I'm sorry this has taken so long. I've had major writer's block. My brain just isn't working. But I hope it's okay.

The scent of Stiles' blood was too strong now. It was frankly sickening, but Scott, Malia and Kira chased it through the forest anyway, and with each step they knew they were getting closer. They'd seen Lydia's abandoned car at the edge of the forest, which only confirmed their hopes.

As they ran, Malia maintained a look of intense concentration, though Scott knew the fear she was really feeling. Kira had her Katana on her back, ready to pull it out at the first sign of trouble.

It was Lydia's voice that Scott heard first. Strong, wilful, angry.

He looked across to Malia, who nodded to show she'd heard it too.

All three of them immediately began sprinting towards the sound, and Scott didn't register the way Kira trailed behind, unable to keep up. He was too full of hope. Too ready to rescue.

But Kate's voice came then. His stomach dropped to the ground at the realisation that they were too late.

The plan to lure her away hadn't worked. He came to an abrupt halt at the sound of her serious tone. Malia skidded to a stop next to him. They were close. Very close. Scott caught a glimpse of Lydia's red hair through the trees and flung himself behind one of the thick trunks for cover, pressing his back to the rough bark. He glared at Malia, who quickly understood and copied him. Kira caught the gist as soon as she arrived, panting for breath.

Suddenly there was Stiles' voice, a hoarse and pain infused croak, making Scott feel ill. He swallowed his rage, trying to suppress the sick feeling rising within him.

He didn't know what to do. But it was too late to go back now. Scott knew that leaving Stiles' rescue for another time would be just as good as killing him.

He noticed a familiar scent then, amidst the fear and blood. It was a beserker, though he shouldn't have been surprised. He chose to ignore it for now, tuning in his hearing, listening for what was to come.

"You won't?" came Kate's questioning voice. And then suddenly the sound of metal crashing against skin echoed out, then the thud of someone's body hitting the ground. It was Malia that reacted first, claws breaching fingertips and fangs slipping into sight. She moved, ready to attack, and the uneven earth crunched beneath her feet.

"Malia, stop!" whispered Scott urgently. Malia obeyed reluctantly, but he already knew their cover was blown by the silence that suddenly enveloped their senses. Malia shifted, and a tiny but sharp snap came from where she stood, a fog horn amongst the quiet. It was all Kate needed to zone in on their heartbeats, their breathing, their scents, too near to go unnoticed.

"Hold her." ordered Kate, a command obviously directed at her beserker.

There was shuffling, Lydia's cry, then pained noises that Scott knew to be Stiles. He noticed Malia's hands clench into tight fists. Claws drew blood from her palms.

He couldn't stay like this any longer. He had to see.

Scott leant to the right a little, peeking out from behind the tree trunk and focusing his vision until all was visible.

Kate's arm was around Stiles' throat and a gun was in her hand. The beserker had Lydia by the hair. Kate's head was turning, her eyes searching as if she couldn't pinpoint their exact whereabouts. Too many heartbeats. Not enough experience.

She fired the gun. Once. Twice. Each shot seemed bitterly symbolic of the futures his two closest friends could soon be facing.

"It's too late, Scott!" she shouted, and Scott swallowed anxiously. He saw Stiles' eyes widen a little and Lydia grow stiller. "You're too late! Come any closer and I'll kill him."

Scott glanced at Kira, who looked as lost as he felt. Malia on the other hand looked like she was about to set alight with fury.

None of them moved closer. But they didn't move further away either.

"Did you hear me, Scott? Listen to my heartbeat. You know I'm not lying. You're too late. So leave now. Find the benefactor. And maybe I won't have to kill him and my beserker won't have to kill you."

Scott didn't need to listen to Kate's heartbeat to know she was telling the truth. He could hear in the woman's voice how desperate she was. She knew that if she killed them, she'd have nothing left to bargain with. But that didn't seem to matter to her now. If she was going down, she was hell bent on taking Stiles with her.

Scott was beginning to panic. If he left, his best friend would die. If he stayed, chances were that both of them would. Neither option sat very well with him.

"Scott." Stiles' voice was a rasp. ""If you're out there, don't listen. She's gonna kill me anyway. Just save Ly-"

When Kate cut Stiles off, choking him, it looked like Malia might burst. Though Scott didn't react much better.

"Just save Lydia, huh?" said Kate. And then much much quieter: "You love her, don't you? You murdered someone that I loved, Stiles. She's dead. Do you think you could love a dead girl?"

Scott couldn't understand why he didn't see it coming.

Kate raised her gun. And there should have been a bang. He should have seen Lydia's eyes, wide and vacant in death.

But instead came a scream. Kate's scream. And Scott watched as Stiles dropped to the ground, hand bloody from where he'd thrust a knife, previously tucked into the waste line of his shorts, deep into Kate's side.

Kate stumbled backwards, and Scott needed nothing else. Nor did Malia. Nor did Kira. They were already attacking.

The knife's just a precaution, Lydia had said. Some precaution.

Stiles was trying to piece together what was happening, but his mind wouldn't process it. Everything was beginning to feel like a violent dream where everything hurt and nothing made sense.

But one thing that did was Lydia. The banshee, still so beautiful.

He'd already accepted that his time was up. But he couldn't leave her. And he couldn't let her die either.

Stiles gulped down air that wouldn't come. He wrapped his hands around Kate's arm and pulled, and the pain of broken bones and bullet wounds seemed irrelevant.

It was only when Kate raised her gun that he remembered it, there, pressing into his hip, what seemed like his last hope.

She cried out when he pushed the serrated blade backwards without aim, so it must have hit a mark. He didn't think to brace his legs when she released him, or couldn't think to, and his mind went white as the impact jolted his useless arm.

He could feel the change around him, hear the roars of were-creatures, of his friends. And for a second he couldn't help thinking that he'd killed them all. They weren't just up against Kate. They were up against a beserker. A killing machine.

Lydia's hands turned the thoughts to smoke. They were pulling him away, clutching his arms, and it hurt like hell, so he pushed with his legs to help and soon his back was against a tree. Lydia clutched his hand tightly, and her eyes flashed from Stiles to the fight unfolding behind her and back again. Fear was all over her.

It was like a movie reel playing out before him, as if their was a barrier between two different worlds. Stiles watched as Malia and Kira tried to hold off the beserker, and it seemed like they were losing. He wanted to tell them to run. He wanted to tell Malia that she could stop protecting him now. That he didn't deserve it. But the words wouldn't come.

And then there was his best friend. He was on top of someone, clawing and punching. His eyes were red. And his face was less human than even a werewolf's should be. His hands came back bloody, but he kept going, hitting, clawing. Stiles wanted to tell him to stop, because it wasn't him, he wasn't a killer, but again the signal wouldn't reach his lips.

"Scott!" came Malia's voice, and Stiles panicked as she was thrown to the ground.

Scott finally halted in his rage filled attack, only to direct his fury elsewhere. It all seemed to happen in a heartbeat. One second the beserker was alive. And the next, its large body was lying still on the ground next to another smaller figure, equally unmoving. Scott stood still now, breathing hard, and Stiles had never seen him look so enraged, so dangerous, so monstrous.

"Scott..."

It was Stiles' voice, albeit a whisper, that snapped Scott out of it, that forced him to realise himself. But he had no time to think of the blood on his hands, or the fragments of bone strewn amongst the undergrowth. Stiles was all that mattered now.

The wolf in him settled as he raced over to his best friend. Kira did the same, shortly followed by Malia who dragged herself up from the ground, already healing. Lydia looked at him, and she opened her mouth to speak, but something made her stop.

"Stiles..." he and Malia spoke simultaneously.

Stiles didn't respond. His eyes were fixed on Kate's lifeless body. And Scott had to force himself not to follow his friends gaze, for he knew that he would see blood and bone and empty eyes. And knowing that he'd done that, knowing that he was even capable of doing that: it was too much. Stiles seemed to be in disbelief, but soon he was looking up at him, lost and confused.

"Scott?" he rasped again. Scott found himself standing still, staring, unable to comprehend the state his brother was in. Though Malia rushed forward and dropped to her knees while Lydia maintained a vice-like grip on his hand. When Malia reached him, she paused to just take him in, and then she smiled because he was alive and she could hold him again. Though of course she didn't. She seemed afraid to even touch him.

"Guys, I'm okay." Stiles rasped in response to the looks he was being given.

"You've been shot, Stiles." said Scott, and his voice cracked with the words.

"I know. Pretty cool, huh?"

Scott didn't find that funny. Not even in the slightest. Though he was pretty sure Stiles didn't either. And then the smell hit him again. Blood. So much of it. And he knew it wasn't over yet.

"We have to get you out of here." he said, finally finding the ability to move again. He stepped forward, and Lydia reluctantly let go of his hand, allowing Scott to wrap an arm around his torso and carefully lift him up. Scott did everything he could to avoid glancing at the bodies on the ground. They meant nothing, not when his best friend might be joining them soon if they didn't act fast.

"He's gonna be okay, right?" said Malia. Lydia and Scott exchanged a look full of fear and uncertainty. Malia saw it happen, and panic wrote itself across her face. "Guys, he's gonna be okay." Her question became a frantic statement. "Scott? Scott, stop it. Stop looking like that. Stiles, tell me you're gonna be okay."

"I'm gonna be okay."

It really didn't look or sound that way though, as his eyes were half closed, and he wasn't really supporting his own weight any more. Malia went to grab his other arm but Lydia stopped her.

"It's broken."

Malia's outstretched fingers curled up and her bottom lip trembled. Scott held his breath for a second. Stiles didn't deserve this. It wasn't fair.

"How far is edge of the forest?" asked Lydia.

"Not far." said Kira. "Less than half a mile, I think."

Scott knew that not far might not be close enough. Not for Stiles. But there was nothing they could do about that now. They had to start walking.

But then he felt Stiles' body go slack next to him. The boy's eyes fell shut. And then they were back on the ground again.

"Stiles!"

He was still breathing. But only just.

Lydia grabbed Scott's shoulder, and he turned to her. Fresh tears were falling from her eyes, and Scott knew it was because she could feel it. She could feel it coming. His death. It was her burden as much as it was Stiles'.

"Scott," she said, her voice shaking. "You have to carry him."

Scott nodded. He proceeded to hook an arm under Stiles' back and the other beneath his legs, lifting his lax body from the ground relatively easily.

"What about the bodies?" asked Kira, suddenly.

"What about them?" responded Malia, and Kira quickly learnt how unimportant they seemed in retrospect.

"Come on." said Scott. "Your car's this way. Someone call his dad."

They all followed him without pause, and Malia pulled out her phone. None of them even knew if the sheriff was still alive, or Derek, or Chris. Scott supposed they were about to find out.

They reached Lydia's car first, and the sight of it made her heart soar with relief. They'd been half running the entire distance, and she could have collapsed by the time they reached the road. Her legs ached and the air stung her throat.

The keys were still in the ignition where she'd left them. Her phone was still on the front seat. She looked to Scott, whose face was grey with exhaustion, and it was only then that she realised he'd been leaching Stiles' pain the whole way.

Malia ran around to the other side of the car and climbed in so that when they opened the door and carefully manoeuvred Stiles inside, she could hold him up. He still slumped in the seat though, and his eyelids fluttered with the movement. Though thankfully, the jostling of his broken arm didn't strike pain across his face thanks to Scott.

The werewolf hadn't let go yet. He leant forward, holding onto Stiles. Black veins still meandered along his skin and perspiration coated his creased forehead.

Stiles stirred, and a breath, slightly more powerful than before, came to his lips.

"Lydia..." his voice was somewhat pleading, but not all there. Lydia looked at Malia hesitantly, but the coyote simply frowned with impatience.

"What are you waiting for?" she said. "He wants you. Get in."

Scott seemed to hold on a little tighter, reluctant to let go. Lydia placed her hand on his arm, trying to tell him that it was okay, that he'd taken enough. Scott's jaw was set, but finally he released his grip.

Lydia slid onto the back seat so that she and Malia sandwiched Stiles. She grabbed onto his hand and wove their fingers together firmly. His skin no longer felt warm in fever. Instead it felt deadly cold. Not only that, Lydia noticed that all colour had drained from his lips. It frightened her immeasurably.

"Lydia..." Stiles murmured again, turning his head to her. His eyes were open but they didn't really see her, so Lydia squeezed a little tighter.

"I'm here, Stiles."

Stiles seemed to relax again at the sound of her voice. His body sank once more into the leather seat. Scott stared at his brother, only for a second, looking helpless, but then he sprinted to the drivers side, getting in swiftly. Kira took the passenger seat, and it was mere moments before they were driving. Scott didn't hold up on the accelerator.

"My Jeep..." said Stiles, moving to sit up and failing miserably. He certainly had his priorities straight, thought Lydia. Though she was just relieved he was still responsive, even if it only came in bursts.

Her relief was short lived, for when she looked in the rear-view mirror at Scott's face, she could see focus, determination, slowly crumbling away to terror. His knuckles were white where his hands gripped the wheel. She knew he could hear Stiles' increasingly sluggish heartbeat, the same way she could feel him slowly slipping away from her. It meant nothing though. He wasn't going to die, she reassured herself with adamancy. Her scream had been for Kate. No one else.

Stiles slipped under again, and when he came back around five minutes later, all he murmured was "Where's my dad?" as if he'd woken from a nightmare in which something terrible had happened and he had to make sure it wasn't real.

Lydia could have broken in half.

"He's fine, Stiles." said Scott, and both she and Malia glanced at him with uncertainty. Stiles' face was contorting again now as the effects of Scott's siphoning quickly gave way to that of his injuries.

"How do you know?" His voice was strained and distant.

The truth was, they didn't. No one was answering their calls, and the absence of a beserker didn't make that fact any easier to swallow.

"Guys, how do you know?" Stiles mumble grew more solid when he received no answer from them. Lydia swallowed. She didn't know what to say. None of them did.

But then the sound of Scott's phone ringing saved them, at least for a moment. Scott pulled it from his back pocket, glanced at the screen, then passed it back to Lydia quickly.

"It's Derek." he said.

Lydia answered the call immediately.

"Derek?"

But to her surprise, it was the sheriff's voice that replied. Something within her let out a sigh of thankfulness.

"Lydia? They found you?" he said frantically. "Where's Stiles? Let me speak to Stiles."

"He's here, Sheriff." Lydia assured. "We tried to call you earlier. You didn't answer."

"Just please, let me speak to my son."

"Dad." Stiles said simply, as if he were already speaking through the phone, because maybe he thought he was. "Dad."

"He's not really in a state to talk right now." said Lydia, wanting to save the sheriff the pain of hearing his son so broken. "But we'll be at the hospital soon. Meet us there."

"No hospital." muttered Stiles. "Can't afford it."

"That's Stiles. I can hear him." said the Sheriff. "Lydia, tell me he's alright."

"No hospital." Stiles said again, as if he'd forgotten the little fact that he was minutes away from bleeding to death. Though considering his current mental state, he probably had.

"I'm afraid I'd be lying if I told you that." said Lydia, pulling Stiles' hand closer to her, attempting to comfort herself. "But he will be. I promise." She could hear the doubt in her voice clear as day.

"Okay." said Stiles' father. And Lydia could tell he was trying to calm himself. "Alright. Just, tell Scott, tell everyone, whatever you do, do not listen to a single word my son says."

Lydia stared at the boy to her right, the boy who was already slipping back under to somewhere a hell of a lot more peaceful than this. His eyelids were drooping again, and as he slid, there was a swelling in her throat and chest, something close to pain. She knew what it meant. It was everything she hated. But there was no way she was letting it take another person she loved. Not him. Not Stiles.

"Wasn't planning on it." she said to the sheriff before hanging up. And then, "Scott, you better drive faster."

They were running out of time. And fast.

True alpha Scott!1!1111! I feel like the rescue was a little anti-climactic, so I apologise for that. I'm really struggling to write lately. Thank you for everything that you do though. and keep reviewing my lovelies.