even know when."

They pause for half a second as Stiles tilts his head, listening to the upstairs floor, but there is nothing there. Not yet, at least.

"You should make her a key," the Sheriff shrugs, "I know she's having problems with her dad and if she wants to crash here she's welcome to."

"Oh…" Stiles bites his lip, "I uh…"

"Stiles…"

"I may have already made her a key? I was trying to explain why she shouldn't use windows and I just…"

"Happened to make her a key. Why am I even surprised anymore?"

---

She finds the body.

It's really not surprising by now.

Allison looks like she wants to wrap her arms around Lydia and keep her safe. Scott just has this desperate look in his eyes that grows worse and worse every time she sees him, like the whole world is on his shoulders.

He's a seventeen year old boy.

No seventeen year old should look like that.

Stiles is past that. He's just tired and world weary, "So, banshee, huh?" he asks her as the cars pull up, "Where's the body?"

She gives a half-shrug, "I was at home," she says. At home, surrounded by books and research and- "And then I was driving. When I pulled over I realised I was at the school so I… I called you."

"The school is on the currents," Allison says. Nearby Malia has a map out and she looks like she's about to mark the point when she pauses.

"So is the body actually here…?" Malia frowns, "Where is it?"

"You haven't actually found the dead body?" Stiles exclaims.

"Not yet."

"That sounds ominous," Scott can't help but say, "Like horror movie ominous."

Stiles throws up his hands, "Lydia - you're the one who is meant to find the dead body! You're the one with the-" he waves a hand, not knowing what to call it.

She shakes her head, adamantly. If she's going to do this, she's not going to do it alone, "Nu uh. I'm not doing that again. You find the dead body from now on."

"How am I meant to find the dead body when it's your job to find the dead body?"

"You think I want to be the one finding the dead body all the time?"

"We can try to see if we can smell the dead body," Malia suggests, helpful coyote that she is. Lydia shoots her a thankful smile.

"Uh… guys?" Scott's voice drifts up from where he's moved closer to the school, staring at something, "I found the dead body."

Lydia thinks that they've used the phrase 'dead body' far too much for it to make any sense any more. The words have lost meaning but the visceral image seared under her eyelids of the female deputy, pinned down on the school sign will always define it better than a dictionary ever could.

---

It wasn't meant to be like this.

Lydia's meant to be getting there before the bodies are dead.

Allison is on the phone to her dad. Or Isaac, since apparently her dad knows way more than he should about everything. Stiles is talking to his father and Lydia doesn't even flinch when Scott wraps one arm around her. "We'll work it out," he promises her, "Banshee or not, you've got us."

It's reassuring. It's what she needs to hear and she cuddles into Scott's warmth, "What are they saying?" she asks Scott, gesturing to the Sheriff and his son.

"They bringing the-"

"You can't bring the FBI into this, okay?" Stiles has actually moved the conversation back into audible range, "Not something supernatural like this!"

"There is protocol for this that I have to follow," the Sheriff hisses, "Don't tell me how to do my job, Stiles. Whoever this is - alpha werewolf or dark druid - they won't get away with killing one of my own deputies."

"This was Tara," Stiles sounds small. Like a child, "She used to help me with my math homework when I had to wait for you at the station. She… none of us are going to let this go unpunished…"

"Does this mean we're killing them?" Malia whispers in what is no way a whisper to Scott.

"No," Scott and Lydia correct her in unison.

"They've murdered people," Malia points out pragmatically.

"It just leads to more violence," Scott explains to her, "An endless cycle of revenge…"

"Like Peter," Malia says, and Lydia's stomach twists. Scott nods, but he doesn't get the meaning behind the words. He doesn't get why Malia suddenly looks so determined to be doing the right thing.

He doesn't get why Malia is so determined not to be like Peter, but Lydia does.

She meets the coyote's brown eyes for a moment before her attention is distracted by Stiles and the Sheriff's growing argument.

"We're three steps ahead of the department… and even lacking answers we're still closer to this than you."

"I can't pull out of this case, Stiles."

"Can you keep them off our backs?"

"So you can do investigating on your own? No way."

"Dad, if the pattern is right then two more people are going to die. And soon. And from the looks of it - guardians are coming up and I…" his voice wavers, "I don't want you to be in danger, dad. I can't lose you too."

It's the 'too' tacked on the end that makes Lydia want to look away. She feels like she's intruding.

The Sheriff gives up the argument, looking around at the five of them, "Try to stay away from the crime scenes. The more tips you call in, the more it looks like you know more than you should. Which you do… but…" he pauses, gaze resting on where Malia and Allison look like they're constructing a murder map, and just sighs, "Please just go. I don't want to have to arrest any of you. This is a big enough mess as it is."

"This might become a thing," Lydia warns him.

The Sheriff's reaction is the same as his son's, "Banshee?"

She answers with the same half-shrug.

It's as good an answer as any.

---

"You know if I had a month it still wouldn't be enough time for me to name all the reasons that this is a bad plan."

"Do you have anything better?"

Stiles looks at him. He looks tired. It's how Scott feels.

It's like the world is crashing down around him.

With a sigh his friend throws up his hands, conceding Scott's point, "No. No I don't. But it doesn't mean I like this one. What makes you think they know anything more than we do? If they did, don't you think they would have stopped this Darach by now? They just want to use you. Use you up and spit you out broken at the other end. It's what Peter did to me, it's what Gerard almost did to you before."

Scott is about to reply but Jennifer Blake chooses that moment to walk past. Their conversation halts as they spend the next few seconds pretending to do work before she stops across the classroom to help a student with something.

"They're after the alpha pack, right?" Scott asks, voice eager, "So they must want revenge for something. The alphas killed their packs… The werewolves, at least… but maybe they didn't kill their druids."

"You mean their emissaries? Didn't they kill their emissaries? I thought we established this."

"But what if they didn't?"

"They might not even have had emissaries. I mean… you don't have one."

"I'm not an alpha."

Stiles narrows his eyes and doesn't answer, "I guess Deaton is sort of your advisor in regards to things-"

"Are you kidding? He was the Hales' emissary. And his advice is cryptic - yours is often better than his."

"I'm a werewolf. I'm in your pack."

"Lydia?"

"She's a banshee. Or something."

"There's no rule that says banshees can't be emissaries," Scott argues, and behind him Lydia looks mildly appreciative of him.

"She's not a druid," Stiles argues, shooting her an apologetic look.

"She's our advisor. You both are - our planners, our thinkers, you work everything out."

"Then why can't we work this out? That's what I'm meant to do, isn't it? Work it out? I always work it out but I… I can't do this."

"I think you have," Scott whispers.

"You mean their emissaries?" Stiles frowns, "Haven't we already been through this idea? I came up with it, if I recall correctly."

Behind them Lydia rolls her eyes, "Well I hope you discounted it because they killed their whole packs. Including their emissaries."

"How do you know?" Stiles sneers, "Did Aiden tell you?"

"Logic," she shrugs.

"But what if they didn't?" Scott presses, "What if Stiles is right? What if the Darach used to be an emissary to one of the alphas?"

Both Stiles and Lydia turn to him. "I think…" Lydia says slowly, "I think that's the weirdest sentence that I've ever heard you say. And since we've become friends a lot of weird topics have come up in conversation."

"Does it matter?" Stiles hisses, "There is no way to check… is there?"

As one he and Scott turn to Lydia.

"Oh no," she says, "I don't even like the guy-" she stops when their English teach stops in the middle of the three of them.

"Lydia," Ms Blake smiles down at where Lydia looks like she's doing anything but making notes. She's actually drawing a tree, "I wasn't aware you had so many hidden talents."

"You and every guy I've ever dated," Lydia, startled, still manages to come up with a flawless reply.

"An idiom. So you were listening…" Ms Blake steps forwards, "Idioms are phrases that only makes sense if you know key words. Saying 'jump the gun' is meaningful only if you know about the starting gun in a race, or a phrase like 'seeing the whole board.'"

"Chess."

Their teacher's smile thins slightly, "That's right, Stiles," she says, turning away to continue her lecture.

"I still think we're jumping the gun," Stiles says, staring after her and looking to Scott and Lydia, "But we need to do something and this… it's as good as anything."

Lydia and Scott nod grimly, and they're together in this. They're gonna work together and come out on top because that?

That is what they do best.

---

"I don't like the twins."

"Nobody likes the twins."

Isaac stares at Stiles suspiciously, waiting for the other shoe to drop. This can't be the whole plan. He thought Stiles and Scott were smarter than this.

But Stiles stays silent, staring at him expectantly and he shakes his head, "Oh no," he says, "No!"

"Come on!"

"No."

Stiles opens his mouth to complain when Cora appears, dumping her books down and opening to a page of her text book. She slides into a seat right next to Isaac and presses against him. Stiles wrinkles his nose a little at their mingled scents.

"Can we study?" Cora asks him.

"Now?" she didn't even ask Stiles, but he still answers, "We're trying to work out how to ask the twins about their emissaries and you want to study?"

"Well do you have a better plan?"

"No," the werewolf sounds annoyed, "I planned to use Danny, Scott planned to use Lydia and Lydia's not impressed with either."

"So until you come up with a better plan…" Cora turns to Isaac, ignoring Stiles completely, "So I'm a bit behind," she admits, "I spent one year on the run and another five in South America, remember?"

Isaac forgets that Stiles doesn't know, so both of them blink a little at the other wolf's double take, "South America?" Stiles gapes, "How did you get there?"

"Walked," Cora deadpans.

"Sure," Isaac agrees, "We can study."

---

Stiles lasts half an hour. Half an hour of Cora and Isaac making puppy dog eyes at each other.

Or rather, Isaac keeps shooting her glances and Cora keeps frowning at him as if she's considering eating him. Peter looked at him like that once, and Stiles wonders if she's actually Peter's secret daughter instead of Talia's.

He slips away from the duo and he swears they didn't even notice him. He tracks down Lydia by scent to the library where she is pretending to read a book on Advanced Physics. He knows she's pretending because the book is upside down and she keeps ogling passing freshmen.

"You know they're like, fourteen."

She looks really disappointed, "Then why do they all look so much older?" she laments, then glances at him, "You're not fourteen," she says, suggestively.

"Been there," Stiles shrugs, "Tried that."

She sighs, looking back down at her notes where she hasn't written a single thing. Instead she is idly skirting her pen over the page. "Isaac and Cora are studying," Stiles informs her. He obviously doesn't put enough emphasis on the word 'studying' because Lydia raises one unimpressed eyebrow.

"Well then why are you annoying my in the library instead of studying with them?"

"Trust me, I don't want to be studying with them."

"Huh," she hums, casting an appraising glance on her drawing.

"Nice tree," Stiles comments, then pauses, "Wait… isn't that the same tree? You were drawing one in English too."

"What do you mean the same?" she scoffs, "It's a tree. I like drawing trees."

He stares at the black pen lines, tracing them over in his head. He yanks her book from her, ignoring her alarmed cry and paging through it. Near the end there is another tree and he rips it out, again to Lydia's protests.

Holding them next to each other Stiles look up to see Lydia's expression.

She's horrified. Absolutely horrified.

"Coincidence?" she asks.

Once is an incident and twice is a coincidence. Three times…

Stiles digs out one of her other notebooks, and pages it open.

A smaller tree, same proportions and same twists in the branches. He turns the page. And keeps turning.

"Oh," Lydia's voice is small. She's terrified, her eyes wide and lips trembling. Gently she reaches out to take the ripped out drawing from Stiles, "I… I didn't even realise…"

"It's important," Stiles whispers, "It's important and we… we're so close…"

"Morrell," Lydia whispers, "We need to talk to Morrell. She's Deucalion's emissary, isn't she?"

"Come on!" Stiles grabs her bag, leaving Lydia with her books and pen, stumbling after him. He helps her close her bag up, and she grabs his warm fingers, tugging him down the corridor to the guidance office.

That's where they are heading - the guidance offices. Lydia's been there before and she knows where she's going. Stiles lets her lead, following after her, but then she turns down the wrong corridor, still pulling him and Stiles follows her, feeling a growing sense of dread in his chest.

Lydia should know where the guidance offices are.

That doesn't explain why she tugs Stiles into a history classroom, coming to a halt in front of the chalkboard. She's staring into space like she's barely aware that she's just standing there.

Stiles is loath to say anything. He's loathe to break the trance she is in but he can't just do nothing; "Lydia?" he asks gently.

She turns to look at him and there is a horrible knowledge in her eyes. "Stiles," she whispers.

"Yeah?"

"Cover your ears."

He barely manages to spin away from her, palms over his ears as an ear-splitter shriek rings out.

No, he thinks. Not a shriek. A wail.

The wail of a banshee.

---

"We don't have anything to say to you."

"Well tough," Malia growls. Actually growls. They've cornered the twins by the corridor outside the locker room and Scott didn't mean for them to be intimidating, but Malia has taken it into her head to be prepared. "We need to talk to you."

Scott wants to let his head fall into his hands. Stiles needs to introduce Malia to tact and subtlety and he needs to do it soon. "We just want to ask you a few questions. We're trying to help."

"Yeah?" Aiden practically bristles, "Well stop trying."

Ethan opens his mouth as if to protest, but is silence by a look from his brother. Aiden looks seconds from physically dragging his brother away or worse, lashing out, but he has the chance to do neither.

Because that is when Lydia screams.

It has to be Lydia. Scott hasn't heard anyone scream like that. It's piercing and it reaches into him on a level he didn't know sound could.

Malia's frowning at him as the sound fades, "Scott…" she begins hurriedly, "Scott… your eyes…"

"Was that Lydia?" Aiden moves down the corridor, and exchanging a glance - Malia and Scott are half-way down the corridor before the twins can even blink.

---

"Are you okay?"

"No," Lydia bats away Allison's helping hands, "No, I am not okay. The history teacher is missing."

"We can't say he's missing," their English teacher says behind them, "Just because he's not here…"

"He's missing, okay?" Lydia snaps, "I know he is. Now somebody get the Sheriff on the phone or I'm going to!"

"I believe you," Allison tells her, then turns to Ms Blake, "She's right - he's gone missing like the others."

"Like the oth-" Ms Blake presses her lips together and laughs weakly, "You think they're some sort of human sacrifices?"

Lydia crosses her arms defiantly, "So where did our substitute chemistry teacher go? Huh? Or the music teacher? And what about that kid they found on the cross-country track?"

"Lydia… Lydia…" Stiles and Allison tug her back together. She fights them off half-heartedly and allows Allison to grab her arm to steady her.

"Are you sure?" Allison asks. That's all. Just three words and with one nod, Lydia has her best friend's support.

Stiles already knows. He got the full earful and he still looks partially deafened. Pounding footsteps signal Scott and Malia arriving.

"What happened? We heard the scream!" Malia looks with worried eyes to Lydia.

She shakes her head mutely and steps back, letting Stiles explain.

"A teacher and a deputy?" Allison frowns, "What's the pattern? That's not guardians or philosophers."

"Does it matter?" Lydia looks to the blank board, and blinks. For a moment she thinks she can see circles. Four, overlapping into what she knows is called a five-fold knot.

Celtic, she thinks, like banshees.

"I could find him," she says, "If I… I should be able to find him. Before he dies."

"Lydia…" Allison grabs her hand, "Lydia, if you can't - it's not your fault."

"But I should be able to do something!" she can't help the way her voice breaks, "What's the point of all this if I can't even… if I can't even…"

Before she knows it Allison is wrapping her up in a hug, "You'll work it out," the huntress steps back, "You're Lydia Martin. You're a genius who knows archaic Latin and could probably graduate by the end of this term if she wanted to. You're clever, Lydia, and you'll work it out. I believe in you."

Lydia had thought she could get through school with a clique of giggly, mindless girls. She had thought high school was all about popularity, being the top couple with the best boyfriend and the nicest hair and best fashion sense. She had cultivated an image of perfection and airless quality.

Now she had none of that. Except for the fashion sense; she had no boyfriend. She wasn't popular, and people still whispered about what happened last year. How she had befriended McCall and Stilinski and the next thing Jackson dumps her and she hosts the weirdest birthday party ever. Nobody looked at her and whispered 'that's Lydia Martin, queen of the school'.

But her friends looked at her with respect in their eyes. Teachers were whispering 'she's going to be valedictorian'.

And she had friends.

That in itself was amazing. She had friends - not flat, paper girls who were 50% make-up and giggles - but real friends who cared about her. Friends who trusted her and believed in her and…

Friends who would die for her.

They're more than friends, she thinks. Family, maybe, but even that doesn't sound like it encompasses it all.

Pack, she decides. She has a Pack.

Yes, she thinks, that sounds right.

---

"See?" Scott hisses to Ethan as Ms Blake tries to work out where the history teacher has gone. It's looking like they're going to need some more new teachers at this rate, "This is why you need to help!"

"Why should I do that?" Ethan says, still being stubborn. Scott narrows his eyes and then just gestures to where Stiles looks like he's just brimming with blackmail material.

And indeed - he goes straight for Ethan's weak point. "I heard your brother threatening Danny. But you…" Stiles' face is gleeful, "You like Danny. So surely you want us to find the thing that hurt Danny?"

Ethan's expression goes blank.

"I think I should warn you," Stiles hums, "That if you hurt him there is a werewolf in London who will eat you alive. And at least half a dozen here."

"I don't know anything!" Ethan hisses, "I don't know why you're even talking to me!"

"We want to know about your emissaries," Scott explains quickly and concisely.

"What about them?" Ethan sneers, "They're dead."

"All of them?"

"Except Deucalion's."

"You killed them?" Stiles sneers, and Ethan just narrows his eyes at him, "Kali and Ennis too? What was even the point? If you were alphas already why ditch your pack to join another one?"

Ethan shook his head violently, "You don't get it - unlike Kali and Ennis we weren't alphas."

"So what were you?" Malia frowns.

"Omegas."

"I thought omegas mean you have no pack," Malia sounds confused.

Ethan tilts one shoulder, "The lowest ranked then. Most packs don't have ranks. Ours did. In actual wolf packs omegas are the scapegoats; the last to eat, the ones who take the abuse and the insults and the beatings."

Stiles looks sceptical, "You and your twin can fuse into a super Voltron wolf and you let the others push you around?"

"We couldn't control it back then," Ethan explains.

"Deucalion taught you," Scott realises, "He saw potential in you and he taught you and then…"

"We killed them. All of them. Killing our alpha when we were fused meant we were both alphas afterwards. And Deucalion took us in-"

"What are you doing?" Aiden appears through the crowd, grabbing Ethan's shoulder. His face is creased in a glare, "What are you telling them?"

"Nothing!" Ethan shakes off his brother's hand.

"Are you helping them?"

Aiden looks seconds away from attacking, but freezes when Cora and Isaac step up to join the three already there.

"Come on!" Aiden grabs his twin, manhandling him away.

Malia stares after them looking unimpressed. She crosses her arms and turns to Scott, "Well that got us nowhere," she declares.

"We should talk to Morrell," Cora decides, "I'm gonna call Derek, let him know about what's going on…"

"No need," Allison appears, Lydia next to her and behind her is Derek, "Look who I found."

There was silence for a moment.

"Seriously," Stiles rolls his eyes, "You spend more time at this school than we do!"

Cora looks offended, "Were you following me?" she bristles like an angry cat, "Can I not even go to school without your supervision?"

Uncomfortable, Derek clears his throat, "I was checking we hadn't given your English teacher mental health problems," he says, "Apparently Argent didn't do a good job of explain how we're not going to eat her."

"Huh," Stiles says, "So that's why she's been acting funny around us in English."

Lydia rolls her eyes, "Maybe it was just because you're you."

Stiles pulls a face and Scott interrupts before the two can start bickering. Once that happens he doesn't stand a chance of getting a word in edgeways. "Can we get back to the issue at hand, please?"

"Sounds good," Cora says, "Are you dating her?"

"What?"

"Are you dating her? She's kind of hot. Or maybe you're sleeping with her…"

"No, I've already explained to Malia how I'm not sleeping with your English teacher."

There's another awkward silence.

"Braeden then," Isaac bets.

"I- what? No, she's not even in town, she had a job…"

"See? We don't even know when she vanishes, but she tells you…"

"Stiles?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"Noted," Stiles says, suddenly appearing aware that everyone is glaring at him. "So…" he turns back to Derek and Scott feels a train wreck coming on, "She's definitely a Hale. Your sister is like a carbon copy of you… albeit a kind of hotter girl version…"

Derek turns a glare of death on Stiles so strong it makes him step backwards in alarm. He swallows audibly, looking sufficiently terrified while Derek just looks… well… Derek only really has a limited facial range. His facial expression were usually 'dour' or 'terrifyingly dour'.

In turning to Stiles, Derek missed Isaac exchanging a shy smile with Cora in the background. Scott wondered if Derek would murder Isaac if he found out about their studying session.

"We'll go talk to Morrell," Cora gestures to herself and Isaac.

Lydia sighs, "I guess I'll… try my banshee thing."

"I'll help," Malia volunteers.

"We'll head out," Allison says, and Stiles steps up beside her, "See if we can track him down in town."

Scott nods in agreement, glancing at Derek, "We'll stay here," he says, "The recital is in a few hours… call us if anything - and I mean anything - happens."

---

Allison and Stiles take the jeep. They swing by Stiles' house to grab the map with the telluric currents on it, narrowing down their search window.

"Shouldn't we tell your dad?" Stiles pauses as he bundles the map up, "I mean… he's either investigating or he's killing, either way you getting involved might make him stop and include us."

Allison rubs at her chin with her palm, "He's not a killer," she whispers, "But he knows more than we do, so I don't know what else he could be."

"He could just be well prepared. Allison, he's a hunter, he might have dealt with stuff like this before."

Her laugh is slightly hysterical, "I'm the one who told him we should come back. We both wanted Deucalion, and now we're caught up with this Darach mess and neither of us are exactly keeping our promise to stop being a hunter."

"If it helps," Stiles offers, "I don't think being a hunter is something you just stop. Just like I can't stop being a werewolf. You're either born to it or… or you're bitten. You're drawn in. Like Scott. Like Derek. Like Cora and Malia and Lydia and I."

"And I," Allison lifts her chin up and there is a new light shining in her eyes, "Let's do this," she says, just as Isaac tumbles into Stiles's room through the window, almost giving the werewolf with supposed super-senses a heart attack.

"I have a front door! Malia can even use it, so why can't you?!"

"We can't find Morrell," Isaac interrupts his complaints, "Maybe it's her?"

"Our guidance councillor?" Stiles asks at the same time Allison chokes out, "My French teacher?"

Isaac blinks, as if he's not sure who to answer.

Stiles narrows his eyes, "Hasn't anyone ever told you to pick up a phone?" he asks.

Isaac shrugs, "Cora sent me. Said you'd be better with someone to help you pick up scents and things." At Stiles' expression he adds, "Yeah, that's what I said."

"Well come on," Allison doesn't seem to mind, "But I call shotgun."

Isaac pouts, "Seriously," he grumbles to Stiles, "First I have to hitch a ride with Scott, then I have to climb into that thing you call a back-seat?"

"Don't insult Roscoe."

"You named your jeep 'Roscoe'?"

"Not the time, Isaac."

Stiles climbs in the driver's seat leaving Isaac to either clamber over Allison to get in the back, or to open the boot and slide in that way. Both are equally as awkward as the other and Isaac shoots Stiles a glare, before going for the former.

"I hate you, Stilinski," he mutters as he finally settles in the backseat.

"You claw up Roscoe I will end you," Stiles threatens.

Allison frowns, "You called your jeep 'Roscoe'?"

"Not the point."

---

Malia holds her phone like it's a lifeline. She pauses as the scents and sounds of the bustling hospital hits her and behind her Lydia almost walks into her.

"What are we even doing here?" Lydia asks, but there is relief pouring off her in waves. Relief that she doesn't have to stare at a blank piece of paper. Relief that she doesn't have to close her eyes and listen to something only she can hear.

Relief that they don't have to stare at the picture of a tree that Lydia had drawn, with no idea what it meant.

Malia wields her phone like a lifeline and an excuse, waving it in front of Lydia's face, "The Sheriff asked us to meet him here after he found out about the second teacher going missing. He thinks he might have worked something out."

A scent that smells almost like Scott, but more feminine wanders past, pausing and examining the pair of them, "Malia?" Melissa asks, "Lydia? What are you doing here?"

"Meeting up with the Sheriff."

"You too?" the nurse raises one eyebrow, "I didn't think… I mean…"

"Ah, there you are…" the Sheriff pushes his way through the crowds towards them. His gaze roves over them and he smiles, eyes softening at Malia and then Lydia.

It's how Malia wishes her adopted father would look at her, but doesn't. Not since she told him.

It's how she can only dream Peter, her real father would look at her, but in reality knows that's not going to happen. She's not sad about that. Not really.

It's how she wishes she was Stiles' sister. She wishes she was the Sheriff's daughter, adopted or not.

She wishes the Sheriff was her father.

"What do you want me to find for you?" Melissa asks, as she leads them to the records room.

"Something you mentioned to me actually. You said something about birds."

There is a brief pause as Melissa vanishes among the records to search for whatever it is that the Sheriff wants to look for. Lydia casts an appraising look around, "I didn't think you could look through patient records without a warrant," she comments, idly.

"What's a warrant?" Malia asks, and that's when Melissa appears back.

Her scent has twisted into the same thing that permeates every member of the pack. Malia's becoming intimately familiar with it.

Anxiety.

"What is it?" she asks, as the Sheriff leafs through the brown hospital file.

"About eight years ago a woman was brought into the hospital half-dead. I was the one who found her in the woods near this massive tree trunk and brought her in. But that's not the interesting thing. The interesting thing is that while she was still struggling to survive, birds began flying into windows."

"Like at the school," Lydia frowns, "Hang on… did you say a tree trunk?" she glances up sharply, and Malia's nose wrinkles because she can't see how that's important. There are hundreds of tree trunks in the forest.

"I remember," Melissa nods, "Hundreds of birds were everywhere. They flew into doors and windows in some sort of mass suicide."

"Or mass sacrifice," the Sheriff says, darkly, and he stares down at the hospital file, then wordlessly shows it to Malia and Lydia, "Does this girl look familiar?"

Malia stares. There is something about it, but the human is so scarred up that she can't tell. Lydia however gasps and nods, weakly, "That's her: the Darach. You are one hell of a detective," Lydia compliments him, "I see where Stiles gets it from."

"Thank you, Lydia… are you… you're not looking so good, is something the matter?"

Lydia, in fact, looks really pale. Her hands are trembling and Malia has to grab onto the smaller red-head's shoulders to stop her from falling over.

"Woah!" Malia blinks, because Lydia has the same look in her eyes as she had when she had pronounced Malia's father as Peter Hale, "Steady!"

"What is it, Lydia?" the Sheriff frowns at her.

"I… I just feel… like I should be anywhere but here," she whispers, gaze distant.

And Malia knows what she needs to do, "So where do we need to go? Because we're going there. Now."

"The school," Lydia's voice doesn't waver, "I need to be at the school."

---

"We're running out of time," Allison says, looking at the sky outside.

"And places," Isaac has the map, and they've checked out most, if not all of the locations where the telluric currents cross. This is one of the few places left: it's an abandoned warehouse, because if there is anything Beacon Hills has in great quantities, then it is plenty of those.

The two werewolves go first, Allison bringing up the rear and this time she has a gun. Sooner or later, she thinks, she's going to have a weapon in each of her friend's car.

"A baseball bat?" Isaac asks Stiles dryly, "Really?"

"What's the matter? Jealous?" Stiles twirls the bat and all he succeeds in doing is almost braining himself in the head.

The warehouse looks empty. But they keep moving and they're only a few steps in when Stiles freezes, Isaac next to him. "I smell blood," Isaac says.

"And ozone," Stiles says, "I think we've got it…"

"FYI: if your dad tries to kill me - I'm gonna defend myself."

"If my dad tries to kill you," Allison reassures him, "You'll be dead."

"This is not gonna end well," Isaac mumbles.

There is a click and the two betas make a matched pair with glowing blue and yellow eyes as they turn. Behind them Allison sees a shadow, someone hanging and behind him a figure hidden beneath a dark drape-

The figure sees them approaching, eyes blazing white and an inhuman screech echoing out of it's mouth. It's a monster, Allison thinks, disfigured and…

No, she thinks, looking at the claw marks across the thing's face.

Mutilated.

The two werewolves look about to run forwards but she's already a few steps ahead of them, spinning her ring dagger. "Allison!" one of them shouts, "Allison: wait!"

One of them - Isaac, she thinks - grabs her, tugging her to the side just as her dad's voice shouts out, "Get down!"

She ducks on instinct, and he's there, two guns out like some sort of western movie and pulling the trigger.

The thing screeches again, but the bullets hardly appear to daunt it. Her dad moves forwards, emptying the cartridges in a move that shouldn't work, but it does.

"Help him!" he shouts, still shooting off into the darkness.

Allison races forwards, going for the knots but Isaac grabs her.

"Don't bother," Stiles says as Chris drops his guns, glaring into the darkness where the Darach had last been. "He's already dead."

"That's Mr Westover," she whispers, pressing her hand over her mouth in horror, "I thought this was Guardians."

"No," Chris turns to them, "No, it's not Guardians."

"Philosophers," she realises.

Stiles nods, "That makes sense… Tara used to teach Middle School."

Chris' gaze is worried as he scans over the three of them, "You three shouldn't be here," he scolds them, and the anger in his voice makes Allison's stomach heave, "I almost had him."

Stiles and Isaac know better than to say anything, so she talks, "So it's my fault? No… no this isn't my fault. You've been lying to me for the past month, keeping secrets and going behind my back…"

"You want to start tallying up the lies?" Chris asks, grey eyes flickering to Isaac and Stiles, "Maybe you should go first."

"Maybe we should all stop lying," Isaac says, and they all turn to stare at him. He looks daunted by their gazes, but resolute as he continues, "We know it's Philosophers, right? So shouldn't we tell Scott? Someone should look out for the teachers."

Stiles frowns, turning to Isaac with his usual sarcastic comment, "There are dozens of teachers," he sneers, "How are we going to protect them all? They're all going home."

"No," Allison realises, "Not they're not. They're going to the recital."

Stiles sighs, "Someone needs to phone Scott."

---

Allison, Isaac and Stiles burst into the gym, and it probably would have been more dramatic if the concert hadn't even started yet, and with the bustling of people everywhere they go unnoticed. Chris is right behind them, and his posture is stiff like he's taking up guard.

"Anything?" Allison heads up to Derek and Scott who shake their heads in unison. Chris looks uncomfortable by how comfortable his daughter is with the werewolves, but says nothing, even as Cora moves towards Stiles and Isaac.

"Morrell is gone," she says with a shrug, "But the twins are here and they both look nervous." She tilts her head to one side, and Stiles follows the direction to where the pair sit next to each other. Ethan has a slightly soppy smile on his face as he looks towards Danny while Aiden looks like he swallowed something sour.

"Where's Malia and Lydia?" he asks, because he knows already they're not in the nearby vicinity.

Cora shakes her head, "They went to look some stuff up. I don't know. This… we're another dead teacher down and soon to be another one."

Stiles cranes his neck around her to the various teachers he can see about the hall. He can't smell anything wrong. There is no ozone, no woody scent of the forest.

Not yet.

"Maybe we can't do this," Cora whispers, looking nervous, "You know for a moment I thought you guys actually had a handle on this. But you… none of you know what you're doing, do you?"

"We," Isaac says, but it's hesitant and cautious, "I thought you were with us now?"

Stiles feels like he's intruding, even more so when Cora and Isaac gaze at each other for several long seconds. He clears his throat but they ignore him.

"I am," Cora says eventually, "We. I like the sound of that."

Stiles makes to step away, but that's when Derek appears, looking like a raincloud drifting across their small patch of sunshine, "Scott told me the plan," he says, "I don't like it."

"Nobody likes it," Stiles shares with the alpha, "But unless you have something better it's what we're going with for now."

"Shhh!" someone hisses at them, "The concert is about to start."

---

The rest of the school is dark. There is a small collection of lights near the one corner but the rest is completely empty.

"I thought they were going after teachers," the Sheriff whispers to Malia, "So where is Lydia going?"

The strawberry-blonde's eyes are out of focus and she's walking with determination. Her destination is unknown, but her head is cocked slightly to one side as if listening to something.

Malia pulls her phone out of her pocket, trying to phone Stiles and tell him what's going on. Her phone flashes at her that it has no signal.

Outside there is a low growl of approaching thunder.

"There's a storm coming," she says, nose twitching. Her instincts urge her to bunk down in a den, hide and wait for it to be over.

"I think it's already here," the Sheriff sounds grave, and he pulls out his gun. "Go get the others."

"But what about you?" Malia protests, "You're not supernatural."

"No, but I'm a mean shot and I've been protecting the town since before you were born. I can last ten minutes without you."

Malia glances once at the man, then at the banshee who is still walking, turning corners and not stopping. She's going to find something soon, be it a dead body or something else…

Malia doesn't wait to find out.

She takes off running down the corridor.

---

The concert would probably be pleasant to listen to if Stiles didn't have super-senses.

It still is rather pleasant. But he finds himself wincing at every flat or out of tune note. "That third trombone has to go," he mutters bitterly to Scott, trying to ease the tension.

It doesn't help.

He stands near the back, feeling like some sort of security guard which is every sort of ironic with his lanky frame and plaid shirt. He's also near the doors, but that's more instinct than anything else. It allows him to hear the pounding footsteps of someone running down the corridor towards them.

He's moving before Scott hears it, stepping out and scenting the air, relaxing as he recognises the scent.

"Stiles!" Malia crashes into the doorway in a whirl of long hair and wide brown eyes that flicker blue and back to soft brown, "Stiles! Lydia's sensed something! The Darach is here; right now…"

Stiles is moving before she's even finished, and Scott follows with a lag, "Why didn't you phone?" Stiles asks and Malia waves her phone.

The shake of her head is pathetic, "I did. I tried," her voice is quiet, "Like you showed me but… there's no signal."

"Are you kidding?" Stiles snatches up her phone, "The school always has sig-" his words die as he sees her phone, the signal bar dead. Pulling out his own and seeing Scott do the same only confirms it. "What the hell?" he asks.

"She's here. The Darach," Malia says.

Scott immediately does a full 360 of the area, "I can't see anything. Anyone."

Stiles' head tilts to one side, "She?" he asks, picking up the change in gender. Without really thinking about it, they've been referring to the Darach as a male. But the change in pronoun means they know who it is.

And like he expects, Malia nods. With Stiles and Scott staring at her expectantly, she takes her phone back from Stiles, finding a picture to show them, "Here," she says, "A woman called Julia Baccarri."

"Who the hell is that?" Stiles sneers, seconds before he realises it. "JB." He stares at the initials, "Oh god."

"JB?" Scott is frowning, and Stiles grabs his friend's shoulder, not even realising that his claws are out and he's digging his hand in too deep. Too deep and too tight and-

"The school," he whispers, "It's on a crossing point of telluric currents. Three sacrifices have already vanished from here and now there's a forth… and all the teachers are here because this recital was organised. By…"

"By Ms Blake…" Scott realises, eyes widening, "Jennifer Blake. JB. Stiles? Stiles - no - wait!" Stiles' claws tear sharply out of his friend's shoulder and before Malia can stop him he's throwing himself down the corridor, "Stiles!" Scott shouts after him.

"My dad's there!" Stiles shouts over his shoulder, pausing for half a second, "And Lydia!"

Whatever Scott was going to say next is drowned out by the piercing scream that shatters the silence of the night.

Seconds later it's echoed tenfold as a piano string snaps and the sharp tang of blood hits Stiles' senses.

---

It's sudden. Allison barely even notices at first. It's Isaac and Cora's reaction that has her spinning around just as the first scream echoes throughout the gym.

With a crash the piano had been plunging deeper and deeper into what felt like a black pit, and it's with that crash that the string breaks. It's already across the teacher's throat when Allison turns, the string snapping out like a blade and just as lethal.

The teacher drops, choking. Chairs scrape and with varying degrees of noise the orchestra grinds to a halt, shock ripple outwards like a sound wave tearing through the crowd.

"Did you hear that?" Cora whispers.

"Lydia," Isaac says, "Lydia screamed."

Allison fights her way forwards, and her dad tries to intercept, but she's already there, by the stage and seeing the teacher's bloody body.

There is no point in trying to help her.

She's already dead.

And in her mouth, mixed with the blood, are white translucent balls of mistletoe.

---

Somewhere Lydia screams and a teacher dies.

Somewhere Lydia screams and Scott, Stiles and Malia are half-way out of the room already running towards her.

"Did you hear that?" Cora whispers, as Allison shoves her way to the front of the hall. Allison pushes, elbows, even kicks someone aside so she can be at the front to see the body.

Cora hears the whisper even though the screams and panic of everyone there, "Mistletoe," Allison says, looking back towards them.

"Come on!" Chris grabs Allison, "Allison, we need to go-"

"No!" Allison wrenches her arm out of her dad's grip in a movement that must be painful, "No! I have to help."

Cora's attention is drawn away from their conversation by Derek doing almost exactly what Chris had just tried to do to Allison. Except Cora manages to duck away from his grip.

"Cora," Derek says, staring at her with worried eyes, "We need to leave."

"Why?" she asks, sticking her chin out stubbornly, "We have stuff to do."

"We?" Derek frowns, "Since when has there been a 'we'?" and he pauses, gaze flickering to where Cora is steadily backing away until Isaac is next to her. She reaches out, locking their fingers together. She can smell his nerves, but she keeps up her glare at Derek.

"Since now," she says, "Since I came home. And I'm not leaving this easily."

"I'm not asking you to leave," Derek pleads with her, "People are dying! I want you out of danger! I want you safe."

"I can't go with you, Derek," Cora whispers, "I can't."

"Why not?" he sounds frustrated, "I'm your brother… you can't even live in the same building as me! Why don't you trust me?"

"Because LAURA DIDN'T TRUST YOU!" the cry is torn from her throat, "Okay?" she shouts, pressing against Isaac as she shakes, watching as Derek, her brother who has remained so detached, so calm and composed… she watches as he breaks with those words, "Laura found me after the fire. She gave me money. She gave me an address and a phone and her number. She told me it would be safer to split up. She told me not to tell anyone: that it would be better to let them think I had died. I thought she hadn't told you for my safety; what I didn't realised was she didn't trust you not to let another hunter into your bed."

"You know-" Derek chokes on his words.

"Peter told me," Cora says, feeling empty, "But you know Peter. He tells the truth but manipulates the situation. So I had Allison fill me in on the rest."

She hates the look on his face. She hates the way that even though she's seen the physical wounds the alphas had given him, the emotional ones by his own sister hurt far worse. They cut far deeper and Cora…

Cora doesn't know what to do anymore. She doesn't know where to turn except-

Except that's a lie. She's pressed against Isaac. Chris and Allison are fighting their way through the crowd back to them, both looking like they're prepared to kill something. Somewhere Scott and Stiles and Malia and Lydia are trying to do something and Cora…

Cora thinks she might have found a pack.

But it's not her brother's pack.

Ah, she thinks, no wonder they want Scott.

---

It leaves her feeling hoarse. The screams always do, but this one is worse.

It might be because of the wire twisted around her throat.

Lydia's fingers clutch in vain at the wire, and even as she feels her limbs weaken from the force of her scream she doesn't let go.

"Unbelievable."

She steps around into Lydia's view with slow, measured steps. Her brown eyes are creased in a frown and she stops, gaze focussed on Lydia with shock and awe and - is that fear?

Lydia would talk if she could form the words. Her throat feels bruised - that is definitely going to mark. She settles for glaring. She's been told by Stiles that it is a fearsome thing, the wrath of Lydia Martin, and indeed Jennifer Blake's lips press together a little tighter.

"You're a banshee," she accuses, voice sharp, "No wonder you've been getting in the way at every step. They call to you, don't they? You; the wailing woman who screams for deaths relating to the supernatural." She laughs, throwing back her head in genuine surprise, "And here I thought you were just a girl who knew too much."

"Let her go," the Sheriff grunts out from behind the English teacher. Lydia's English teacher.

Her fucking English teacher.

Lydia really wants to switch schools, but she has to admit that none of them saw this coming. It's not like she had done anything odd or strange. If anything she was a good teacher.

She just had a vendetta in play.

The Sheriff is tied up. There's a head wound on his head that was trickling blood but now it's stopped. Lydia had barely made it into the classroom before she had been hit. The Sheriff had followed, and woman or not, she had strength behind her. The strength of warriors.

"Let her go," the Sheriff says again.

Jennifer sighs, "Maybe I should - after all if you know, all your little friends probably know as well. Who will be knocking on my door first? Scott? Stiles?" her tone is sneering as she glances back at the Sheriff, "Surprised to see you here, though, Sheriff."

"Not as surprised as I am that you survived," the Sheriff sounds tired. Probably from being knocked out. "The last time I saw you it was when the ambulance found you in the woods with your face and body slashed up."

"Slashed up?" Jennifer repeats, disbelief in her voice, "SLASHED UP? If you think that's what happened then you're underestimating the alphas. She left me to die!"

"Kali," Lydia whispers. It's the only female alpha…

"That's right, I forget. You're the genius, after all."

"And you're the one killing people," the Sheriff snaps out.

"Killing… no!" the teacher sounds disgusted, "Sacrifices! Of course, none of you have a good understanding of that word.

It's derived from the Latin 'sacrificium': an offering to a deity, a sacred rite. A necessary evil. They have already given me… so much…" her voice is awestruck. In wonder. Lydia tries to reach down for where her legs are tied to the chair but they're zip-ties, and her nails scrabble for purchase. "They give their life to her. And I take her power. From Virgins, Warriors, Healers, Philosophers…" she pauses, turning fully away from Lydia now to examine the Sheriff. Her smile is languid, content and triumphant all in one. "And Guardians," she says.

Lydia screams again. Not a wordless wail this time. She calls out a name, "SCOTT!" she shouts as loud as she can, "STILES! ALLISON!"

If they are near then they'll come running.

She's not expecting the door to crash open almost immediately after their names fall off her lips.

Jennifer whirls around and quicker and faster than she should, she grabs the Sheriff, tugging him to his feet as a shield. Stiles is first. Because of course he is. He almost breaks the door off it's hinges getting in. Malia's right behind him, but Scott slides past the coyote at the last second. He gets a desk slammed into his chest for his trouble, the door slamming on the hapless coyote.

"Lydia!" she can see Malia mouth through the locked door, eyes wide and panicked. Stiles skids clumsily across the classroom towards her, his claws out and breaking open the zip-locks.

"Are you okay?" he asks, but he's not even looking at her.

She can't talk. Not well at least. But she's with it enough to turn towards where Jennifer is dragging the Sheriff backwards.

"Dad!" Stiles makes it two steps before with a snarl Jennifer swipes one hand out to the side. Her eyes blaze a brilliant, blazing white. It's like the full moon is shining in her gaze.

The desks fly towards them. It's like the birds all over again. Lydia drops to the ground, and she feels Stiles grab onto her; protecting her from the flying wood and metal.

There is a crash. Not just as the desks are thrown telekinetically across the classroom at them, but a crash of glass as something breaks.

With a roar Scott shoves the teacher's desk away from him, staggering to where Stiles and Lydia are stranded in a sea of tables. Stiles is already up, fighting his way out and then drawing to a sudden and abrupt halt.

He's staring at something on the floor. Two things, actually.

His dad's gun, and a broken, slightly mangled Sheriff's badge.

His father and Jennifer Blake are gone.

---

Derek returns to his loft.

Alone.

Because that's how it is now, he thinks. Boyd's dead. Erica's gone. Isaac left him for Scott. Cora left him for Isaac.

He's an alpha without a pack, but he can't find it in himself to be angry, or even sad. It's been a long time coming, he thinks.

He's a pretty shitty alpha.

He needs to help Scott, he thinks. He needs to turn around and walk back to find the teenager and offer help. He needs to stop hiding and running away.

Footsteps behind him have him whirling around. For a moment he doesn't recognise the woman there, but then he does. Her brown hair curls over her shoulder and her eyes are wide, "Derek," she whispers, "You need to help me."

"Jennifer?" he asks, frowning slightly at the form of the woman he had killed Boyd to save. He feels sick.

He had killed Boyd to save her and she…

"You have to help me," he notes how it changes from 'need' to 'have to'. She sounds desperate. She sounds worried and scared and smells terrified, but it's all an act, all a façade…

"If I help you," he says carefully, "Will you give Stiles his father back?"

He watches her expression fall. He watches as her acting takes on a different tack, as she tries to appeal to him as her saviour again, "Scott told you," she says, sounding panicked, "What lies did he tell you? That I'm the one taking people?"

"Killing people," Derek corrects her.

"Committing human sacrifices?" she sneers, "Sure, I do it on my lunch break so I can go back to teaching high school English the rest of the day." She shakes her head, "It's not like that, Derek. You helped me once - you saved me before, now help me again."

He shakes his head slowly, "I'm not helping you kill people."

"It's not…" she stops, as if realising her story is falling through, "Derek, please…"

He wonders why she came to him. He wonders why she's asking this of him and almost as soon as he's thought it he realises the answer.

He's an alpha. The alpha pack will be after her now, just like they're after him. She wants to use him to protect herself, but Derek… Derek can use her too.

He moves, and she doesn't do anything, just lets his hand slot around her throat as lift her up, claws just pricking the skin of her neck, "Derek, please, listen to me…"

"Where's Stilinski?" he asks through a growl, "What did you do to him?"

"If you kill me you'll never find him," she knows she has the upper hand, despite Derek's claws are her throat. She knows he can't kill her and she's not even scared. With a half-growl, half-shout he throws her down to the cold floor of the loft where she sprawls, lips curling into a triumphant grin, "That's right," she says, "You need me. And I need you."

---

"I don't need a hospital."

Maybe Stiles would be more convinced if she didn't just sound like she had severe laryngitis. Her throat aches and the edge of her hair line where Jennifer had knocked her unconscious is bloody. She might have a concussion but she's not sure.

Her argument is so weak that nobody even bothers arguing with her. Cora and Isaac are squashed into the back-seat and Stiles drives, eyes fixed grimly on the road ahead looking like he's struggling to keep control. His eyes keep flickering blue and she wonders if he even knows it.

He looks seconds away from either falling into pieces himself, or from ripping someone else into bloody chunks.

"The storm's getting pretty bad," Isaac says from the backseat, "Can this old wreck make it?"

"Don't insult Roscoe," Stiles bites out.

"It's really creepy when you talk to your car," Cora remarks, and Stiles glares at her in the rear view mirror. Lydia wishes he'd keep his eyes on the road because Isaac is right - the storm is getting really bad. As they pull up to the hospital it's to twenty cars and ambulances pulling away. She peers around, taking in the chaos at the front entrance.

"You should have gone to the hospital downtown," Isaac says, "They look like they're evacuating due to the storm."

"I'm not driving downtown," Stiles snaps out, almost biting Isaac's head off, "There isn't time and my dad…" he cuts himself off as he pulls up his jeep into an empty spot, one of the ones usually reserved for doctors but they're all gone now. The worry is evident in his body language and his expression. He doesn't finish the sentence because it doesn't need finishing. 'My dad could be dead.' 'My dad could be strung up right now as a human sacrifice.'

He can't be dead. Not yet. Lydia hasn't screamed.

Lydia hasn't screamed. Yet. But her throat aches and she can barely talk and she wonders if she even can anymore.

---

Scott gets there right after them, pulling up on his bike and tugging his keys out. It's pouring with rain, and Stiles' hair is plastered to his face. He looks half wild, like he's seconds away from another killing spree. Scott thinks helping Lydia is the only thing keeping him anchored.

"Derek's got her," he shouts through the rain as Cora and Isaac stumble up, Isaac holding his jacket over her like a gentleman, "He's bringing her here."

"He's what?" Stiles snarls, eyes flaring blue in the darkness.

"Stiles," Scott snaps, letting his own eyes flare in warning at his friend. Keeping his voice low he holds Stiles' attention as he says, "Remember the plan."

Stiles has flinched back and now he freezes, staring at Scott with something that looks like a cross between surprise and awe. It's a funny look and it makes Scott uncomfortable.

"What is it?" he asks.

Stiles shakes his head, blinking like he imagined it, but then seems to shrug it off and just blurts it out, "It's just… for a minute there I thought your eyes were red."

Which is stupid.

Because Scott isn't an alpha. Is he?

"Come on!" Isaac shouts, giving up being a gentleman to Cora in favour of helping Lydia inside. Stiles loses focus for a second and then regains it with a startling clarity, spinning around and bounding up the stairs. "Why do you have that bat?" Isaac frowns.

"Because I like my bat," Stiles snaps back, and Scott's about to follow them when Cora grabs hold of his jacket, "Scott!" she says, and she's staring at his eyes with the same expression Stiles had. "Scott, your eyes were red."

"That's impossible," he says. She must have been imaging it; she and his best friend both.

"No," she says, rain turning her auburn hair dark brown as it streams down her face, "No, Scott it isn't. It's you. It's you they want. The alphas."

He frowns because he knows that, that's why they've got this plan… "I know that."

"No, they want you because you're an alpha."

He freezes, eyes widening, "No," he shakes his head, "No, I'm not."

"You are. Stiles sees it. Isaac sees it. Lydia and Allison and Malia and even I can see it. Your eyes still burn gold, but they won't for long."

"How does that… I'm not an alpha… I'm a beta… not even a beta, an omega…"

Cora laughs, "Whose heard of an omega who leads a pack?" she curls her lips, "No, listen to me. They are something rare. It doesn't happen that often, but it can. I think it's happening to you. The alpha power normally gets passed down through family lines, or if they're killed by whoever killed them. It's constant. But the number of packs changes all the time, so new alphas are created. In large families they're sometimes born. Or in bitten wolves… like you… they rise to the power. But they're rare. They are so, so rare. They're like unicorns, they're not actually meant to be real, but they are."

"What is it?" Scott sounds scared. Not scared.

Terrified.

"They call you a true alpha. It doesn't mean much, but you're an alpha and you won't have to kill to get it. It's your rightful power, all you have to do is claim it. It's your pack and you who make that power. Your strength, your kindness, your will-power. It's already in you, Scott, you don't have to do anything. It will come to you. Just don't let it go. Don't let Deucalion crush it. Because you? You're the sort of alpha I came back to Beacon Hills for. It's your pack I want to join."

"For Isaac?" Scott asks.

She nods, slightly hesitantly, "Mostly, I guess. But because Beacon Hills is my home. And I don't want to leave."

"Hopefully," Scott says, "None of us will." His hand finds hers and he tugs her to the warmth of the hospital, out of the rain, "Come on," he says, apprehension churning in his stomach, and they head inside to find his pack.

His pack.

It's never felt so right.

---

Cora and Scott find the other three in one of the patient rooms. Melissa is chiding them in a gentle voice, even while she looks Lydia over with a caring eye that practically makes Scott swell with pride next to her. No wonder he's such a good person, Cora thinks, with a mother like Melissa who wouldn't be.

"We're supposed to be clearing the building," Melissa scolds, shining a light in Lydia's eyes to check for a concussion, "Why didn't you go to the other hospital?"

"In this storm?" Isaac surprisingly explains Stiles' reasons for him. Maybe it's because the blue-eyed werewolf looks seconds away from clawing up something. "That piece of metal Stiles calls a jeep wouldn't have made it. Besides - she has Stilinski - we don't have time to be driving to hospitals and Lydia said she was okay…"

"Okay?" Melissa raises one sceptical eyebrow, "Honey, you almost got strangled…"

Lydia makes a face and something tells Cora she'd be protesting was her throat not so badly bruised.

Scott's phone beeps and everybody with supernatural hearing turns to look at him. His heart picks up ever so slightly.

"Is that-" Stiles reminds her of Peter in those few seconds, eyes flashing and steely determination plastered over his face.

"Derek's here," Scott nods, "I'll go and meet him. You stay here."

"You're not going on your own," Stiles argues.

"I'll go," Isaac volunteers, and Scott doesn't argue. No doubt he wants Stiles and Lydia far away from the Darach. Cora meets Isaac's gaze for a second, and she nods, letting him slide out of the room past her.

"We'll meet you back here," Scott says.

"Scott, the hospital is evacuating… the last ambulance leaves in twenty minutes…"

"Good," he says, sounding like he's pleased with that, "That means less people are around to get hurt."

"Get hurt…"

"The alphas are going to come," Cora explains, "They're going to come for Jennifer."

"And you're helping her because…"

"Because she knows where my dad is," Stiles says, fingers tapping his baseball bat nervously, "She knows where my dad is and we… we need her."

Melissa's eyes are drawn to the bat, "Is that my baseball bat?"

He shakes his head, "No, I bought my own, I also got you a new one - it's under Scott's bed."

"Dude," Scott sounds really happy, like a puppy who has just been given a new toy at Christmas, "Thanks!" he shoots his friend a beaming smile and for a moment Cora doubts herself. This is the true alpha?

She frowns, "Are they always like that?"

"It's Scott and Stiles," Lydia huffs, voice weak, "Don't try to apply logic to those two."

Scott vanishes around the corner and Melissa finishes dabbing a salve on Lydia's bruises. She leans back, face crumpling because there is nothing more she can do to help. All she can do is sit there while her kids run around trying to fix everything.

A shadow appears at the door and the two werewolves are on their feet in seconds. Stiles relaxes first, if relax is even the right word.

"I thought he was dead," Melissa sounds aghast, staring at Peter Hale.

Peter just shuffles backwards, as if hiding in the shadows will hide him from view, "I get that a lot, actually," he mutters under his breath, turning to Cora, "The alphas are here."

"Already?"

Peter's about to reply when something grabs his attention. His head turns to one side, and Stiles makes a jolt forwards as if to help before remembering who it is. In that moment something grabs Peter, and Cora watches as her uncle goes flying down the corridor.

"Time to go," Stiles says, grabbing Lydia's hand, "Nice seeing you, Melissa, you should - uh - probably get out of here… bye!"

"Wha- Stiles, wait…"

None of them stick around. Cora, Stiles and Lydia burst out onto the corridor before they end up trapped in a tiny room by an alpha werewolf. They almost walk straight into where the twins stand merged and growling at the corridor where Peter is lying looking fed up with his life.

Cora goes straight for the twins, and Stiles and Lydia run to Peter, tugging him up. They knock her back with a snarl and eyes gleaming maliciously at her. But… maybe it's her imagination, but the twins don't hit as hard as they could. "Aiden," she hears Lydia scream down the corridor, "Ethan, don't!"

They let her go. That is; if 'let go' means throw her to the ground. Her head knocks against the wall, making her dizzy. Peter grabs her, tugging her up.

"The lift!" he says, and she staggers up, running down the corridor after the others.

Her head aches and she feels slightly ill. Her head is spinning and she hasn't felt like this since she last had an anxiety attack some four months ago when she got stuffed into a bank vault.

Well, she thinks, at least coming home has been exciting.

---

"Scott," Jennifer Blake greets him like she's still teaching him high school English, like she's still being supportive and concerned over his grade.

Scott greets her with silence, ignoring her entirely and turning to Derek, "You brought her here?" he asks, "Why?"

"Where else was I meant to take her?" Derek asks, frustration evident in his voice, "I wasn't going to leave her at my loft. The alphas know where that is and besides…" he doesn't finish the sentence but Scott can almost hear the 'but what if she murders someone' in his voice.

And at least while Jennifer is here she's not murdering Stiles' dad. At least while she's here she's not kidnapping someone else.

A howl rings out, interrupting further conversation.

"The alphas…" Jennifer looks worried.

"Come on," Scott gestures, to the hospital, "We need a plan."

It's not looking welcoming anymore. The hospital is dark and the power's gone.

"Are you sure about this?" Derek deadpans.

"Yes," Scott says, because somebody has to believe.

---

They crash around the corridor in a tangle of limbs. Lydia thinks that's mostly Stiles, who flails a lot when he runs.

"I thought you were meant to be a werewolf," Cora shoves Stiles off her and down the corridor, the alpha twins conjoined body thundering after them.

"Stiles does have moment of extreme competence," Peter admits, jogging after him.

"They're very rare," Lydia adds.

"The elevator!" Stiles says, gesturing Lydia towards it. She reaches it, slamming the button but nothing happens.

"Allow me," Peter practically purrs in her ear, and she steps aside, allowing him to slot his claws into the metal and force it apart with a horrible screech. Lydia doesn't care. Behind her Stiles and Cora take half a second to throw a fire extinguisher at the twins. It hits them in the head and Lydia can swear she hears it ringing. Both have glowing eyes and fangs.

"Come on!" she shouts, and Cora ditches first, spinning around and leaping for the elevator. Stiles pauses to lash out with his baseball bat and the impact of it actually appears to stun them for a second.

Cora skids up to her uncle, looking like she's fully prepared to dive straight into the life head first. She moves past Peter and that's when Lydia sees it.

"Woah!" Peter narrowly avoids falling straight down. Lydia's almost disappointed. The lift doors are open but the lift isn't there.

The lights above her head flicker as the storm rages outside.

"What…" Stiles skids to a halt, almost tripping straight past them into the elevator shaft, "Uh, not good," he says, abruptly, glancing up to where Lydia can see the unmoving elevator. His shoulders sink.

Peter roars. His eyes light up blue and his claws flash out and for a moment Lydia wonders if they can trick the alpha twins into falling down there. Stiles' own eyes flare blue and he goes back to help Peter with the twins, but Cora stays unmoving.

"Cora?" she asks, frowning at the other girl. The auburn haired werewolf looks pale. Slightly ill. There is blood trickling from a head wound. "Cora?"

Cora coughs, hacking up a mouthful of something Lydia already knows to be mistletoe in black blood, "Lydia?" Cora whispers, staring at the stuff in her palm, "I feel…"

Cora doesn't finish the sentence. "No!" Lydia lunges as she doubles over, but her fingers snatch on thin air as Cora topples over the side, leaving Lydia skidding near the open door, grasping for a hand hold before she follows the gold-eyed beta down. Bruised throat or not, Lydia screams; "CORA!"

---

"She was coughing mistletoe," Lydia's in near hysterics, "I couldn't catch her…"

Peter actually looks almost sad. But there's no time for that because with a roar Ethan and Aiden's fist crashes into the plaster near their heads. The elevator beeps, and Lydia scrambles back, away from the twins and from where had she been a second slower, she would have been clipped by the now plummeting elevator.

Peter grabs Lydia and Stiles both, tugging them out of the way and straight towards a nearby laundry shoot.

Stiles doesn't even think, going in head first. In retrospect he's lucky there's a basket at the other end filled with sheets, because otherwise he would have landed head first on the floor. Sure he's a werewolf and he'd heal but it's still worrisome.

Lydia lands on top of him, and she looks torn between being flustered that he's just dragged her down a laundry shoot and hysterical that Cora just fell down a fucking lift shaft while coughing mistletoe.

Seconds later someone else lands on him, and with a growl he shoves Peter off, "You couldn't have waited, like, ten seconds?" he mutters, clambering out of the bin that stinks of human skin and sweat, "Ugh… so Cora…"

"She fell," Lydia falls out of the bin on top of him, "I couldn't catch her…"

"She was coughing mistletoe?" Peter repeats, his tone darkening. He doesn't say anything more but he doesn't need to.

"We need to get her out of there," Stiles says, "What floor are we on now?"

"Stiles, she fell all the way to the basement."

"Great," he says, "There's a garage on the basement - we can get out that way."

"And Scott?"

Stiles pauses, closing his eyes and trying to extend his senses beyond his and Lydia's racing hearts which have been his last focus for the past hour or so since finding her in the classroom. If he focusses on Lydia or Scott or Malia he can forget that his dad is-

He shoves down the instinctive anger that rises in him. The hospital is silent. There isn't even the thrum of power in the electric lines - the place is a dead zone.

The power is out.

A dead zone for power, he thinks, the lights dim and running on some back up line that keeps them barely lit and flickering. But not a dead zone for phones.

And with that he pulls out his cell phone and dials Scott.

---

"What do you mean Cora fell down an elevator shaft?" Scott says into his phone and Derek and Isaac spin around with twin looks of horror on their faces. Scott really hopes they don't pick now as a time to argue over Isaac dating Derek's little sister, and he turns away so he can hear what Stiles is saying.

"And the alpha twins are walking around in full voltron wolf looking to rip us apart and I'm pretty sure I scented Kali on one of the higher floors…"

"The twins?" Scott's voice does not squeak. He's not fourteen anymore and his voice most certainly didn't squeak.

There is a roar and that didn't come from over the phone.

"Where are you?" Scott shouts into his phone as Derek and Isaac snarl, stepping towards where the giant form of Ethan and Aiden merged together stands. The voltron (damn Stiles) wolf has no shirt on, and so it's clear to see the point where they merge. It looks like a badly stitched together monster of Frankenstein. According to Braeden before she cleared town; they actually had two spines and judging by the way those shoulder muscles ripple Scott can't say he's surprised.

The sound of heels clicking on the floor has him turning around, and by the time he does she's already out of sight. His heart skips a beat and on the other end of the phone Stiles shouts something at him.

"She's gone," Scott says, hearing Stiles curse, "Jennifer ran."

He thinks Stiles might drop the phone because with a clatter the sound becomes very muted. Scott takes about two steps after the woman who has been committing human sacrifices only for Derek to shout his name, "Scott! A little help here?"

Isaac's pinned to the wall and Derek's shoving himself up the floor. Scott spins around, growling and letting the shift come over him as he jogs down the corridor. He uses the wall to leap off, lashing down at the two twins. They stagger backwards, shaking their heads and looking slightly dazed but unbothered, "Where is she?" they growl, "We just want her."

"She ran!" Scott snaps, dropping to the ground with a spinning kick. The alphas drop Isaac who Derek hurries away towards the emergency stairwell, and Scott doesn't even hesitate to bolt after them.

They race down the stairs, Derek craning to look over his shoulder, "What do you mean 'she ran'?" he snarls, "And Cora…?"

"Cora's…" to say 'fine' would be a lie, "We'll work something out- holy-" they door opens and they almost walk straight into a startled Peter.

"Where's the Darach?" he says with a sneer as Scott shoves past him, "Don't tell me you lost her?"

"Where's Cora?" Isaac demands, following Scott into the corridor, "And Stiles and Lydia?"

"Stiles is half-way between a panic attack and a murder spree," Peter drawls, looking like he's considering the stairs in some attempt to make a quick escape before the fighting starts, but at the roar echoing down it; realises it's not the best idea.

Scott shoves through the nearest double-doors into an operating room. Peter's right - Stiles's eyes are azure blue and his claws are out, but judging from the heavy breathing he's bordering on a panic attack. Lydia's grasping onto his hand so tightly it looks like her nails should be drawing blood. She looks terrified; hair in a mess around her shoulders and eyes wide.

His best friend looks up as Derek and Isaac stagger in after him with Peter bringing up the rear and then proceeding to shove as much crap as he can in front of the door to block it from the alpha twins. "What happened to her?" Stiles asks, eyes wide, "Scott…?"

"The twins got in the way," Scott shakes his head, "We lost her…"

"Never mind Jennifer!" Isaac snarls, "Where's Cora?"

"She fell down the elevator shaft," Stiles says, "She was coughing out mistletoe and black blood and I think it's like Danny. I think Jennifer did something-" He doesn't finish the sentence because Isaac punches him in the face.

Isaac shakes out his fist, glaring at Stiles. "That's for letting my girlfriend fall down an elevator shaft." Derek looks mildly appreciative of Isaac's actions, and Scott thinks Isaac's just been approved as boyfriend material in the big brother's eyes.

Stiles staggers back several paces, and he doesn't even look angry, "Fair enough," he mutters, in a drawl eerily reminisce of Peter's reaction to threats and violence, but Scott ignores that.

"Where are the twins?" Lydia asks, but it's more of a throaty whisper that sounds painful.

"Can we make that go away?" Isaac asks, and cautiously offers Lydia her hand. For a moment, apart from some intense staring, nothing happens. Then, with a gasp, black line thread from Lydia's throat down her arm to Isaac's fingers. And Isaac… Isaac's crying. Lydia offers him a weak smile and he drops his hand away, staring at in wonder.

"Thank you," Lydia whispers. Isaac does this little sort of half-nod, as if he's still trying to get around what he can do now he's a werewolf. Isaac has spent his whole life being hurt and now he can stop other people from hurting.

Peter sneers, interrupting the moment, "That's touching," he rolls his eyes.

"You never showed me that," Stiles snaps, on edge, "Are the twins still around?"

"Somewhere," Derek shrugs, "Quiet."

"Why?" Stiles flashes fangs, "Why the hell did you bring Jennifer here, huh? Where's my dad? Did you find him?"

"We will," Scott says, and as predicted Stiles flashes blue eyes at him.

"This wasn't part of the plan!"

"You think I don't know that?" Scott says, his chest tight like in those moments before he used to get asthma attacks, "I'm trying to keep track of everything but there are too many players, too many moves - I don't play chess, Stiles! I can't keep up with five moves at once!"

Stiles glares at him, "If this goes wrong and my dad gets hurt that's on you," he snaps, "Okay? You're the one who is trying to play the druid AND the alpha pack, but how long are we going to manage to keep this up? The alphas are out for our blood and you brought the Darach here…"

"We brought her here to stop the alphas killing her," Derek snaps, and Scott's almost grateful for the alpha taking the brunt of Stiles' raw, emotional anger away from him.

"Well tough, they followed us here!"

"Guys!" Lydia tries to get them to stop arguing. It doesn't work.

"So I say we give them to her."

"But then you don't find your dad. They'll kill her."

Stiles swears.

"And Cora," Isaac adds, "We can't leave her."

"We need Jennifer alive," Derek says, "For now," he tacks on the end, almost grudgingly.

"That's right," the occupants of the room spin around. "I can help your sister," the double doors at the other end of the operating room swing open and Jennifer crashes through. It's probably that sentence that saves her life but even then Derek looks angry.

"What did you do to her?"

"I didn't do anything!" she snaps and though her heart beats true it's still a lie. "I can heal her… where is she?"

"She fell down an elevator shaft you bi-"

"Even if you could heal her," Scott interrupts, "We need to get her out of there. Where is she?"

There's a pause, and Lydia shoots him such a venom filled glare of 'you're kidding me, right' that Scott almost wants to punch himself. Because duh - where else would Cora be?

"I'd like to volunteer a different method of persuasion," Peter takes a slow step forwards, "Let's torture her."

"I'm in," Stiles says, and even Lydia looks like she can get aboard with that.

"We are not torturing or killing anyone," Scott snaps, and he wonders if his eyes flare because everyone turns to look at him sharply. He feels it almost, like thin pieces of thread tying him to Stiles, to Lydia and to Isaac. They're not real. Pack bonds don't really exist like that; they're in his head, but he knows they're there in spirit.

And now they're looking to him to work something out.

He glances at his friends… at his pack… because he can't do this alone.

Lydia presses her lips together and Isaac nods. Stiles just meets his gaze silently, mind racing a mile a minute and probably already planning contingencies. He doesn't look happy; tense and nervous and they need to be doing something, not standing here talking it all out.

Scott can work with that.

"I was trying to not get killed," Jennifer doesn't seem to sense the tension in the air, "You can't fault me for that."

"If you want our help you're going to have to give a little," Derek snaps.

"If you're going to need my help you're going to have to trust me."

"Fat chance," Isaac growls.

"Like it or not you need me," their teacher brings herself up to her full height, staring at them all. She's not a scared English teacher now. She's not an ordinary human.

This is the person who has been sacrificing people for the past month. This is the person who tried to poison them all with wolfsbane at that motel. This is the person who has kidnapped Stiles' dad and will kidnap two more for some bloody vendetta.

"Whose emissary were you?" Scott asks.

"Is that really important?" Peter drawls.

"It might be," Scott says, fixing the former dead-werewolf with a glare.

"Kali's," Jennifer doesn't even try to hide the sneer in her voice, "I was Kali's emissary. She thought she killed me but I survived. And I swore I'd make them pay. All of them." Her eyes gleam as she looks at Scott, "They want you; don't they? You and Derek both - the last of the Hales… and a teenage boy…" she laughs, "Oh, what they've come in that stupid war of theirs."

Lydia and Stiles turn to frown at Scott, and even Derek looks confused.

"You didn't know?" Jennifer notices, "They want Scott in their pack. Deucalion is, at heart, a collector. He wants the rarest of the rare."

"Oh," Peter must know what it is - Cora must have learnt it from somewhere, he guesses, "Our little Scott," the sociopath sounds almost fond.

"What?" Derek sounds alarmed. Isaac, Stiles and Lydia just looks confused and…

And maybe a little scared. Or maybe he's imagining it.

"He's a true alpha," Peter spits out the words, and is he resentful- "He doesn't have to steal the power - he'll rise to be an alpha by the force of his own will. It must be fate, then, that I bit you in the woods the night."

Scott's stomach churn, and he's already turning to his best friend because he had barely known himself and he didn't want his friends to find out this way but Stiles-

Stiles doesn't look jealous. He just looks deathly calm and trusting, "We need to distract the twins," he says, "I can do that…"

"No," Scott says, "I need you to get Cora and Lydia out of here."

"I can look after myself," Lydia hisses, but it's dry and lacks volume. Stiles raises one eyebrow. Lydia sighs, "Fine; I'll help with Cora."

Scott turns to Isaac, "Can you help Stiles?" As expected Isaac nods. Scott volunteers himself, "I'll distract the twins."

Derek nods, "I'll help."

"Oh no," Jennifer shakes her head, "I'm not going without Derek."

"Then I'll do it," Peter shrugs, "But I'm not going it without an advantage." Peter sounds like he's trying bargain his way through a gambling game, except this time there are lives at stake, "What?" Peter says when they turn to him, "You saw that monster! I don't stand a chance on my own."

"He's got a point," Lydia says, voice dry.

Scott splays out his hands, staring at the older man, "What do you want?" he asks, trying to work out what sort of advantage they can get trapped in the hospital.

"Something better than a baseball bat," Peter remarks. Stiles glares at him, even though he's not even the one holding the bat. Lydia appears to have stolen it from him and giving it a few experimental swings, just about avoiding hitting Stiles in the head, she hums. Scott gets an awful feeling that Stiles is going to have to buy a new bat.

"What about these?" Stiles pulls out a defibrillator from the trolley just behind him near the operating table.

"Do you know how to use those?" Derek asks, and when Stiles shakes his head he adds, "Put them back."

"I could work it out," Lydia volunteers, taking them from Stiles. She looks like she's considering testing them on Peter who is closest to her. As if sensing that, the older werewolf moves out of her way.

Isaac pulls out a large and very intimidating syringe from somewhere. "Epinephrine?" he reads the label and ends up bungling the pronunciation so badly that Scott's forced to correct him on it.

Derek once again seems to know what that means, "That will only make them stronger."

Peter looks interested, "How much stronger?"

Stiles frowns, "Are you telling me a giant needle is better than my Betty?"

"You named your baseball bat, Betty?"

"Not the point."

"I like the name," Lydia says, swinging said bat; "Ready to go?"

There's a pause as almost everyone in the room turns, just for the satisfaction of watching Derek stab his uncle with a giant needle. "You're all a bunch of sadists," Peter winces, his eyes lighting blue and claws sliding out, "Okay, let's rumble."

---

The hospital is deserted.

Chris holsters his gun, expression grim and next to him Allison grabs her ring daggers. Malia sniffs once at the weapons in her trunks then steps backwards, letting her claws out, "I'm okay," she says, meeting Allison's gaze. Allison nods.

Her dad had wanted to drive her straight home. He had wanted her away from the mess; far, far away. Allison had thought she would need to argue her point; had thought she would have to drill into his head about her new code that he refuses to acknowledge; about getting revenge for mom…

It hadn't even taken that much. Looking around at the ruined classroom with desks strewn everywhere, a shattered window and a missing Sheriff. "There are going to be two more sacrifices," Allison had whispered.

That was all it took.

The hospital is deserted. They must have evacuated due to the storm. Trees are buffeting at windows, and the lights are dark. The three of them pause, as if not quite sure how to handle it.

"I think we're late to the party," Allison whispers.

"They're all in there?" Chris checks with her again.

Allison doesn't know. She checks her phone, re-reading the frantic text from Scott. She nods slowly, biting her lip and saying, "Scott says he has a plan but I think he's just making this up as he goes along." It doesn't matter. She trusts Scott. He got them through the debacle with Gerard and the kanima. He had gotten them so far.

"We need to get the Darach out," Chris says, voice dark, "And the alphas pinned down."

"We can do that," Malia says, sounding braver than she probably feels.

"Yeah," Allison spins her dagger around her finger, staring up at the dark building, "Should be easy, right?"

---

Maybe Stiles is right.

This is an awful plan.

Peter's so high on the drugs that he barely seems to notice the twins have landed several blows on him. Scott's decidedly not high - he likes his senses about him - so he uses his wits. He uses the wall of the corridor to give him height. He uses the beds and trolleys left everywhere to trip the fusion twins up. With a roar they lash out. Peter goes crashing backwards, eyes blazing the same steel blue as Malia and Stiles, and Scott gets slammed up against the wall, a hand to his throat.

This sort of situation is becoming increasingly familiar.

"Hey!" someone shouts, "That's my son!"

Scott's almost glad that Lydia hadn't taken the defibrillator, because if she had then his mother obviously wouldn't have been able to grab it, turning the voltage on high and powering it on.

Electricity interferes with a shapeshifter's shift. It can either trap someone permanently, stop the shift from happening or trigger one. In this case the twins shudder, their conjoined bodies jerking violently and with sickening pops. By the time they fall to the ground they are two separate people again.

"Wow," Peter mumbles, dazed, "Tha's hot."

"Shut up!" Scott and Melissa snap at him in sync.

"You okay?" his mother helps him up, brushing off what looks like pieces of the hospital wall from his jacket.

He nods, rubbing at a bruise that he can already feel healing, "That was amazing," he says, glancing at where Ethan and Aiden are still trembling. They're either paralyzed or unconscious. "I thought you were meant to be getting out?" he asks his mother, alarm in his voice, "What happened to the evacuation?"

"Oh, sweetie," Melissa says, "Everyone's gone. I was leaving but… Deucalion… he cornered me."

"Did he-"

"He didn't hurt me, I'm fine," his mother shakes her head, "He told me it was dangerous wandering about alone. And… he said that you're out of time. Whatever that means… Scott, what does it mean? What are you doing?"

Scott looks up, meeting her worried gaze and wishing he could spit out something smart. What he's doing is stupid, what he's doing might be the only option he has left.

On the floor, Ethan and Aiden groan, beginning to stir.

"We have to go," Scott grabs his mother's arms, "Come on…"

"What's the matter with him?" Melissa jerks her head towards Peter.

Scott glances past her to where the older man looks seconds away from falling asleep on the hospital floor, "He's high," he says. "Adrenaline rush."

His mom nods in understanding, "Of course. Well we better help him out of here."

---

Derek tugs the Darach turned English teacher down one of the hospital corridors. Above him he can hear footsteps and it could be Kali, it could be Scott, it could be anybody. He doesn't have time to stop and listen; they need to get out of here.

And Cora…

He forces himself to worry about the issue at hand. He can't do anything for Cora now. All he can do is make sure the alphas don't kill their only chance at finding the Sheriff and stopping the sacrifices.

"I'll help her. I can help your sister if you help me," Jennifer says, as if she has any choice. If she doesn't help then they'll kill her. She'd probably be more useful dead at this rate anyway and Derek almost regrets not letting Stiles and Peter end her. He settles for glaring at her, his gaze ruby red and threatening but she doesn't flinch.

"You're the one who did something in the first place," he accuses, because Cora should have been fine. She should have been fine, not coughing up mistletoe and falling down elevator shafts.

Jennifer doesn't even try to deny it, "I'm doing what I have to," she says, "The Nemeton was great once. At the height of its power its branches touched the sky; its roots ran deep and powerful. Nobody is sure what happened to it, but one day it was gone. Someone, something destroyed it… but there was still power lingering there. Like an… afterimage. The dying embers of a burnt out fire."

Derek pauses on the stairs leading up to the ground floor, turning to her, "Why are you telling me, this?" he asks.

"Because you and I, Derek? We're linked. The power in the tree wouldn't have done me any good, had it not tasted blood. A few months before someone died there. A young, innocent girl had her blood spilled in the roots of that tree…"

Derek wants to flinch away, wants to punch her and make her shut up…

"That spark of power was enough to let me live. You saved me, Derek," Jennifer whispers, "You saved me then, just like you saved me during the full moon. Just like you're going to save me now…"

Derek's spent long enough around Kate Argent to know when he's being manipulated. He turns away and doesn't listen, shoving open the door at the top of the stairs, ignoring the Darach's esasperated shouting of his name as she stumbles out after him.

She almost walks straight into his back. He's staring down the corridor at where Kali whirls around, eyes like red fire burning and fixating on the pair of them. The female alpha's lips curl in a snarl-

"Get back!" Derek shoves Jennifer back to the stairs. She stumbles, and slides out of his way, lowering her head. Derek hears the moments her heartbeat changes, can taste it in the air when her human scent turns sour.

She no longer smells like a living, breathing human; she smells like blood and ozone and something earthy.

Kali makes it half way down the corridor before Jennifer moves, eyes lighting up with a white light, gleaming like the moon as she shoves her hands out in front of her.

Kali goes flying backwards, and Derek doesn't waste time. He backs so fast into the stairwell he almost falls down them, Jennifer right behind him.

"Change of plan," Derek snaps, "We get to the basement, we get Cora out, we take the ambulance…"

"Julia Baccari."

"What?" he turns his head as the stairs take them back to where they were a few minuets ago, glancing down both corridors for the stairs to the basement garage.

"That was my name," Jennifer says, as if he deserves to know.

"I don't care," he spots the sign to the garage and heads towards it.

"Probably should have changed my initials," she laughs weakly, her heels clicking as she follows him for a few steps and then stops, "But I wanted to keep something of myself. It was something I couldn't bear to change… after all, I had already lost my face. But you… you haven't seen it, have you, Derek?"

Derek turns to ask her why she's not following, to ask her what she thinks telling him all this will do…

For a moment she's human. Human with dark hair and soft eyes and then she's not. Her hair is gone and her face has deep claw marks scarred through it. She might have been pretty once with a different face and blue eyes, but her body is nothing but a web of scars.

She's a monster. The alpha pack have made their own undoing, Derek thinks, seconds before with a flash of bone white eyes she lashes out, and the last thing Derek sees is the false image of Jennifer Blake, blinking down at him.

"It's okay," she whispers, "They won't hurt anybody else. I won't let them."

---

The basement is dark, the overhead lights flickering with a faint greenish glow that illuminates the werewolves' eyes. For a moment, looking at Isaac and Stiles, their eyes are almost completely reflective. It's like looking at a dog or a cat, not a human.

It's creepy.

It's also not the most important thing right now. The most important thing is getting to Cora. Lydia stops in front of the elevator, stepping aside so the two superhumans can slide their claws into the metal, tugging it apart. The noise sends loud metallic screeches throughout the whole basement and Lydia winces.

"So I probably wasn't the only person who heard that," she says, voice tense, "You two better hurry." She turns from examining the garage behind them, only to see that both boys have paused.

"Cora!" the sound out of Isaac's mouth couldn't be called a whine, or even a cry. It was too pathetic for that, even more so when Isaac threw himself forwards, clawing at the elevator as if it could get him closer.

Lydia can barely see her. The absence of light in the garage makes it hard to see already, and the fact that the elevator's come to a jagged, unexpected stop about half-way down when the power died didn't help matters.

Cora's trapped between the floor and the elevator above her. Lydia can't even tell if she's still breathing.

"I can hear her heartbeat," Stiles whispers, as Isaac tries to slide through to her. The gap is tiny. Too small, Lydia thinks, it's too small and Isaac will never fit through there. It's a miracle in itself that Cora wasn't crushed, that there's actually a space underneath, a crawl hole of sorts between where the elevator floor meets the ground. "Isaac!" Stiles grabs hold of the other beta, trying to stop him clawing up the floor in an attempt to reach her, "That's solid metal!"

"You're making too much noise," Lydia adds, glancing once again over her shoulder, "You can't get to her…"

"We need to move the elevator," Stiles realises, "We need to move the elevator…"

"Then help me!" Isaac snarls, and there's a brief moment in which Lydia thinks the two werewolves are going to rip each other to shreds as Stiles grabs Isaac bodily, dragging him backwards and only just avoiding a claw in his eye.

"Think it through, dumbass," he snaps, "We can't lift something that big! We need to the power back on."

"The power's out," Isaac says, dumbly.

Lydia shakes her head, realising their solution and their problem, "The emergency generators. There are emergency generators on the roof."

---

Scott's phone beeps with a text and he freezes in the middle of the corridor. Peter almost slides off his shoulder from where he's been helping the older wolf. Looking somewhat recovered, Peter throws off his arm like it burns him, "What went wrong?" he asks, as if it's almost expected by now.

"They can't get to Cora. They need the power back on. And Derek…" Scott pauses, "Derek isn't answering his phone."

"That shot didn't last very long," Peter winces, glancing the way they came, "Do you think the twins are still after us?"

"After that much electricity?" Melissa's laugh is slightly hysterical, "No human would be… but of course, you're not human…"

"Hang on…" Peter lifts a hand in the air, pausing, "I hear something…"

Scott immediately slides in front of his mother, claws out and eyes glowing.

He doesn't know what colour.

Peter doesn't seem keen to do anything, so Scott is the one who steps forwards, cautiously, nervously…

He rounds the corner and his heart almost beats out of his skin when a blue-eyed snarling coyote girl takes an aggressive step forwards then falls back, "Scott," she jumps, "I'm sorry, I couldn't smell you - the rain hides everyone's scents."

"Malia?" he blinks in relief at seeing her, his gaze drifting past her to where the Argents - both of them - have weapons drawn as if they're seconds away from shooting or stabbing Scott.

"Oh," Allison lowers her knives and even Chris lowers his gun, "It's you."

"Us," Scott says, glancing to his mother next to him, and then doing a double take when he notices that Peter's gone. Scott's not even surprised, "You took your time," he said, feeling petulant but not knowing what else to say.

"Let me guess," Allison says, good-naturedly, "You needed us."

"Always," Scott smiles back, and Chris and Melissa clear their throats loudly. Allison and Scott both proceed to look at anywhere other than each other.

"What's with the guns?" Malia asks, looking a little put-off by Argent's weapons.

"It's a sign that I'm a little worried," Chris says, slowly, "Where are the others?"

"Getting out," Scott says, "At least… they're meant to be. Cora fell down an elevator shaft. She's trapped - we need the power back on to move her."

"And the Darach?" Allison asks, looking around as if expecting to see their English teacher step out of the nearby radiology wing.

"She went with Derek," Scott shrugs, "We were meant to be getting out but…"

"Why can't we just go?" Malia frowns.

"Not without Derek or Cora," Scott emphasises.

"But they're weak," Malia says, eyes wide, "If they're weak, we can't get held down, can we?"

"Would you leave if it was Stiles?" Allison asks her, and Malia's eyes widen in understanding.

"Which one is the English teacher again?" Chris frowns.

"Brown hair," Malia says, "Smells like cherries."

"Cherries?"

Nobody else even questions it and Scott thinks he probably shouldn't bother.

"I can get the power back on," Melissa says, "There's a back-up generator on the roof."

"You're not going alone," Scott gazes at her in worry. "Not with the alphas around."

"I'll help her," Chris shrugs.

"But the alphas will go after you," Allison frowns, and someone's phone beeps. Allison pulls hers out, and reads out the message, "The ambulance is a bust. The driver's dead and Kali has the keys," she looks up at the others, "Cora's still trapped…"

"So we need a distraction," Scott says. "A distraction and a way out."

Allison grins, flashing her teeth, "I think I might have a plan."

---

"She called this a plan?"

"You heard Scott's plan, did you really think Allison was going to have anything better?"

Stiles finds Malia in the stairwell, and they duck out of it as quickly as possible when the sound of claws on the hospital floor echo towards them. "I used to be the one with the plans," Stiles laughs, almost breathlessly as they run, "Mind you: mine never used to be much better…"

"I don't know," Malia hums, "You helped me, didn't you?"

"Yeah," he says, as they hit the main corridor and start running, "I guess I did."

He and Malia are the fastest. A floor above them they hear someone moving, but neither of them stop to determine whether it's the twins or Kali. They make straight for the entrance. A roar signals that at least somebody is giving chase.

It's no longer raining outside. It smells of petrichor and the faint tang of electricity that makes Stiles' bones ache this close to the full moon. He's tracking heartbeats in his head, and he and Malia throw themselves into Argent's large Toyota.

A window somewhere shatters and Stiles almost crawls out of his skin because he was not expecting Kali to throw herself out of a window.

The twins barrel out of the front door, thankfully separate and not fused together. They don't even slow as Kali lands between them, her eyes filled with red.

"Drive!" Allison shouts, stringing an arrow to her bow and letting it fly. It's a flare arrow, and it has the desired effect. She gets off about three, but Stiles is trying too hard not to listen. He waits for the expected door slam and then floors the gas.

"How do you even fit that thing in the backseat?" he asks, peering in the rear view mirror and blinking at how Allison somehow manages to fit her recurve bow into the backseat.

"Focus on driving, Stiles!"

---

The power turns back on with a muted hum.

"Cora!"

Lydia waits by the entrance to the elevator, helping Isaac as he stabs the up button on the elevator and then throws himself under it the second the gap is big enough.

"Is she okay?" she asks, and Isaac doesn't say anything. He grabs the girl, cradling her too him. Lydia wishes she could help, that she had super strength or something…

"Here, let me…" Peter appears from nowhere, grabbing Cora from Isaac so he can lift himself out of the metal and dirt pit at the bottom of the elevator. Lydia gives him the evil eye, but Peter appears genuinely worried for his niece. "What's the plan?"

In a screech of tyres the Argent's car screeches into the basement. "That's the plan," Lydia hums, "Hmm - has Chris seen you since you killed your sister?"

"No," Peter sounds almost petulant, "But thankfully that's not Chris…"

The doors open and Stiles, Malia and Allison clamber out. Stiles tosses the keys to Isaac; he and Malia both looking ready to run bait again. "Where's Scott?" he asks, glancing around as Peter helps to load up Cora into the back seat.

"Went to look for Derek," Allison replies. Stiles frowns, spinning around as if looking for them.

"Why was he looking for Derek?" he says, sounding confused. "And shouldn't your dad be here? The power's back on…"

"He's a human," Allison snaps, "He's not as fast as you."

There's something in the air. Lydia can taste it. It's weird, she thinks in a daze. It's like the taste of salt before you see the sea. Or the taste of the air before a thunderstorm.

The taste of metal and blood before a panic attack.

---

"Derek? Derek! Der-" Scott finally finds Derek.

He's not conscious. He's lying down the corridor as a huddled lump and the only reason Scott even finds him is because he almost trips over him.

"Derek?" he asks, his immediate concern Derek's health.

His second concern is where the hell Jennifer has gotten to.

His third concern are the gunshots that even without werewolf hearing, are clear to hear throughout the whole hospital.

Only then does his mind jump to his mother.

---

Stiles is about to head for the car when he hears the faint ricocheting. It's quiet. The other werewolves don't notice but then the other werewolves can't track the heartbeats moving around the hospital the same way he can if he focuses for half a second.

"Where did your dad go again?" he asks Allison.

"He went to the roof to help Melissa turn the power back on," Allison says, frowning because of course Stiles should know this. Stiles knows everything, people don't even ask him how anymore but right now…

Right now Stiles is functioning with a missing dad and there's a form pinned to the ambulance, and there are gunshots and Chris and Melissa are out there with Scott and Derek and Jennifer and…

Allison frowns at him, leaning into his eye-line, but he stares straight through her not seeing her at all. "Stiles?" she asks, waving a hand in front of his face, "Stiles? What's the matter?"

"Where's Jennifer?" Stiles whispers, as pieces begin to fall into place, "Where are Derek and Jennifer?"

Allison opens herself mouth to answer when Lydia appears, "Let's go!" Lydia shouts, "Come on! Let's move it…"

"Where's Jennifer?" Stiles says again, his gaze panicked as he meets Allison's brown eyes, "Where is she?"

"I don't… she was with Derek…"

"Then why…" Stiles whispers, "Why did Scott have to go to look for them?"

"Stiles? What are you getting at?"

"I heard gunshots. I heard… your dad…"

Lydia lets out a gasp. It's quiet, almost silent but Stiles hears it. He turns to her, and she shakes her head, "Nothing," she whispers, "It's just… it's like when you go over a rollercoaster and your stomach falls out beneath you. I just felt…"

"Felt what? Lydia?" Allison sounds increasingly worried and that's when Stiles moves, stepping around Allison to the piece of paper that is fluttering in his attention, looking to the line at the bottom for signatures.

Parents.

Or Guardians.

"Guardians," he says as if that explains everything.

"Stiles?" Allison asks, and Stiles is stepping backwards, breathing sharp and fast and- "Stiles?" she asks, "What's wrong?"

"Guardians. She's going after guardians. She's going after our parents..."

He doesn't even wait before throwing himself back towards the stairs.

---

"Why aren't we going?" Peter asks, "The twins are going to be here any second."

Isaac's fingers dance on the wheel, "Guys?" he asks, even as Malia throws herself in the back seat next to her…

God, Cora is her cousin.

Peter smirks as she sits herself there, and Malia glares at him. It makes her feel better.

The abandoned ambulance sits in the middle of the garage, and Lydia, Allison and Stiles are standing by it.

"What are they waiting for?" Peter snarls, glancing down at his niece who he appears to be more concerned for than he is for Malia…

Not that she wants or needs his concern or anything…

"Stiles!" someone shouts and Malia's head snaps up, but it's to see the door slam closed as Stiles vanishes up the stairs. Allison is right behind him and Lydia flounders for a moment, turning to look at where the pair vanished and then at where the others sit in the car. Letting out an exasperated hiss, Lydia freezes mid-way through, the air dying behind her teeth.

"Lydia?" Malia asks, recognising when something is wrong. The red-head has frozen, staring at the ambulance and then at where Stiles and Allison last were standing, "Lydia, what's wrong…?" she shoves open the door, making as if to go to the banshee.

"Not you too…" Peter grumbles.

But then Lydia's spinning around, running towards them surprisingly quickly in heels. She whirls around the car and Malia slides back in as Lydia throws herself into the passenger door with surprising grace.

"Now can we go?"

"What about the others?" Isaac asks, "What about Scott?"

"Drive!" Lydia says, "Isaac, drive."

"But-" Isaac makes as if to protest, but then he sees the same thing Lydia had. The twins have finally shaken off the flare arrows and come to find them.

"For the love of God, can we go?" Peter shouts, "Drive! Drive!"

"Okay!" Isaac finally shifts the car into gear, "Where did Stiles and Allison go? What was that about? Is this the great plan you keep going on about?"

"No," Lydia's breathing is heavy. Her heart keeps stuttering and ignoring Peter's squawk of indignation, Malia sticks her head between the seats, mindful of her unconscious cousin.

"You smell off," Malia says, and it comes out quieter and more sympathetic than it sounds.

"Stiles heard gunshots," Lydia whispers, "Stiles heard gunshots and I wanted to scream."

"Scream?" Peter shoves Malia out of the way, "Who died?"

"Nobody died," Lydia sounds like death. She sounds pale and trembling and her throat sounds awful and- "Not yet. But it's guardians."

"We know that," Isaac spins the wheel more violently than he should, "Guardians like police, right?"

"No," Lydia breathes, "Guardians like parents."

---

The night air is cool and crisp in the absence of the rain. On the roof top it's beginning to turn to mist, drifting over the large fenced of section where the hospital generators are located.

Scott crashes through the door with no regard for any of it. He splashes through a puddle sending water spraying everywhere but doesn't care.

"She's already gone."

"No," he whispers, spinning around frantically but the only scent on the breeze is ozone and earth, "No, Mom? MOM?!"

"If you were with me I could have told you this was coming."

'If you were with me' mocks him.

Yes, Scott thinks, that's the plan. That's the plan and it will be bad enough, pretending to be friends with a guy you hate, but it's going to be even worse for his friends who don't have their parents.

Neither does he, he thinks. He doesn't have his mother. His mother is gone…

There are still warm bullets on the ground from where Chris had probably been standing and shooting. He's not there now. He's gone, just like Scott's mother. Just like Stiles' father.

Gone. Missing. Taken.

"I can help you, Scott, if you'll let me."

She has all three, Scott thinks, she has all three. What's to stop her killing them all now? What's to stop her ending this…?

He's got to believe.

It's the only thing he can do.

He doesn't say anything. He doesn't really need to. He starts walking to where Deucalion lounges on the rooftop as if he already knows Scott's answer.

"Scott!" Stiles appears in a crash of the door, "Scott, don't, this won't work, we'll be too late, Scott!"

He doesn't turn. He doesn't even look. If he looks he thinks he might turn back.

"Scott?" Stiles' voice is broken. Questioning and uncertain and for once he sounds the seventeen years old he actually is, "Scott… we'll work something out. We always do…"

Scott pauses then, and without turning he says, "We already have."

His best friend doesn't say anything else. He just stands there, and watches.

And Scott walks away, Deucalion's lips curling in triumph as Scott crosses over to the alpha's side.