A howl tore through the forest like none the gang had ever heard before. Even Derek felt a tremor run through him, the Alpha wolf within him (though not exactly afraid) sensed that to fight this enemy was to die. Nonetheless Scott, Jackson and Derek raced out the front door, the wolves emerging from within them to track the scent of their Packmate. Lydia grabbed her purse which clinked with stoppered vials, but by the time she reached the front yard, the others were gone.

"Men. And what exactly do they think they're going to do against a demon? Bite it?" she snarled aloud to no one. She immediately thought of a spell that she had been too afraid to try before. As soon as she began the chant, the trees started to whip their leaves, some even bending under the tornado strength micro-winds that buffeted against them.

Lydia called out a supplication to Aeolus, Lord of the Winds and lifted her arms while beginning to slowly spin around. By the third turn, she disappeared into something resembling a larger than normal dust devil. With a loud whooshing sound, it took off into the forest easily overtaking and surpassing the racing wolves. When she arrived, she found Stiles lying unconscious on the ground. He bled from a double dozen wounds, nearly every inch of skin covered with bite and scratch marks, many of them serious, but a quick check showed that he clung to life. Four deep scratches scored a path diagonally across his face. Lydia whistled and worked her time reversal magic, thankfully finishing up just as the Pack burst into the clearing.

Stiles did not wake, and Lydia continued to examine him while the werewolves took on their human aspects. Lydia placed her hand on Stiles chest and closed her eyes. A moment later, she gasped.

"What is it? Lydia, what happened?" demanded Derek, his eyes glowing red.

"He was attacked, three guesses by who. Lycanus must be possessing a human body. Derek, he…took Stiles' soul."

"Stiles lost his soul?" said Derek incredulously. They looked down at him, and the wolves indeed smelled that something was not right. The vital essence of his scent, the olfactory 'flavor' that identified him to the rest of the pack was missing. A werewolf smelling him could tell only that he was another werewolf, nothing more.

"Lycanus plans to have you over a barrel about something, Derek. This was his way of insuring that he had your cooperation, by taking that which you value more than your own life. He's going to offer it back to you in exchange for something. He must really want it to happen."

Derek was speechless. He knew that whatever the demon wanted, Derek would agree to it if only it could save his mate.

Lydia looked at him knowingly. "Derek, I know how you feel about Stiles, but you have to think very carefully before making a deal with this creature. It could only want evil for the world. Are you ready to pay that price?"

"I don't care. The whole world can go to hell. I'm getting him back." Derek's look defied any of the others to challenge him.

"Derek, I don't know about the boys, but I will be obligated to stop you." Lydia said evenly.

"I'd like to see you try, witch. Tomorrow at 3:00, you're going to be out of my hair for good. Then I'll have Stiles back." Derek faced off against her, his crimson eyes staring deep into her dead black orbs.

Jackson shook his head. "Guys, stop it. I'm ashamed of both of you right now. We are going to get Stiles back, and nothing is going to happen to Lydia or the world or anything. We cannot fight with each other or the demons have already won. Now stop this bullshit or I'm out of here."

"Jackson's right. You two can play Alpha vs. Wiccan some other time. We know you are the Badasses of the group, while Jackson and me get to be the pawns, but this time we're pulling rank. You two need to get over yourselves, now." Scott snarled this last. Derek glared at him, fully expecting Scott to drop his gaze. For a surprise, he didn't. Jackson and Lydia were staring at each other as if trying to burn holes with their eyes. Finally, Lydia dropped her gaze and admitted "You're right. I'm sorry I seemed insensitive about Stiles, I'll do everything I can to get him back of course. It's just that these guys screw you over even if you do give them what they want. Would you really send the world to hell knowing that there was a pretty good chance you'd lose Stiles anyway?"

Derek's glare lost its force and he turned away. "You have a point, Lydia. You just don't know what it's like for a werewolf when he decides on his mate. There is nothing we would not do to protect them…and we die without them. I want to see what happened to Stiles, Lydia. I want to see…what he suffered."

Lydia nodded, and conjured them back to the house. Stiles was put to rest on a couch in the living room, still unmoving. Lydia pulled down the built in projection screen in the ceiling and repeated the clairvoyance spell she used in the school laboratory.

An image of Stiles standing in the woods took shape on the screen. They saw him look towards the hooded figure and start in surprise.

"Yo, buddy. Who are you?"

The gang heard the figure chuckle, and of all of them, only Derek failed to shudder at the sound.

"I'm no one. Who are you?" the figure responded. When it turned around, they saw that it was Deaton. His face was in the midst of a transformation between human and monster wolf. This was no smooth transition that Derek or his Packmates were capable of, this was a torturous and agonizing looking shift made without regard to the werewolf's well-being. Blood poured from numerous wounds as the skin was stretched to the tearing point and bones were wrenched into new configurations, sometimes jutting from the skin. The enormous teeth sprayed a shower of red as they sprang forth, deforming the jaw they were mounted in. Finally the skin did rip wide open as the wolf seemed to emerge from within the possessed vet. The demon wolf pulled the long strips of Deaton's epidermis from his blood soaked fur and dropped them to the ground with wet splatting sounds. When the uber-werewolf (far larger in stature than Deaton had been) was finished with the grisly show, it lunged for Stiles holding the screaming boy aloft by the neck. The clawed paw drew back and almost playfully swiped the claws across the boys face. Stiles continued to scream as more blood sprayed to mix with that on the already soaked ground. Another rake of the claws opened fresh wounds on his chest, then arms and legs. One claw began poking Stiles' stomach, searching for the softest spot.

"No…please stop…don't kill me…" whimpered Stiles as his struggles slowed.

"And what prize, what morsel will you deliver me, boycub, in return for this great boon you ask of me? A birds nest? A trip to Pharoah's Egypt? What, as they say, is in it for me?"

"Anything…please…" Stiles moaned. His face was now entirely awash in blood, his features impossible to make out.

"Very well! I accept your bargain!" And Lycanus bared his enormous teeth and shoved his hoary snout into Stiles' chest cavity…but rather than tearing through flesh and ribcage, the muzzle entered as if the boy's body were a still pool of water. When it emerged from the undamaged flesh, it held a glittering light filled orb. It dropped Stiles to the floor and spat the orb into its monstrous hands. Shadow seemed to swarm over the figure, and in an instant it disappeared. The screen went blank.

Derek had an expression of such broken loss on his face that if the others did not already have tears flowing down their cheeks they would have given in to grief at the sheer soul-destroying agony they knew he must be feeling.

"Derek…" began Lydia, her make-up running.

Derek's eyes rolled up into his head and he fell to the floor. The stricken teens just looked at each other. They were some of the most powerful beings the world had ever known, and yet they had never felt so helpless in all of their young lives.

{}{}{}{}

Scott, Jackson and Lydia sat at the dining room table in silence. All this time as they approached the date when they must confront Lilith, they had guarded against panic by assuring themselves over and over again that demons, while no doubt formidable, could be defeated if they could just be clever or strong enough. All of this confidence had just been destroyed in an instant. Jackson and Lydia especially felt no doubt that tomorrow at this time would see one of them beginning their eternal tenure in Hell.

"I stick by what I said, Lydia. If it comes down to it, I'll go." Jackson muttered.

"I was always the one meant to go, Jackson. Who knows? Might be the start of an interesting career. Maybe Mom will let me visit at Christmas."

Scott lurched to his feet.

"Where are you going?" Jackson asked.

"To bed." Scott said resolutely, as if this were the next step in his master plan to bring down the foundations of Hell itself.

The two Cambions looked at him as if he had quietly gone insane, and then nodded absently.

"That's good, Scott. If you're well-rested, we stand a fighting chance." Lydia murmured.

"My Mom taught me a trick years ago. I've never been good at schoolwork, and some subjects were worse than others. She told me that if I ever had an enormous problem, I should sleep on it. I know how this sounds, but it really worked most times. I would wake up with the answer in my head. Only thing is…I might be too keyed up to get to sleep. Lydia, do you think you could…?"

"Dormin." Lydia intoned, pointing her index and pinky fingers at Scott. He dropped bonelessly to the floor, and Lydia sent his body into the living room to lie next to Derek who still had not awakened.

"That's three down…" A sudden snore from Jackson interrupted her thought.

"Four. Now it's just me." She said aloud to no one. And in that privacy, she broke down fully, giving in to an emotional release she had not allowed herself since she was a toddler. When she was done, she cast a refreshing spell on herself to make it appear as if she had spent her usual two hours making herself up after a hot shower. She desperately wanted the release of sleep, but knowing how little time on earth she might actually have left, she could not bear to waste even a single second of it. She fetched her copy of the 'Notebook' and read it cover to cover, for perhaps the last time.

Scott dreamed. Although he had done as his mother advised long ago and concentrated fiercely on their dilemma, he found himself dreaming of a time when the history teacher gave them a single class lecture on the founding principles of philosophy. Scott's literal and reality based way of thinking was instantly at odds with the abstract mental exercises used in the lecture to open oneself up to more logical approaches to problems. He remembered being more frustrated that day than in any other class he'd ever taken. The more the teacher tried to illustrate the concepts, the angrier Scott seemed to get as the meaning slipped further and further away from him. Finally he had stormed out of the classroom. Stiles had gotten the only "A" ever in his high school career on the essay for that class, which was such a far-rambling exercise in ADHD fueled abstract lunacy, that the teacher actually felt out-classed in trying to interpret it. He simply assumed Stiles was a philosophical genius. Scott wanted to be furious with him, but failed when he asked Stiles what on earth the paper had been about. Stiles responded with "No idea whatsoever. I recycled it from that time we had that intro psych course. I figured if it earned an "F" in psych, it should get an "A" in philosophy, and I was right." Scott laughed his head off and they vowed never to take those subjects in college.

The lesson Scott had such a difficult time with involved the abstract question: Can God create a boulder he cannot lift? If God IS all-powerful, then he should be able to do it. But if he cannot lift the boulder, then he isn't all-powerful. It was what the teacher called a paradox, something that in a sense was possible and impossible at the same time. Scott simply could not make sense of the argument (which he felt was stupid, why would God go around creating boulders anyway). He lost his temper when, after trying with the other students for over an hour to puzzle out a solution to the paradox, the teacher finally told him that there was no answer.

"THEN WHAT THE HELL WERE WE WASTING OUR TIME FOR?" he shouted. He had a headache, and needed to get outside so he could take a long honk on his inhaler away from the eyes of the other kids, so he left the class and spent the remainder of the day in the nurse's office faking sickness.

The dream was a repeat of the class, but Mr. Moore had been replaced with the demon-wolf Lycanus, who was devouring students in between asking the same ridiculous question over and over.

"Can I create a boulder I cannot lift?" he asked Jackson.

"Yes!" shouted Jackson.

"Wrong!" shouted the monster. Soon he was crunching on Jackson's head.

"Can I create a boulder I cannot lift?" he asked Lydia.

"No, never!" said Lydia.

"Incorrect!" said the monstrous instructor crunching down on her skull a moment later.

Stiles answered next with a "Maybe!" but was also devoured, and Derek got the same treatment after he gave the demon an irritated "Fuck off."

Now the thing stood before Scott, who was asked the fateful question. Scott tried not to be distracted by the thing licking its chops in greedy anticipation of a wrong answer.

"Well?" the teacher prodded. "Silence is also considered failure."

"The answer is…the answer is…" stalled Scott.

Lycanus' mouth opened wide, and the yawning jaws clamped on either side of Scott's head.

"There is no answer!" he shouted at the last second. Scott woke from his dream, realizing he had shouted aloud.

The others were all awake and staring at him. Lydia gave him a bored look. "So much for 'sleeping on it'. Here I was, placing all my hopes on your dumb dream…ahh, the bitter sting of disappointment."

"Can it, Lydia. I have the answer, I just have to figure it out." Scott muttered irritably.

"You have three hours. After that, if it comes to you, send it to me by Twitter. My handle will be SCOTTSUCKS."

Scott grumpily stood up and tried to go outside so he could think over his dream in peace. The front door wouldn't open. As he watched, the symbol of a heart with two horns sticking out of it burned itself into the wood. The sounds of windows and doors slamming all over the house caused him to run back to the living room and stand with the others as they looked around fearfully. Derek had a dead look on his face and seemed to be the only one not bothered by the spooky special effects. When the noises ceased, they checked and found (unsurprisingly) that each entrance and exit was sealed impenetrably, and could not be opened or destroyed in any way.

"I guess this is Mom's way of keeping us prisoner until she gets here." muttered Jackson.

Derek sat beside the catatonic Stiles on the couch. His face when he looked up at the gang was grim and frightening.

"We are going to handle this Lydia. First Lilith, then that bastard Lycanus. One way or the other."

There was nothing to do but wait and think as the minutes passed slowly. Eventually it was two hours, then one. At last, the appointed time had arrived. A wind blew through the house that alternated in scent between the fragrance of a young girl on the verge of womanhood and the sickening stench of a brothel for diseased prostitutes. Powerful nausea gripped the entire group, bringing them to their knees. Pink fire roared from the dormant fireplace, and a shape began to coalesce in the air. When it finally solidified, Scott stared open-mouthed at the human shape the demoness wore.

"Nurse Jennifer? You're dead!" he exclaimed.

"Fool. Jennifer summoned me months ago, in an attempt to win the heart of that ever-so interesting Alpha. Sadly, even the skills I imbued her with could not hold the interest of that cold and icy heart. My prize was the use of her body beyond her death, and so here I am."

She walked over to Lydia and Jackson, and placed her hands underneath their chins. She gently lifted their heads so she could study their faces, tsking to herself as if proud of a job well-done.

"My children…there are angels in Paradise with faces less exquisite than yours. You are two of my best creations yet…oh, so many will fall to me once I help you both find your place Below. Say goodbye to your friends…and don't keep Mother waiting. I can even take you to visit your father if you like." The pink flames roared again, then parted to reveal a long and fiery tunnel leading down to an inferno of a city. The buildings were of such an impossible non-Euclidean geometry that they hurt the eyes to look at them for long. Screams of tortured souls echoed outward, their torment all the greater from knowing it would never end. Derek even heard one that sounded like his Uncle, and another that could easily have been the unlamented Kate Argent.

Jackson and Lydia found themselves being drawn forward against their will, while the others stood frozen. They watched helplessly as the fiery tunnel drew ever nearer, and their hands found each other and clasped tight. In a few seconds, their long journey into night would begin.