Wow, okay, so this chapter just kept growing and growing... Thanks everyone for reading, commenting, favouriting, ect. =D

Chapter 11

Monday at lunch, Lydia grabbed Stiles in the hallway as he was walking out of his math class and marched him away without a word to anyone. Aiden's attempt at following them was quickly glared into submission. Stiles just threw the werewolf the most bewildered look he could and shrugged as the redhead continued to drag him along behind her.

One staircase and two turns later, she manoeuvred him into an abandoned classroom and closed the door before sitting down at one of the desks. Stiles blinked a few times, shook his head and joined her.

"So, what's with the, uh, abduction?" he asked. "Not that I mind being abducted by you, although it would've been less terrifying if you hadn't done it in front of your growly and possessive boyfriend of many claws."

Lydia rolled her eyes. "You were right, we have to figure out what we're doing. Danny has band practice right now and the others aren't much use unless there's things to slash. Which means it's up to us."

Stiles decided not to comment on how last time he'd been the one dragging her into the researching. Instead he pulled up a chair, dug his lunch out of his bag and let Lydia sweep him into her planning.

Coach Flinstock seemed to be going through some sort of male PMS that day and practice was more like torture than usual. Stiles spent a lot of the second half of it glaring at his werewolf friends, wishing he could do something cool like make the grass grow spontaneously and trip them or something that would make them look equally less graceful and athletic. He sometimes wondered how no one noticed they didn't get as tired as the other players.

When the coach finally called the end of practice, Stiles sighed with relief and collapsed onto the soft, soft grass. It took Scott and Isaac both to lift him to his feet and force him to move towards the locker room to change. Afterwards, he stumbled back out and followed them to the bleachers where Lydia waited for them with a satisfied look on her face.

She greeted Aiden with a kiss and then turned to the rest of them. "Stiles and I have research to do, so we'll be heading to his place to do that. The rest of you are going to be helping the drama club."

The others looked at each other in confusion.

"Wow, that was quick," said Stiles. He knew Lydia was impressive, but he never stopped being surprised by just how efficient she could be when she put her mind to it.

Lydia brushed a lock of hair off her shoulder. "Well, the head of the drama club is in my advanced French class and we were doing partner work today. I offered to do her a favour."

Scott looked confused. "Uh, not that I don't mind helping people out, but why are we helping the drama club?"

"Because the duende lives inside the walls of old houses and there are a lot of old houses in Beacon Hills. Sniffing around all of them one at a time would take a long time."

"Plus look really creepy and suspicious," Stiles added.

"Exactly." Lydia picked up a large stack of leaflets that had been sitting next to her on the bench. "The drama club needs help handing out fliers about their upcoming production. This way you have an excuse to get close to the houses. If the duende is living in any of those houses you should be able to smell it. Just hand out the fliers, smile, and pay attention. If you catch wind of anything strange, make a note of that house and we can go back to it later. Simple."

"Is, uh, Allison coming?" Isaac asked, craning his neck to see if he could spot her. He stopped when he noticed Scott's glare.

"No, she's going through the Argent's bestiary to see if she can figure out what sort of creature the mystery dead woman is," Lydia answered. She held out the fliers. "Well go on. You might want to hurry since I'm assuming none of you have managed to finish the history assignment that's due tomorrow."

Scott froze, his face going blank. Isaac and Ethan groaned. Aiden cursed under his breath. Danny chuckled at them, looking entirely unconcerned. The werewolves glared at him.

"What? I did it over the weekend," he said with a shrug.

"Good, then you can go hand out the stupid fliers," said Ethan.

"Uh, yeah, no." Danny grabbed a quarter of the pile and then shoved them at his boyfriend. "You're not getting out of it that easy. Besides, sending me out on my own would entirely defeat the purpose: the only thing I'll be able to smell is what they're having for dinner."

Ethan made a face, but followed after Danny without another word of complaint.

Isaac sighed. "Fine, let's get this over with." He and Scott both grabbed a quarter of the pile each and headed off as well.

Aiden glared at Lydia with narrow eyes. She raised an eyebrow and stared back at him. A few moments passed and Aiden finally blinked. Then he muttered something under his breath, grabbed the remaining fliers with a huff and stomped off – though not before growling in Stiles' direction when he noticed the amused look on his face.

Lydia's lips quirked into a brief smile before she brought a hand to her face and imperiously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Then she noticed Stiles watching her.

"What?" she demanded.

Stiles chuckled. "Oh, nothing really. I always knew you were the most badass of us all."

"Well, naturally." The response was typical Lydia, but Stiles didn't miss the pleased little smile.

Sheriff Stilinski trudged through the front door at quarter to nine and shrugged off his coat before going over to lock his gun in the hall safe. It was a habit ingrained in him from when Stiles had been an overly-curious, hyper-active knee-biter and, as usual, he paused once it was safely locked away to wonder whether he shouldn't just start keeping it upstairs instead now that Stiles was older. Or maybe get a second handgun and see if Chris could help him acquire some bullets that would be effective against the supernatural.

The gun was already inside the safe now, so he left it and walked on to the living room. He paused in the doorway, eyebrows raising in surprise. And amusement.

He cleared his throat. "Hi Stiles, Lydia," he said.

Lydia looked up from her laptop. "Hello, sheriff," she said with a smile. She was seated in the middle of the couch with her back straight and her laptop sitting on top of her crossed legs – the perfect image of proper yet casual.

His son, in contrast, wasn't even sitting on the armchair anymore, but laying on the ground with his feet on the armchair's seat, bent at at angle so that his laptop could rest on his thighs without falling over. He leaned his head back.

"Oh, hey dad. There's leftover stirfry on the stove for you."

"Thanks, son. I take it you two have eaten then?"

"Yup. We got hungry about an hour ago, so I made food."

"Good, good." He looked between them, trying to remember either of them mentioning any projects for school. "What are you two working on?"

"We're going through the public library's online newspaper archives to see if we can figure out who that woman I saw on Friday is," Lydia answered.

The sheriff sighed. He'd known it was too much to ask that they were doing normal, teenage stuff. He wondered if his son even realized just how much time he was now spending with the 'love of his life'. Probably.

The cellphone on the floor next to Stiles' head gave off a crashing sound and Stiles absently reached for it. He checked the message.

"It's from Scott," Stiles announced.

"And?" Lydia asked.

Stiles grinned. "He says he's never had so many muffins in one afternoon, ever. Apparently the elderly ladies of Beacon Hills have a muffin-baking fetish."

The sheriff chuckled. Muffin-evasion was a necessary skill for the town's deputies. It was one every new recruit had to pick up on their own. It was why they always got the task of canvessing in those neighbourhoods: learning said skill was considered the Beacon Hills version of hazing.

"Good for him," said Lydia. "Does he have anything useful?"

"Um, no, not really. There was one house of Cedarwood Dr that reeked of incense, but there didn't seem to be anything supernatural about it."

"Okay, that only leaves Isaac."

"I'll text him to see where he is. Maybe he didn't realize he was supposed to e-mail when he was done."

"I don't know why he wouldn't."

Stiles shrugged while he typed.

The sheriff's stomach chose that moment to loudly announce itself. Deciding he wasn't really needed here anyway, he left the two teens to their work and went to check out this stirfry that was waiting for him.

Merlin sat on the tree stump and glowered at Adrian.

Adrian ignored him as he continued to lay bricks. The hearth was nearly done. He would still need to build a canopy around it to keep the elements out and then figure out how to acquire the more mechanical pieces. Or, more precisely, how to transport them to the clearing given that Merlin wasn't going to be very helpful.

Perhaps Chris Argent would be willing to help in exchange for being shown how to work with cold iron.

"I can't believe you're actually making this," Merlin suddenly announced, pout clear in his voice. The great sorcerer was sitting with his legs bent and his arms wrapped around them while his chin rested on his knees.

Adrian resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "If they're going to be taking on a fae they'll need a proper weapon and this isn't something they'll be able to just find laying around." He paused and looked askance at Merlin. "At least I'm not lying to them."

Merlin stiffened. "I'm not lying to them," he grumbled. "I'm... misrepresenting the truth."

Adrian snorted. "That doesn't actually sound much better, you realize."

"Perhaps not."

Both of them were silent as Adrian finished off the last row of bricks. Once he was done, he set his trowel aside next to the pail of mortar. He sraightened and turned to watch Merlin critically for a few moments. The sunny smile was gone from the sorcerer's face and, despite his juvenile posture, his face was lined with the grief of an old man.

"You don't need to be bonded to the land to find the duende," Adrian finally said softly into the clearing.

Merlin raised his eyes to him. "No, I don't," he admitted quietly after a pause.

"Then why don't you?"

"Because I won't be staying here and they need to learn."

"People are dying. That's a rather harsh way to teach a lesson."

Merlin's eyes narrowed. "Life is a harsh taskmaster," he spat. "The path they have chosen doesn't make excuses for weakness."

"Children are dying."

Merlin's eyes closed in pain. "I know." After a few moment's pause, he took a deep breath and opened them, unfolding his limbs as he did so. Eyes hard, he met Adrian's gaze unflinchingly. "But I will not be their crutch, Adrian. Stiles, in particular, must learn to stand on his own. His path may not be set in stone, but if he's to gain the strength he seeks, then he must struggle with all he has to reach its end or else he'll never achieve it."

He stood abruptly, his movements angry as he began to pace in front of the tree stump. "Compassion was once both my greatest strength and the reason I lost all I held dear. Perhaps that's simplifying it, but I cannot allow compassion to blind me again! Humans, mortals, have the luxury of seeing what is in front of them and letting that become all that matters. I am- I do not. I allowed myself to become Arthur's crutch, his bane. It is a mistake I will never repeat. I must never repeat."

Merlin whirled on Adrian with blazing eyes, an accusing finger pointing at him. "And don't think I don't know what you're doing!"

Adrian smirked. "Wouldn't dream of it. Only it's a bit of an odd position, being the one offering help instead of the one holding you back and convincing you not to meddle."

Merlin chuckled. "Instead you force me to justify myself to you."

"You looked like you were starting to doubt your decision. Besides, you became so passionate; your speech lost all those modern idioms you're so proud of. It was quite impressive." He paused for a moment, before continuing in a softer tone. "What are you going to do if they figure you out?"

Merlin's eyes softened and flashed with amusement. "If they figure that out, then I'll know I'm no longer needed."

"And what of the druid emissary?"

"He doesn't follow the Old Ways. It's possible he might figure it out and tell them, but I doubt it."

"Hmm." Adrian looked up at the sky. "I suppose I should go fell a tree for my canopy before the rain starts."

"It'll be quite the rainstorm."

"Will it? I'd better hurry then."

"Yes."

The rainstorm came just before lunch, forcing the pack to choose a new location for their meeting. They ended up deciding on a mostly unused corridor in the lower levels by the boiler room. The wolves would hear and smell anyone approaching. A stranger could get the wrong idea if they heard their conversation out of context - talking about houses they needed to scope out sounded bad enough with context.

"Right, okay, so let's adjourn now," said Stiles after they'd all seated themselves. He looked to Scott. "Or do you want to do the adjourning?"

"Uh, whatever man," Scott said with a shrug. "We're here, so just get on with it."

"'Kay, so first off, the library's online archives were a total bust." Stiles made a face. "Looks like we're gonna have to try the older newspapers. Which means going to the library and doing it the old-fashion, projector-type way."

"I've seen them do that on crime shows," said Isaac. "I feel your pain."

"You could come help."

"Not a chance."

Lydia cleared her throat. "Allison?" she asked, looking to the girl seated next to her.

Allison shook her head. "Sorry, nothing yet. The bestiary's over a thousand pages long and only parts of it are translated, so it's going to take a while."

Lydia nodded. "Well, we've got five possible houses from yesterday's flier run: 164 Columbus Crescent, 78 Jasper Street, 602 Cloverleaf Crescent, 679 Cloverleaf Crescent and 8 Market Way."

"Uh, Lydia?" said Danny. She looked over and raised an eyebrow at him. "You can take out 78 Jasper Street. There's nothing unusual with that house."

"What do you mean there's nothing unusual?!" Ethan exclaimed, looking outraged. "The woman that lives there is totally a goblin."

Danny rolled his eyes. "She is not. She's just a very short, very wrinkly old lady."

"She's a goblin!"

Danny gave Ethan an exasperated look. Ethan glared back.

"Does she, uh, smell like a goblin?" Stiles asked.

Ethan deflated. "Well, no, not really... but she could be masking her scent! Or something."

Danny looked at Lydia pointedly. "Take off the Jasper Street house."

"Got it."

"In that case, we should pair up and go check them out," said Scott. "I'll text Derek and see if he and Peter are willing to help. That way we can do all the houses tonight."

"Should we take out the duende if it's there?" Aiden asked.

"Uh, if you can, but if it lives in the walls then we might have to trap it or something."

"Well Harris said he was making that iron stuff," Isaac pointed out.

"Yeah, but we don't actually know how long that's going to take him," Allison pointed out.

"We could ask," said Stiles with a shrug.

Scott snickered. "Betcha you never thought you'd be thinking of Harris as your go-to guy.."

"Yeah, I know, the world just keeps getting weirder."

Derek stared at the dense copse of trees in front of him. Now that he was here alone, without the conflicting immediate scents of a dozen other people, he could appreciate the spells protecting the clearing. No wonder Scott and Isaac hadn't found it. Aiden may have been enjoying his chance to gloat a little too much, but it did honestly say something about his tracking skills that he'd been able to detect the subtle change in his surroundings.

Not that Derek would ever tell him that. Scott might want to get along with everyone and refuse to hold grudges, but he certainly hadn't forgiven the twins. It was just one more reason to leave Beacon Hills.

He knew he should just leave all the work to Scott – and Stiles and Lydia more like – and concentrate on the house, only answering the occasional call for help, but he couldn't help thinking that maybe if he'd been a better alpha, been stronger, maybe things wouldn't have gotten as bad as they had. It wasn't like he'd ever had any control over what Scott and Stiles did, but maybe he should've paid them more attention. Helped them find a way to locate the Nemeton without the ritual.

Derek shook his head, forcing down the wolf and feeling as his features smoothed down into their human shape. Then he stepped cautiously past the trees and into the clearing, walking slowly out of the shade, his eyes darting around for any signs of the wyvern. He didn't see it. He could certainly smell it, however: its unique lizard-like smell had permeated the entire area.

Just off to the side of the most dilapidated shack Derek had ever seen (magic, there had to be magic involved, because there was simply no way that thing was still standing without it), was a much newer structure. Derek recognized the brickwork as the forge Harris had been working on when they'd been here four days ago to speak to Merlin and pick up Stiles. It had come a long way since then. A narrow chimney towered over a wooden roof that was held up by several wooden supports. It looked stable enough, but temporary. Beneath the roof, the chimney widened considerably at its base and there was a wide opening just below waist-height with a platform made of more bricks that grew out from the chimney for several feet. He came closer and realized the platform's edges were higher and the inside of it was two bricks deep with a wide hole covered by a metal grate in the centre. The roof covered the entire platform and then quite a bit of ground past it.

Then he heard movement.

"Can I help you, Mister Hale?"

Derek looked up to the source of the voice. Mr. Harris stood at the edge of the clearing – the opposite side to where Derek himself had entered – carrying a woven basket full of herbs. And wild strawberries, judging by the smell. Derek immediately stomped out all the Little Red Riding Hood jokes that came to the tip of his tongue. They all sounded suspiciously like Stiles.

He greeted him with a nod. Harris returned his nod and walked towards him. "I was wondering how the forge was coming along."

The other man raised an eyebrow at him. "As you can see the hearth is done. There are a few pieces I require to make any of it work, although I suppose I could attempt to build a tuyere and bellows myself."

"Are they difficult to build?"

Harris shrugged. "The bellows, no, not really. The tueyre, however would be tricky. I also require an anvil and tools." He stopped in front of the makeshift forge and looked down at his handiwork. "Right now I'm waiting for Merlin to get back from his shopping so I can use his cellphone to see if I can order what I need online and get it shipped to Beacon Hills like I did with the bricks."

Derek frowned. "The iron... would it help find the duende?"

Harris looked up at him. "Find it?"

He nodded. "Scott and the others managed to narrow its hiding place to four potential houses and we went there last night to take a closer look, but without actually going inside, we're not sure how to tell if it's there."

"Ah yes, it lives in the walls of old houses. That is fairly tricky." He placed his basket on the brick platform and leaned against it thoughtfully. "Well, if the duende has taken residence in one of the houses, then bringing iron into contact with the house should have some reaction. It might not be anything obvious or dramatic, but you should feel a change."

Which meant that getting the forge up and running was somewhat important. "I... I have a truck," he said after a moment's pause.

Harris' eyes widened. "Are you offering to lend it to me or to drive me to Sacramento?"

Derek blinked and then frowned. Why Sacramento?

Harris made a dismissive gesture. "Well, technically just outside Sacramento. There's a farrier school there and thus a store that sells the necessary equipment."

"Tomrrow?"

Harris' eyes lit up with delight for a moment before he schooled his expression. "Why not? I certainly have nothing better to do. Or at least nothing that can't wait a day. I am curious though: why are you helping. I thought Stiles said you were planning to move away from Beacon Hills."

Derek tried to shrug, to act nonchalant, like it didn't matter. A tear-streaked face with bloody curls flashed through his mind and he closed his eyes, unable to pretend. "The kid that went missing Sunday? A jogger and his dog found him last night underneath a bunch of bushes by the senior's home on Oakwood Street. He was in the same shape as the others."

He heard Harris' sharp intake of breath and spared a thought to wonder if the man even needed to breath.

By the time Stiles reached the village he was panting for breath. Saturday morning lacrosse practice was was always full of all the running drills Flinstock could come up with and hurrying home afterwards to grab his stuff before driving up to Harris' clearing didn't give him much time to rest in between. Then he'd arrive only to find Myfanwy waiting for him with a note from Merlin that read: Gone shopping. Myfanwy will take you there. - M

Still, he got to ride the wyvern again, which was supercool. Not exactly relaxing given that she wasn't a luxury airplane and didn't come with seatbelts or handrails, but definitely cool.

After the last weekend, Stiles knew the way to Sanuye's house well enough not to need to orientate himself too much. Not having her or Merlin by his side during the walk meant that, for the first time, he became conscious of the looks he was getting from all sides. However, no one bothered him. At least not until he passed by the small convenience store on the main street.

There were three of them: tall, long-haired young men all slightly older than Stiles. He jumped slightly when they stepped in front of him, blocking his way. He took a few moments to assess them, to gauge their mood. The looked back at him with dark eyes that were hard and filled with equal measures of anger and curiosity, but no actual cruelty. Good, maybe they weren't bullies, just... concerned citizens? Yeah, Stiles knew he could never be so lucky. And Sanuye was too old for this to be some sort of shovel talk.

He'd dealt with bullies before and so his response was almost instinct. He grinned at them. "Uh, hi, something I can help you with?"

One of them stepped forward, until he was only inches away from his face. Stiles clamped down on the urge to back away. This guy had nothing on Derek in sheer intimidation factor, if only due to a lack of bulging muscles that came with being of a much less bulkier build that was closer to Stiles' own than the werewolf's. He did, however, have several feathers woven into his hair and a necklace made of porcupine quills and claws. Stiles might also have seen a hunting knife handing off his belt in a leather sheathe.

"You are the white boy that Sanuye Grass Whisperer is teaching," the young man stated, his voice surprisingly deep for such a lithe frame.

"Uhh... yeah, that would be me," Stiles answered, confused now. If they knew who he was then what was the problem? "Name's Stiles."

"Stiles. And what does a white man like you think he will do with the teachings of our people?"

Stiles blinked. "Um..."

"Leave him be!"

The young man in front of him took a step back and turned his head to glare at a slightly older man, who'd just walked out of the store. The newcomer was older – maybe in his late thirties – and wore jeans and engraved leather boots with a vest that looked like it was made out of animal hide.

"But-" he young man began to protest.

"No. Sanuye has made her decision and you will respect that."

The young man huffed and then turned abruptly before stalking off with his companions. Stiles let out a breath of relief and then turned to the man.

"Thanks," he said.

The man levelled a hard look on him. "Do not thank me. Sanuye agreed to train you without consulting the tribe. She claims you are worthy of it, but we are not so sure."

Stiles swallowed. "Right, got it... Well, she's expecting me so I should, uh, get going then." He spared one, last glance to the retreating trio and then hurried off.

Sanuye told him to sit down and poured them both iced tea. Her own blend of iced tea, which Stiles decided tasted even better than Harris' blend. She sat down at the table with her own glass and watched him silently for a few moments. Stiles tried not to fidget and mostly failed.

"Am I... am I causing you problems with the others in the village?" he finally asked softly.

Sanuye looked at him in surprise. "What makes you think that?"

"I, uh, ran into a few of the locals and they may have made it clear they're not happy with you teaching me."

She nodded. "Normally I would never have agreed to teach you so readily even with what I can see in your soul. I only agreed to do so because of Merlin, because he was my grandfather's friend. You are a stranger to the tribe and should have earned their trust and respect first."

"Oh. So, is there something I should be doing to, uh, make it better?"

"Prove yourself to them by learning well and faithfully. It is more difficult this way, because they cannot see what I see when I look at you, but if I had not judged you capable of it, I would not have invited you to come back. So prove yourself to them and you will have justified my decision."

"Okay that... doesn't sound easy at all."

She smiled. "It won't be. Now finish your tea so that we can leave."

Stiles groaned. "Why couldn't we have just, like, met in the forest?"

Isaac prowled through the preserve, eyes darting from side to side and ears straining to catch the smallest bit of movement. Every few steps he sniffed the air.

He hoped the duende came. He wanted to take that thing down. Badly.

A branch snapped and Isaac froze. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw two orbs glowing from the shadows and then light reflected momentarily off of sharp teeth glistening with saliva. He growled. The thing in the shadows echoed his growl. It sounded big.

A bush rustled gently as something brushed against it. Then the creature in the shadows pounced.

Isaac leapt to the side to avoid it, turning as he landed and bending his knees. The creature landed onto four legs with heavy thud and rustle a of leaves. It was huge, easily the size of a small bear, but longer, narrower and when it twisted its upper body to train glowing, green-yellow eyes on Isaac, the giant protruding fangs were definitely not those of any bear.

Isaac let his wolf take over at that point. He snarled and pounced onto the creature's back. The beast managed to twist mostly out of his way, but he still felt as his claws scraped its size. It hissed in pain, but Isaac had no time to revel in his small victory, because then there were sharp claws heading towards him.

He dodged to the side, but not quickly enough. Pain exploded viciously along his right bicep and he hissed as he hit the ground. But this was nothing compared to what he'd received at the hands of the Alpha Pack. Before he'd had time to register the feel of blood flowing down his arm, he was already on his feet, glaring at the beast. He could see its tail waving serpent-like behind it.

The growl came from deep within Isaac's throat. He charged at it.

One, large clawed paw struck out and batted him to the side and he felt the tug where the claws caught on the side of his head. But blood was already pumping too loudly in his head, drowning out the pain from the new wound. He rolled out of the way of a second strike and onto his feet.

Then he took off, intending to circle around it, but the creature leapt after him, powerful hind legs propelling it half the distance between them in a single bound. Isaac felt stone cold terror take hold of him for the first time since spotting it. Turning around would mean meeting it head on and Isaac knew he couldn't compete with those vicious front fangs.

He kept running, hoping the unfamiliar forest would slow it down. It didn't. The creature was at his heels, its heavy breaths behind him steady and strong.

Then he vaulted over a fallen tree trunk. No sooner had he landed then he knew that had been stupid - he should've turned to avoid it. Isaac leapt forward-

-and jerked in mid-air as powerful jaws clenched around his leg. He hit the ground with a thud and the pain hit him seconds later. He howled. The sound reverberated around the clearing before disappearing into the night air. The noise seemed to startle the creature, because even through the pain he felt it freeze and its jaws relax. He twisted his body and pulled himself forward, ignoring the new flares of pain as teeth scraped across the wound and the rest of his leg. Then he lifted his other leg and kicked out at the creature's head.

His foot impacted with a hollow sound and the creature stepped backwards, looking momentarily dazed. Isaac pulled himself further back with his arms and good leg before attempting to stand. Pain flared up along his leg and he cried out, tears springing to his eyes.

His eyes sprung open again at the low growl. The creature was stalking towards him, taking its time as it watched him intently as though keeping an eye out for any more surprises. Isaac really wished he had one or two left up his sleeve. His breaths were coming quickly and he knew was beginning to panic and didn't know how to stop.

Then the forest shook with the strength of an Alpha's howl. Scott. Help was on the way and Isaac wanted to cry. The creature paused and turned its head curiously, before shrugging it off and turning its attention back to Isaac. Because it knew the same thing he did: Scott was too far away.

Isaac pushed himself into a half-crouch, hissing as his mangled leg spiked pain with every move. He brought his claws up, ready to meet it. The creature opened its jaws and roared at him. Then it pounced and Isaac threw himself to the side, his vision flashing white at the impact.

When his vision returned to him, he couldn't help but wonder why he was alive. Then his nose picked up on the new smell. Derek. He lifted himself onto his elbow and saw as the creature thew itself onto the forest floor and rubbed against it in order to dislodge the werewolf currently clinging to its back, claws embedded into flesh. It worked and Derek let go, immediately rolling out of reach and into a crouch. He pounced back onto the creature only moments later. The creature twisted its body and met Derek's attack with its jaw wide open. Isaac's breath caught, but Derek managed to duck out of the way of the teeth coming his way. He didn't, however, manage to move out of the way of the claws that ripped through his jacket and across his torso.

Derek stumbled backwards at the blow, but then his glowing blue eyes snapped up. He growled. The creature growled back at him, its tail swishing about in irritation. Derek backed up slightly and crouched down. The creature mirrored his crouch.

They leapt at each other and clashed in a tangle of teeth and claws. Derek howled as teeth bit into his shoulder. He slashed at its neck and shoulders with his claws, causing deep lines of blood to blossom upon its front. The creature eventually let go, letting Derek fold to the ground like a ragdoll. Isaac's heart clenched at how unsteadily Derek got back up. He tried to stand up to go help him, but gasped at the fire the attempt reawakened in his leg.

The creature seemed to shake off its injuries. It leaped at Derek.

A figure moved out of the shadows of the trees, darting into the beast's path. The creature let out a roar of pain. The figure seemed to heave forward and then Isaac saw the beast flop backwards, a large branch sticking out of its chest. It was still breathing, but as it struggled to rise again, Derek jumped into action. He darted at it and slashed at its throat with his claws.

The creature yeowled with pain. Derek slashed at it again and Isaac heart a wet gurgle. It breathed one, last shaky breath and then it went still.

Which was when Scott burst into the clearing.

"Isaac, are you okay?" he demanded, claws out and eyes glowing alpha red. "What's going on?"

Then he caught sight of the dead beast. His eyes widened.

"What the hell is that?!"

"I don't know," answered Derek through clenched teeth as the second figure examined the wound on his shoulder.

"We didn't exactly have time to ask it while it was trying to have us for dinner," the second figure answered and Isaac shuddered at the smooth voice of Peter Hale. "Thankfully it's dead now, so maybe Deaton will be able to tell us."

"Not that you were much help," Derek groused.

Peter stepped back, looking insulted. "What do you mean? You might have slashed its throat open, but I was the one that incapacitated it."

"Yeah, with a tree."

Peter rolled his eyes and put his hands into the pockets of his long black wool coat. "A tree branch, thank you, and this thing clearly eats werewolves for breakfast, so I decided a slightly different approach than unco-ordinated slashing was warranted. An approach, which I might add, worked extremely well given that we're all alive and it's not."

Scott meanwhile had knelt beside Isaac and was examining his leg. "I think we'll need to get you to Deaton," he said, looking rather green now that his face had morphed back to human again. "And possibly the hospital. I think you might have twisted the bones."

"Doesn't feel all that great either," Isaac responded with a strained chuckle.

Derek shooed off his uncle and walked over to them. Peter, shrugged and walked over to examine the creature more closely. "What were you doing out here anyway?" he asked Isaac.

"Patrolling for the duende."

Derek looked back at the beast. "That's not a duende."

"Uh, no. Obviously, I didn't find it."

Author's Notes: For those of you, who don't know: a farrier is the proper term for a horseshoer (which isn't any sort of term at all). And, according to the internet, there is indeed a farrier school just outside Sacramento, Cal. The supply store, however, is my own guess.

Hope I haven't shocked anyone too much with my twist on Merlin. ;) Had anyone guessed at that, by the way?