| CHAPTER FOUR, Alpha and Omega |

The flight home hadn't been anything of what they planned. First off, on their way over to the airport, Stiles heard a news report of a second attack in Hartford: their new destination. Second, Caleb, Pogue, and Reid all paid for the tickets, claiming this was their problem and their 'brother' so that's the way it was going to be. Third, Scott had decided to fly into Boston first, with Stiles, Lydia, Kate, and Sarah; he wanted to inspect Tyler's wounds and, if he could, inspect the four bodies. Reid also decided to join them, the tracking group only tracking them so he'd be able to get in on the fighting well enough.

To top it all off, Lydia dropped a bombshell on Scott. "You did what?" Stiles exclaimed first while Scott buried his face in his hands.

"You've got to be kidding me, Lydia," Scott said.

"I'm sorry, okay? I thought you could use his help."

"His help?" Stiles continued, hushing his raising voice for the benefit of his fellow passengers. "Of all people?"

"I know you hate him, Stiles, but you're biased."

"Yes, I do hate him. But you know who I hate less? And who'd probably be more helpful in this situation? Derek!"

"Stiles…I don't have Derek's number." This time it was Stiles' turn to facepalm.

"Lydia, you can't just supersede my authority—" Scott began.

"I am not part of your little rag tag, flea infested band of canine people," Lydia said.

Scott sighed. "We're not flea infested, Lydia," Scott said disbelievingly. "Look, you brought this problem to me. And the Sons of Ipswich trust me to help them. And with that they've trusted me with their secret. And now Jackson is going to be in the picture? I was hoping to not violate their confidence, and certainly not within the first 24 hours. And, yes, I hate him, too. You may still be harboring feelings for him but how long has it been? A year since you've spoken? Even longer since you've seen him? C'mon, Lydia, you know he's only gonna' bring more problems than any help is worth."

"I don't know that," Lydia said defiantly.

"Does he even know that I'm an alpha?"

Lydia didn't answer for a moment, angrily looking out the window she was next to. "I don't know what Jackson knows."

"You haven't told him?"

Lydia only shook her head.

"And Danny doesn't talk to him. As far as I know. So that means there's no real reason to think he knows."

Lydia sighed.

"So he's going to be pissed when he finds out. Right when he gets off the plane. Wonderful." Scott leaned forward onto his tray again, rubbing his eyes and forehead.

"How did you even get him to come?" Stiles finally asked.

"I have my ways," Lydia said, attempting to put her best face forward, not wanting to admit that maybe she had been wrong to get Jackson in on this hunt.

— | | —

"What's up, Reid?" Scott asked as he and Stiles shifted over; Lydia was going to the bathroom.

"I just wanted to thank you. In advance. I don't normally do this so just take what I'm saying now and don't expect one again."

Scott nodded and chuckled: Reid's bad-boy persona had diminished in a matter of seconds.

"And I was kinda' wondering…Stiles, how did you get involved in all this?"

"Well you see, the other day Lydia was the one who called me and—"

"With the supernatural, Stiles," Reid said with a glare.

"Oh. I was with Scott the night he got bit. Our…sophomore year? Of high school. And we were best friends long before that. Ever since then I've been his—"

"Robin," Scott interjected, an evil grin upon his lips. Reid laughed a little while Stiles turned to punch Scott in the arm.

"I hate you," Stiles said, pouting.

"Stiles is actually more than just a sidekick," Scott said. "He actually knows a little magic himself."

"Does he now?" Reid replied, an eyebrow raising.

"Well…I wouldn't say that."

"I'll have to see what you're made of after we land."

"Greaaat," Stiles said, looking at his phone for the time. Only an hour to go.

— | | —

"How is he?" Reid asked as he walked into Tyler's hospital room; by initial appearances there had been no changes.

"You've got some nerve showing up here again—" began Tyler's father.

"Richard, please," cried Mrs. Simms.

"I umm…I brought some people back with me. People who know what's going on. They're going to do everything they can for Tyler," Reid said, looking only at Tyler's mother.

"And who are these people?" Richard Simms said skeptically.

On cue, Scott and Stiles entered the room. "This is Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski." The pair greeted Tyler's parents with only attempted looks at reassurance.

"Mr. and Mrs. Simms, is there somewhere we can go and talk?" Scott asked.

"There's a family room down the hall," Mrs. Simms said, standing and placing her more completed cross-stitch pattern on the chair. Scott walked out and Tyler's father slowly followed; Mrs. Simms gave Reid a hug and a look hoping Reid knew what he was doing.

After it was only Stiles and Reid, Stiles clasped Reid's shoulder reassuringly before moving up to Tyler. "Watch the door," he instructed. As the blonde moved to keep one eye on the door and the other on what Stiles was doing, Stiles lightly lifted Tyler's limp head and began to undo the gauze wrappings. Pulling back the final layer, Stiles softly turned Tyler's head to rest on the sans-slashed side.

Reid watched as Stiles peered over boyfriend, inspecting the hardly healed wound from as many angles possible. "This is definitely from an alpha," Stiles finally said, stepping back to look for a new piece of gauze. "But this one...the ones on his torso are not."

"Like Scott?" Reid asked, referring to the mention of 'alpha' again.

"Like Scott."

"Are they really so terrifying?" Reid asked, leaning against the wall, crossing his arms.

"They are. Scott didn't show you his form. And he didn't tell you much."

"We're not so weak," Reid said as Stiles pulled a sealed glass jar from his bag.

"Never said you were," Stiles pointed out. "A few years back, before Scott became an alpha, there was a war in Beacon Hills. Between this Alpha Pack and what's known as a darach."

"A what?"

"Dark druid. Dark version of me," Stiles said with a smile as he unsealed the jar and poured some of the clear light blue liquid within onto the new strip of gauze.

"Rewind. Druid?"

"Earth magic," Stiles said plainly as he began to redress Tyler's wound. "Don't worry about it right now. I had a point…I think?"

"Alpha Pack," Reid directed.

"That's right. See, there're three types of werewolves: alphas, betas, and omegas. Omegas are loners and alphas lead packs of betas. This Alpha Pack had all alphas. Five of 'em actually. And with the darach in the picture…well Beacon Hills was pretty much torn apart. But Scott, Scott led us all out of it. Mostly in one piece, I might add. He's a different kind of alpha. They're usually rabid and bloodthirsty. But Scott's—"

"Different."

Stiles smirked, knowing Reid was starting to put things together. "He's kind of the Jesus werewolf," Stiles said and Reid let out a much needed laugh. "He'd look weird with a beard and long hair though."

Reid only continued to smile as Stiles finished the wrapping. "What is that?"

"A healing solution. For healing werewolf wounds inflicted on humans. Wolfsbane. Mountain ash. Some other crap." Stiles packed away the jar and looked at Reid. "Do you want a minute with him?"

Reid nodded and Stiles left, patting Reid's shoulder again. The blonde walked over to Tyler and leaned over him, whispering into his ear before kissing his lips lightly.

…

Going back, Scott followed Tyler Simms' parents into the family room which, thankfully, was unoccupied. "First," Scott began, "I just want to say that I'm sorry for what you're going through. I can't even begin—"

"Scott, is it? Just get to the point," Mr. Simms impatiently said.

"Richard, please," Mrs. Simms said again. "He's only trying to help."

"What could he possibly do? What could he possibly know?"

"I know that Tyler is a warlock," Scott blurted out. Both of his parents' eyes snapped to look at Scott. "I know he's a warlock because his friends showed me. They trust me. And I want you to trust me, too, when I say that I made a promise to someone who loves Tyler very much. And that promise is to do all that I can. Mrs. Simms—"

"Carol," she urged.

"Carol," Scott corrected, "I may not look like much but I've been at this for a number of years now," he finished, looking at Richard Simms. "I want to help, but only if I have your blessing."

"We don't even know what 'this' is," Mr. Simms said, his tone declining from anger to incredulity.

"It's best you know as little," Scott's eyes flashed red, "as possible. Only that I'm here to help and we have the same goals in mind. Both in a personal sense and a wider…protective sense."

"Do what you can for Tyler," Carol Simms said. And when Richard Simms hesitated, she slapped him in the chest and he nodded.

"A friend of mine is flying out tomorrow," Scott continued. "A doctor, rather. If anyone can help your son recover, he can."

"And what do you intend to do?" asked Tyler's father.

"I'm going to bring Tyler justice."

— | | —

"McCall," Jackson greeted cautiously as he walked up to the sedan Stiles had rented.

"Jackson," Scott replied.

"Who's this?" Jackson said, motioning to the blonde leaning against the car.

"Garwin," Reid began, arching out to stand. "Reid Garwin."

"Right," Jackson said, placing his suitcase in front of Stiles.

"Do I look like a chauffeur?" Stiles said.

Jackson only looked at him expectantly before hopping into the back seat, Scott following on the other side while Reid took the passenger seat.

"Apparently so," Stiles muttered to himself as he managed best in lifting and sliding the heavy suitcase over into the trunk.