"Agents Queen and Allen," the shorter, stockier FBI agent said. Both agents flashed their badges quickly—maybe a bit too quickly—and put them away.

Sheriff Stilinski raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Why exactly are the Feds here, if you don't mind me asking?"

The conversation faded a little bit from Noah's ears as he repositioned himself in a tree above the scene. He glanced across the clearing to Stiles, who was situated in the tree in front of him and intently focused. Noah's eyes began to wander back to the two Feds in the clearing. At once, he decided he did not like nor trust them. Something was off. And not just because the sun was still rising and the two of them had on sunglasses like complete tools. There was also a rather dramatic height different between the two of them, so much so that Noah decided to nickname Stretch with the 70s hair Moose. The shorter one tended to do all the talking, so he decided upon the name of Squirrel. Sure, they had real names, but that wasn't any fun.

"Over here…this is where we found the body. But this right here is where we found the heart."

A heart? Noah leaned down slightly to try and see. There, at the edge of the clearing, laid a heart with a giant hole taken out of the center. He got a nasty feeling that it was meant to be an O.

N, and now O. NO. Was that meant to spell no? Or was the spree not finished yet?

"Are you thinking werewolf?"

Noah snapped his head to attention. Sheriff Stilinski had left the two to deliberate. It sounded like Squirrel who had spoken.

"It's the only thing that fits right now. Ripped out heart. Though it's weird, because they usually eat that part, don't they?" Moose replied.

"There's a full moon in two days. We'll know tomorrow."

"You mean we'll know in two days, right?"

"Shotgun shuts his cakehole, Sammy!"

BREAK

The car was silent.

All Noah was consciously aware of was Stiles's hand wrapped around his, thumb gently stroking the back of his hand. Both of their hearts beat erratically; not because of each other's presence, but because they were afraid.

"Someone needs to call Derek."

"Someone needs to kill whatever is skinning and abducting people before they skin us." He pointed behind them, towards the forest, in reference to Agent Queen and Agent Allen.

"We'll have to lay low full moon night," Noah murmured absently.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "We might demolish our houses first."

Noah smirked and shoved him over. "We need to try."

The next few days proved absolutely unbearable for the two teenagers. The stress was clearly taking a toll on them as well; bags had soon occupied the space underneath their eyes. If Noah was bitchy the day of the shower episode, he had nothing on the ticking time bomb teenager today, trying fervently not to break his tray in half. Stiles physically looked in worse shape than Noah did, as the stress had decided to make him sickly instead of angry. The pair were seated on Noah's bed, eating dinner, as they had opted to stay home today to make life easier on anyone who might possibly have to socialize with them.

"I just want this over with," Noah grumbled, angrily taking a bite out of his macaroni and cheese.

Stiles smirked. "There is no angry way to eat that."

"How about you shut up?" Noah flung his fork back down on his tray and pushed it away. He pushed himself to his feet, drifting over to the window to stare out of it. The sun was setting. "If you want to visit Scott, now's the time. We won't be able to in short of an hour."

"Mm, okay…" In that moment, Stiles became a chipmunk as he shoveled as much food as he possibly could into his mouth. He snatched his keys and headed for the door, Noah falling in step behind him.

The drive, like most of the ones they'd shared together over the past couple of days, was silent. Night's slender fingers soon took hold of the entire sky, and it was black before they could even reach the hospital.

Stiles growled. "We took too long."

"We'll see him tomorrow night then, Stiles. We shouldn't be this close to the hospital right now." He was surprisingly calm for someone who felt like their stomach was eating itself. "Turn around. We're not safe…" He reached out to lay a hand on Stiles's arm. What he didn't expect was Stiles yanking his arm away.

He stopped the Jeep. "No, I am safe. You aren't. Because ever since you showed up here, shit started to hit the fan. I am safe because I won't clobber the shit out of my best friend until he is back in the coma from whence he came! I can control myself a whole hell of a lot better than you can, and certainly enough not to kill him in the five minute I'd like to see him for. I am not going to let you stop me from seeing my brother because I'm not sure if you're going to become a homicidal maniac or not!"

All that Noah could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. Whether it was anger or despair rushing through his veins at that moment, he couldn't tell. There were no words to be said, no gestures to be made. He opened his mouth once, twice, thrice, but no sound came out. So he pried open the door and jumped out of the car before slamming it behind him. "If that's how you feel." So he set off for the woods, and as he felt the familiar sensation of a closing throat and hot tears threatening to spill down his face, Noah couldn't help but slam his feet into the nearest object…or objects. Newspapers, bottles, cans, whatever Noah could send flying, he did.

He tugged up his hood as he marched along alone, right down the middle of the road. He was in a more deserted part of town, and come to think of it, Derek's loft couldn't have been far from here. But he chose to continue on into the forest behind the deserted industrial side of town, hoping the autumn leaves and clear night would clear his mind. Noah's mouth began to hurt him again, but not agonizingly. Maybe it was just the change.

Soft leaves crunched underfoot as Noah made his way through the reserve. Slowly, piece after piece, he had begun to shift, and he finally dropped onto all fours when he emerged at the edge of a clearing opposite a burnt-out old two-story house.

And that was when he realized he wasn't alone.

BREAK

Sitting in front of Scott, cross-legged on his hospital bed, Stiles couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. Maybe he'd been too harsh on Noah. Actually, not maybe. He'd definitely been too harsh. He'd made a silent pact to himself not to snap in anticipation for tonight but he'd done it anyway and now he was the bad guy.

"Aww damn it." He rolled off the bed and walked to the corner, pacing for a little while before he finally took out his phone. Noah had been his most recent call, so he just hit redial.

It hadn't even rung twice before the call cut. So he called back, confused. This time, it didn't even ring. It cut straight to the giggling clip of Noah saying he was not able to pick up the phone, and would call you back when he could. He could hear his own voice in the background as well, laughing along to whatever stupidness they'd been doing that afternoon.

But now he began to worry. Why wasn't he answering? Those obviously very fake Federal agents-turned-hunters were on the prowl tonight. It wasn't safe. They didn't know what these particular hunters were even capable of. "Oh God, what have I done…"

"Well I don't know, Stiles. What exactly have you done?"

Stiles swore he would've gotten whiplash had he whirled around any harder. "Scott!"

Scott McCall was sitting up in his hospital bed with the same goofy grin on his face that he wore whenever he wasn't confused about something else. He looked completely healthy, and he obviously felt it too as he pulled all of the tubes and wires off of his body. He wasn't prepared for the body slam he received from his best friend, but gratefully hugged back as he reached for his clothes. "How long have I been out?"

"Almost a month, Scott." Stiles smiled. "I can't believe you're finally awake. Maybe it was the full moon."

"Not sure. But really, what did you do."

That snapped him back to reality. "Scott, tonight's a full moon. And I need your help."

BREAK

Blood pounded in Noah's ears. He'd caught their scent. It was definitely Squirrel that was after him at the moment; he would recognize that "manly" musk anywhere. But he didn't dare underestimate him at the moment, as he was carrying a pistol in one hand and what looked like a tranquilizer gun in the other.

Well fuck.

He edged his face around a tree briefly to see where Squirrel had gone, and he was lucky enough to pull his face back with milliseconds to spare as a bullet whizzed past his face. Cover blown. Noah bolted through the forest on all fours (surprisingly that got him places faster) in an attempt to shake him. What he failed to realize was that blundering through the forest like a clumsy idiot does nothing for stealth.

A bullet clipped his shoulder, causing Noah to yelp and sway off balance for a moment before continuing on. He took shelter behind a bush when his shoulder allowed him to run no further, biting down a howl of pain. That hadn't been any ordinary bullet, that was for sure. It fucking hurt, and Noah had been shot at enough to know what an actual bullet felt like.

Noah watched in a pain-stricken, silent surprise as Stiles, completely wolfed out, rushed up out of absolutely fucking nowhere and dipped down to grab his legs. Someone surged up behind Noah, out of his range of vision, to dip down and grab his torso. The movement jostled his shoulder, causing him to involuntarily cry out in pain.

Bullets began flying. Stiles and the person carrying his torso whom he could only assume was the miraculously healed Scott booked it out of there. A new kind of bullet started to soar past them, aimed at trees; when they exploded, a bright flash of white momentarily blinded both boys, sometimes sending them in two different directions (which was unfortunate for poor Noah in the middle, who felt like a medieval criminal being stretched in two different directions but wolves instead of horses).

Stiles grunted, and suddenly Noah had hit the ground and rolled into a nearby set of bushes. Noah hadn't been aware Stiles had even hit the ground until Scott was perched in the bush next to him, dead silent. Then he heard the footsteps.

"We missed two, but we caught one." Squirrel poked Stiles with his foot. A deep growl gathered in Noah's chest, but Scott's hand covered it up before they could hear it. "Maybe he'll give up his friends if we "convince" him."

"One step at a time, Dean. Let's get him back to the car first. It's a just a minor paralytic, so it'll wear off soon."

If it was possible, Noah could swear he could hear his heart breaking in his ears. "No…" he whispered. "No!" It took Scott pinning him to the forest floor and both his hands over his mouth to keep Noah silent. He cried out, but it died between Scott's fingers as he watched them carry away his love. His eyes were still open, and though Noah knew Stiles was brave, he could still see the fear in his eyes. And he struggled as hard as he could to spring free and jailbreak him, but Scott simply would not let him go.

They didn't move from that position for a good fifteen minutes. When Scott finally let him go, Noah rolled away and snarled at him. "How could you? How could you sit back and watch them take him? We have to do something! We can't just let them sit there and fucking torture him about what's killing people in Beacon Hills, because this might come as a shocker to you, but we don't know." He shoved Scott's hand away when he reached out to touch the injury. "Don't you touch me god damn it or I swear I will rip your throat out."

"Noah, you need to calm down—"

"Like hell I do!" He hadn't even noticed the voice had changed. "We have to go get—"

"Noah, you need to calm down!" the voice snapped again. Derek.

Noah narrowed his eyes as he pivoted on his heels to face him. "And let me guess. You stood by to watch the entire thing happen?"

"No, the flashing gunfight was actually louder than you think. I don't think the Sheriff is on his way, but he won't be pleased to find out that his son is not with you two. So let's go. And Scott, look for any bullets on the ground on the way out if you want your only source of information to live."

Noah broke a sweat. "God, I need to lie down… Just, please. Let's leave before I do something extremely rash with a bad shoulder."

All the way out of the forest and up to Derek's loft, Noah walked between Scott and Derek at all times. To put it lightly, Scott had called him a "flight risk". He didn't give a damn about that right now, honestly. He was stressed out and furious and worried beyond all belief, all at once. The searing pain didn't add to his plight any more either. To top all of that off that, Noah was still bitterly fucking hungry. And feeling hungry was starting to get real old.

Up in Derek's loft, Derek set himself onto the task of dissecting the bullet Scott had retrieved. A weird looking black powder spilled out, which he promptly set on fire and then stuffed into the bullet hole.

He didn't think he'd ever experienced a worse pain in his life.

Oh, but he had, just a mere thirty minutes earlier. And now he was determined to get Stiles back. As soon as Noah was done writhing on the ground in agony, he pulled himself into a standing position. "Well, Scott. What do you want to know?"

"Everything that happened while I was out."

"Things do get a little gay, you know. Maybe you might not want to know everything."