The Pack raced swiftly up the flight to the second floor, taking only one knapsack full of their personal belongings and leaving the rest behind. The far end of the hallway where the next flight up lay seemed to recede into an infinite distance. From the shadows that collected at the far end came the sound of hundreds of creatures all hissing and chittering. The walls, floor and ceiling all darkened as something…many somethings approached on hundreds of legs. At first, their minds couldn't make sense of what they were seeing…it was just too unreal. Then Scott began to moan.

"Oh, no…why…why did it have to be spiders?" The Beta features receded, leaving Scott looking both terrified and nausteated.

These were no ordinary spiders, however. As large as dogs, each spider sported the head of Kate Argent, her filthy hair hanging down over her face revealing multi-faceted red eyes and fang filled mandibles that clicked menacingly. Mocking laughter came from the horde as Scott slid down the nearest wall trembling.

"Really? An arachnophobic werewolf?" Derek snarled. For the first time since they had been trapped here, Derek gave himself fully over to the Alpha shift. The others had no idea to this day what it was like…Derek had been a Beta his whole life and yet was still overwhelmed by the brute force and power this higher form possessed. The fact that they had overcome his uncle had been nothing but luck, he felt that with his whole being. The only reason that any of them had survived is that Peter's bloodlust was not directed at them…at least, not completely. He had taken Kate with brutal ease the moment she was within reach…a prime example of the Hunter breed with too much training and too little remorse…and Peter snuffed her out like a match. Now Derek would carry on the family tradition, slaughtering these mockeries of Kate with the same ease.

The Alpha strode into the horde, and laid about him with his massive paws, snapping his jaws with great effect. Vile black ichor ran over his tongue as he crunched the face off one spider, which he spit out before taking another. He slammed his clawed feet into groups of three and four at a time, the wet heat of their innards soaking into his fur. He swiped his clawed hands through group after group, mangling and ripping apart dozens of the creatures. The rest of the Betas (with the exception of Scott), pushed past their normal shifts by his fury and need joined him in destroying the monstrous spiders. None of them had any particular fear of spiders; this attack had been meant solely for Scott, and the wolves found that they were constantly having to chase any that got past them, since the creatures would charge directly at the paralyzed teen if given the chance.

Lydia and Jackson, werewolves possessed by once-human spirits, were new to the power of the wolf and had to learn quickly to adapt to this new strength. If they fought with less efficiency and with no indication of having received Derek's training over the years, none of the Pack seemed to notice. Manfred Pheer particularly relished the sensation of being truly alive again, and was tempted for a moment to ponder what it would be like to keep this young and powerful body for himself…but then banished the thought. His time was past, and no life brought pleasure without some measure of pain. He just wanted to rest. But first, there was work to do.

For herself, Stella was intrigued by the werewolf's power, and felt she now understood Derek and his Pack…even her own son…a little better than she had before. She thought back to her old friend Diana Hale, mother of the young man she fought beside, and a wide grin crossed her face. "Di, if you could only see me now!"

The horde was eventually vanquished, only one of the spiders remained alive. It chittered and screeched as it dodged madly around the raging wolves and made a beeline straight for Scott, sensing his terror.

Just before it reached him, his paralysis broke and he lurched to his feet. He screamed, his right arm covering his eyes and stomped on the spider, feeling a mild stinging in his leg which quickly faded to numbness.

Peeking out, he saw that the horrible thing was dead, and his Pack was looking at him with wide eyes.

"Hey…I did it!" Scott grinned weakly before passing out.

Derek snarled, loping over to the fallen Beta. Scott was down for the count.

"Nothing we can do, Derek. Let's just take him and keep going! We have to get to the top!" 'Lydia' told him. Seeing his head Beta dispatched so easily unnerved Derek, and obliterated the glimmer of hope he was enjoying since Stella arrived. He was a fool to think they would get out of here alive. He shifted back (grateful the stretchy sweatpants he wore had survived the transformation) and hoisted Scott's unconscious body over one shoulder. The end of the hall seemed to snap forward at them, and they mounted the stairs that led to the third floor wondering what new horror would await them there.

{}{}{}{}

Stiles stalked angrily down the fourth floor hallway (his left foot leaving burning cloven hoof prints in the floor), cursing his demonic nemesis. The thing was shifting the house, preventing them from ascending to the final floor. Scott followed along silently, not caring to question where they were going, just grateful he was being allowed to follow in his best friends footsteps. As Alpha of the Nega-Pack, he felt it as each of his Betas perished. He was proud that they were able to fulfill their destinies and die for Stiles like they always meant to…after all, they had killed him as surely as Derek had. They deserved it, one and all…and now, through some divine provenance, they would actually do it in the service of their lost brother, whom death had transformed into something approaching a god…or a demon. Scott would do no less when the time came…and he only hoped that if his death were gruesome enough…painful enough…it might balance the scales, and Stiles would forgive him.

Stiles opened a door and looked through into the first floor kitchen. He cursed and slammed it shut. Another seemed to be the exit from the gazebo into the topiary, which was full of hedge-creatures that roamed the gardens looking for prey. Stiles closed it for just a second, and then opened it again quickly to find the foyer inside the main entrance. He shut it.

"I need to get Derek and the others up here. With all of us looking for the right door, one of us is bound to find it."

"Derek?" Scott spat. "He's here?" His eyes glowed crimson at the thought of being able to destroy his old Alpha once again.

"Not your Derek. This one saved me…although I'm pretty pissed at him for putting me in danger in the first place. Then again, I brought him and the Pack here, so I guess we're even."

Scott was stunned. "Derek…saved you? But…"

Stiles shook his head. "Remember those Marvel 'What If' comics? It's like that. I died in your world, but survived in mine…and became something more. The flight down to the third floor is still there. Go and bring the Pack up here. I don't want to give any ground, so I'll stay."

Scott nodded and ran down the steps. Stiles looked around the dark hall with his mismatched eyes, exploring the house with his alien senses and struggling to thread the maze in his mind that the goat-man had made of the structure. Rooms and halls were whirling around on the other side of the doors, opening them might lead literally anywhere.

"One more floor, fucker. One more, then I take you apart. For me and every other kid that was ever scared of the Boogeyman growing up."

{}{}{}{}

The Pack found that unlike the second floor hallway which was a straight run, the third floor was more maze-like. The doors opened randomly onto rooms, or even other short stretches of hall. None of the halls they found led to stairs…they would have to go through the rooms. They proceeded cautiously, opening each door they passed, but not stepping fully inside…until Ted opened a door and discovered the bedroom of his old house. Surprised out of his caution, he entered the room only to have the door slam shut behind him. The knob refused to turn, even when Ted shifted and wrenched it right off the door. He heard the voices of the Pack on the other side and shouted at them for help. He strained his ears to listen for them and was shocked at what he heard.

"What a pain in the ass. Now we have to save his worthless hide." came Derek's voice.

"Fuck. Do we have to? I just found the way up to the fourth floor!" Jackson called.

'What the hell?' Ted thought to himself. How the hell could they talk like that, didn't they realize he could hear them? They were supposed to be his friends, his Pack mates!

"Really? Let's vote. All for leaving his sorry ass, say 'Aye'" This from Lydia, followed by a chorus of 'Ayes'. It seemed unanimous.

"C'mon, Danny. I wanted to set you up with that friend of mine anyway…much cuter than that troll you were pity-fucking." Allison's normally sweet soothing voice was full of cold cruelty. Ted felt a deep pain in his chest at their words, his eyes beginning to sting.

"Yeah, the house did me a favor by helping me lose the dead wood. I just dated him because I felt guilty about his folks throwing him out, and he has some mad skills in bed, but now I kind of sympathize with them. You know, I even talked with them? He thinks he got thrown out for being gay…he still doesn't get it that they would have hated him if he were straight…they just wanted to have an excuse to evict him. His own Dad told me he wished I were his son instead. His brothers go out for beers with me sometimes. You know, one of them is kind of cute…"

"Who the fuck am I going to get to clean my house?" Derek's voice trailed off as the Pack left. Ted pounded on the door, then froze when he heard a voice behind him. His father's voice.

"So, my miserable excuse for a son decided to come home. I thought we told you never to come back! What's the matter, your boyfriend doesn't want you anymore? Guess that means you don't have anybody…because you certainly don't have us!"

Ted turned around. There stood his father, mother, and brothers. His father was swinging a wrench into his palm, while his brothers each had baseball bats.

"It was so much better when you left, little brother. Dad found a new job, my grades went up, Mom stopped drinking and the brother I actually do like stopped using drugs!" said his brother Timothy.

"I feel like shooting up again just looking at you, you pathetic freak." put in Thomas.

"And I think I need a drink. They told me I couldn't have any more kids after you crawled out of me, but it only took six months for me to be grateful I couldn't…I don't think I could have handled another brat like you! The Turner family was disgraced enough with just the one…" his mother shook her head, pursing her lips as she always did when she found some excuse to ream him out.

Ted backed away from the bedroom door, forgetting his own powers as sickening despair filled his being. He managed to lock himself in the bathroom as the taunts and jeers continued to come through the door, backing up until his legs hit the tub and he collapsed into it, the warm water soaking his clothes instantly. He reached one hand out to pull himself up and touched something hard and metallic. He looked over and took up the old-fashioned silver straight razor. He unfolded the blade and watched it flash in the harsh fluorescent light. He began to shake uncontrollably…abandonment had always been his worst fear, and he might have ended his own life long ago but for the terror that in death he would be even more alone. The razor belonged to his grandfather, the only member of his family that ever seemed to care about him. Ted had taken it just to have something of the old man's, and in his early teens contemplated slashing his wrists. But he was afraid of dying as much as he was afraid of living. Ted's heart began to race as the panic attack built in force, his breath rapidly whipsawing in and out. What could he do? What the hell should he do?

The light dimmed, and the bathroom door burst open. Ted looked at the goat-man, terrified. As the figure slowly approached, Ted brought the razor to his throat intending to end his worthless life, hoping at the very least he could escape the horror that was coming for him.

{}{}{}{}

"TEDDY!" screamed Danny, pounding at the door to the room where Ted was trapped. Danny shifted immediately and began tearing at the door in a rage the Pack had never seen from him before. He slammed his fist through the wood and literally pulled the door to pieces while they watched. And there, on the other side…was Scott? But not the Scott they all knew. This one was dressed in ragged clothing with longish hair and a full beard. The rest of the Pack looked at him.

"What the hell?" Derek muttered aloud. The new Scott looked over at him and gave a challenging growl, his eyes flashing crimson. Derek's own Alpha instincts kicked in, and he nearly lunged at the intruder before catching himself. This had to be a trick of the house.

"Who are you? You look like Scott, but you're definitely not him!"

"Stiles sent me. And the only reason I'm not ripping your head off is because he says you saved his life. He's upstairs, and I'm to bring you to him."

"I'm not leaving without Ted." Danny snarled.

'Scott' shook his head. "You may as well come. If he's in a room somewhere, he's either dead already or about to be."

"Derek?" Danny asked. Here it was…another decision laid at his feet that might mean the life or death of a Pack member. Stella looked at him pityingly though Lydia's eyes. She was beginning to see what he struggled with.

"Come on, Derek? Who are you going to choose? Your mate? Or Danny's? Either way means a betrayal…either way means a Pack member may die." 'Scott' was smirking at him.

He opened his mouth to speak; he honestly had no idea what was going to come out when he was interrupted by a loud crashing noise.

{}{}{}{}

The goat-thing took another step closer, and Ted pressed the blade into the side of his neck. The thing opened its cavernous mouth, revealing its rows of teeth.

'The important thing is not to fear. Fear is what it thrives on.' Jackson's voice echoed through his mind. Just as the goat-thing reached down a claw-fingered hand towards Ted's face, the young Beta slashed out with the razor. The thing screeched and broke apart into fleeing shadows, and Ted looked at the thick black liquid that dripped from the blade.

"Go fuck yourself." he said aloud. He stood, washing and pocketing the razor. He walked back through the door to his bedroom. His family stood there, looking at him expectantly.

"I knew you wouldn't have the guts to do it, you were always-" his father began, before suddenly being knocked to the ground by a vicious right hook.

"Save it for someone who'll believe your bullshit." Ted told the group of them.

He turned his back on them, and giving himself over fully to the wolf that lived within him, he pulverized the door with one massive slam of his fist. He stepped out into the hall to find that the Pack had not left, they were still waiting for him. The door he came through was across from the one he entered (which was also smashed). Someone that looked like the child of Scott and a Hell's Angel was having a Glaring contest with Derek. He was suddenly tackled by Danny in a fierce hug, and Ted knew, as he had always known on some level, that Danny and the Pack would never leave him behind in any but the most dire circumstances…but if they ever did, he now knew he would survive. In a strange way, the house had done him a favor. When he turned back to look into the room where his family lurked, he saw that it was empty and bare.

The new Scott scowled, while a look of pure relief washed over Derek's face.

"Hey guys, what's going on?" he asked, looking around at the group with new eyes.

"Derek was just going to tell us whether or not we should leave you behind to find Stiles and escape. Any thoughts on that?" 'Scott' threw an ugly smirk at Derek, who growled menacingly. Scott's own eyes flashed crimson.

Danny interrupted what would likely have turned into an all-out attack between the two.

"First thing, I don't know you, dude, but you sound like a douche. Second, I know if Derek left me… or any of us… it would be because he had to, for the good of the Pack. I also know it would haunt him forever. He's an Alpha, and that's his cross to bear. Looks like you're an Alpha too. Where's your Pack?"

The new Scott growled and lunged across the room at Ted. Derek (still with the body of the original Scott on his shoulder) grabbed him in passing and hurled him into the nearest wall. He was up again in a moment, beginning his shift into the Alpha form. But for Ted, the rest of the Pack grabbed his flailing limbs, restraining him. While he growled and snapped at them, Ted approached and grabbed the thick hair, pulling the silver straight razor from his pocket and holding it to the other boy's neck.

"Keep it up, and I end you. Got it?"

The rogue Alpha ceased struggling and shifted back, Glaring at them. "My Pack died in service to his mate…after your fearless leader killed him. In my world, Stiles died in that snow…died because of you, Derek! Because you were a cold selfish prick, just like you are now. He was my best friend and I found him frozen solid…he broke in two when they tried to move him, and it was all your fault!"

Derek's claws were buried in 'Scott's' neck so quickly, he had no memory of how he got there. He squeezed, feeling the vertebrae in the neck creak. A little more pressure, and…

Lydia's hand touched him lightly on the shoulder. Derek looked down and saw a hopeful, almost boyish smile on the face of this damaged double…a Scott that lived through the unthinkable outcome of one of Derek's most horrible mistakes. The boy wanted Derek to kill him with every fiber of his being, just to get away from the guilt that ate him from within.

Derek released him, dropping him to the floor.

"Your fault…my fault…all our fault…" 'Scott' whispered, tears flowing down his face.

The Pack looked down at him, speechless. Derek closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead with a trembling hand. The pressure of the last few days was beginning to take its toll on him. He didn't know how much more he could stand.

He gently pulled the young Alpha to his feet. "You're right. It was my fault…but it wasn't yours. You were not to blame for his death. None of you were. I remember that night like it was yesterday…I threw everyone out, but you lingered…even when I did my best to intimidate you into leaving. You were very brave, and tried to be there for him…like a best friend should."

"I sh-should h-h-have done m-more…" Scott was shaking, and he started to scream, the years of his torture trying to escape from his throat all at once. The atrocities he had committed with his Pack over the years rushed through his mind, and behind it all the drive to earn the damnation he felt he so richly deserved… for failing to save his best friend. He screamed even louder when the rest of the Pack moved in close, hoping against hope that they would rip him to pieces…but instead, one and all they embraced him. His screams slowly quieted as an old and forgotten feeling chased the anguish from his soul (though it burned him as it left)…the feeling of being loved.

When they helped him up, it tore at Derek's soul to see that even though his rage had left, the boy was and always would be broken. If only he could have gotten to him earlier…but that seemed to be the story of Derek's life. He was cursed to forever be just a bit too late.

Speaking of which…

"Let's go. The door this version of Scott came through…I can see stairs that go up to the next floor."

Derek picked up the unconscious Scott, while Ted and Danny put the merely catatonic one's arms around their shoulders and made their way up the stairs. There they would find Stiles, and hopefully the way out.

{}{}{}{}

Outside the abandoned ruin of Pheer House on Earth, the demolition crew pulled up to the gates. The foreman looked with concern at the row of parked cars, and sent in a team of his men to search the place from top to bottom (with a warning to stay together, they were all familiar with the local legends about the place) before they got started. Only one kid in town owned a silver Porsche, and the foreman had no desire to be responsible for the death of his boss' son. The men came back after a while and reported that although it looked as if there had been some activity there recently, the place was definitely empty.

"You think we should call old man Whittemore?" said the bulldozer driver.

"He's on a trip. He hates it when we bother him with every little thing…but this is his boy…" The foreman cursed to himself. This is what it meant to be in charge…always having to make these damned decisions.

"Take one more trip through, bring the megaphones and shout your heads off. If there's no answer, we knock the fucker down." he told his man.

"You're the boss." the other shrugged.