When Jackson's arm was bandaged by the nurse (obviously Peter's accomplice…Mal wondered if she was promised the bite as well) some smelling salts brought him around. He screamed and lurched backward when he saw Peter Hale wiping his mouth with a napkin. It was stained red, from ketchup…or something else.

Jackson looked down at his arm and rubbed at the bandage. Then he looked at Mal.

"What now?" he asked. Any sense of control over his life was gone. He would likely need to be given commands for the rest of his life.

"Now you take me to my car. Perhaps by tomorrow you will have turned. Or died." Mal yawned.

"What?" Jackson shrieked.

"Didn't Mal mention that? You could turn…or you could die. I'm betting you turn. Goodnight boys, I'm rather tired." Peter yawned too.

Mal dragged Jackson from the room, still sputtering, and put his hand out when they reached the car.

"Keys." There was no argument. They got in the car, and drove back to the school where Mal sent Jackson home.

Entering the dark silence of his bedroom, he undressed and dropped onto his bed, contemplating. Peter Hale had plans, but so did Mal. If they could cooperate, all well and good. But Mal was pretty sure that Peter would need to be put down before all of this was over. And he knew just the people to do it. He wondered if Peter suspected treachery. He was an old wily wolf, so probably… though Mal knew he had not detected any lies. And as long as Mal planned for it, he had the advantage.

The Book of Five Rings, a warriors guide to life and one that had helped shape his personal philosophy stated that you must see everything while appearing to see nothing. Then could you strike down your enemies unawares. It was a good book.

He slept, and dreamt his usual dream. A descent down a long and dark stairway, leading into total blackness. Something waited for him at the bottom. Something with teeth and claws. In his dream, Mal smiled and went to meet it.

The next morning, he left for school in his car, driving over to Jackson's house, the Beacon Hills equivalent of Wayne Manor. A knock on the door revealed Jackson's mother, who gestured him inside.

"Jack!" she called. "Company!"

Jackson waited for him in the living room. He looked healthy, though he still wore the bandage.

"Take it off." Mal pointed at it.

Jackson pulled off the bandage, and seemed unable to comprehend the unbroken skin beneath.

"Something on your mind, Jackie-boy?"

"What have I done? There's no taking it back."

"Yeah, that is true for many things in life. Don't tell me I popped your 'outside the box' cherry. You always struck me as…the experimental sort."

"What are you talking about? I feel like you just raped me with words."

Mal laughed out loud at that. "Now you've popped mine, people don't usually make me laugh. Don't regret, Jackson, adapt. When you see what comes with this, you'll be fine."

"From now on, anything I do well will be meaningless. I'll feel like I cheated."

"Who gives a fuck. Get over it. Lets go to school. Remember, play it cool, or Scott will have you figured out in a flash. Hell, maybe you guys can sense each other. I never thought to ask Peter. Regardless, you can never tell anyone what my part in this was. And both Scott and Derek Hale will be able to hear it if you lie. So be careful. Best to stay out of their way altogether."

"Why did you do this to me?"

Mal stared at him. "You walked all the way into the hospital room with me, but I did this to you?"

"I changed my mind at the last second."

"Duh, that's why I grabbed you."

"And what was with the ketchup?"

"My sick sense of humor. Just trying to lighten the mood. Have you tried it out yet?"

Jackson shook his head.

Mal rolled his eyes and put his face in his hands. Jackson Whitmore, ultimate predator. Ultimate tool, more like.

"C'mon, Jackass."

"It's Jackson."

"Let's go! After school, we can go abuse your powers somewhere."

"I have practice."

"My god, does Lydia put a pillow over your face when she's screwing you? Or just a ball-gag? You are ruining my wood for the day."

"Don't talk about Lydia like that." Muttered Jackson, a hint of growl coming into his voice.

"Jackson, she can't stand you. Trust me. You flunk out or stop being captain, and you will be dust in the wind. And you know it."

This news did nothing to enhance Jackson's mood, but he did get up and grab his jacket and knapsack.

Since Jackson was at practice, Mal decided to set up some of the other pieces in his little game. Soon, he was at the Argent's house. He rang the bell. A bordering on thirty dishy type opened the door.

"Hello, I'm here to-" Mal's eyes widened. So did hers.

'Damn it! How many goddamn players were there in this town?'

He changed tactics immediately.

"-talk to someone about killing some werewolves."

Her assessment of him was no less invasive than he of hers. They both knew what they were…and knew that the other knew also.

"You're a bit young for the killing games." She said dryly. The waves of 'Sarah Connor' from the terminator were pouring off of her. She was almost as dangerous as Peter.

"I have plenty of experience." Mal held his gaze level, and if she was any good at lie detecting, she'd know it was the truth.

"Come in." she stood aside. Mal had to remember to burn these clothes lest Peter smell any of them on him. This was a very dangerous game, which made him want to win it all the more.

They sat down on the couch in the spacious living room. If there were any other occupants in the home, they were not within earshot. Mal had to assume that every word was being recorded somehow.

"You know there is an Alpha in town." Mal began.

"Yes, and at least 2 Betas. Do you know who the Alpha is?" she asked intently.

"I have been doing research on that." Mal said with perfect truth. "If I find out more than I know now, I'll tell you."

"Why are you here, then?"

"The Alpha is…recruiting. I think there may be a third Beta, and there will be more over the next few weeks. Without you knowing his identity, it will be very hard to figure out a motive for doing this except the obvious. He's building a pack. Wolves do that when the prey-"

"-is too big to take down on their own. I know that. Hmm…recruiting, huh? Any ideas who they are?"

"I'll work this week on compiling a list for you."

"You never answer my questions with a yes or no. So I will ask this and I want a yes or no answer. Do you wish to see the werewolves die?" Her eyes were like lasers boring into Mal.

"Absolutely, and without a doubt, yes." Along with everyone else.

"Very good. I plan to annihilate every last one of them. Get that list to me, and see if you can find out the name of the Alpha. Do that, and we'll adopt you into the freaking family."

"And I would try to prove myself to you just like I did with my family."

"Here is my personal cell. Don't communicate with Allison or her parents. Just me, Kate."

Hmm. Definitely a maverick, and she had a woody for the werewolves. Mal suddenly began wondering about the unsolved arson attempt. From what Mal read, it had been a professional job, one that leaves no trace of a cause. Probably chemical. She didn't strike Mal as the scientific type, she would have gone to someone. The only chemical expert Mal knew of in this burg was Mr. Harris. He was way too dorky for her…not that she wouldn't use feminine wiles to get what she wanted. If it was her, Peter Hale would be a very happy werewolf if he got his claws into her. The pieces were setting up better than he had hoped. Soon, this town would be in the epicenter of an interspecies bloodbath.

"Got it. And Kate, thanks. You have no idea how much this means to me to have someone like you help me with my plans."

She smiled. "Likewise."

Mal left the house, whistling.