Okay, so this time the delay did actually happen. Sorry about that. Anyway, thanks so much to everyone who's stuck around and read, reviewed and/or added this story to their favourites. Here's part one of the finale!

Chapter 35

Lydia was waiting for him on the sidewalk when he got out of the jeep. Stiles greeted her with a smile and a wave before craning his head over to see if Scott's motorcycle was in its usual spot yet. He'd told Stiles he'd be in school today, but hadn't answered any of his texts this morning... He was probably running late and hadn't have time to answer.

Stiles sighed before grabbing his bag out of the back seat and locking the doors.

"Hey Lydia," he said, trying to appear cheerful.

She gave him a look and he immediately dropped the fake smile. "Hello, Stiles. How's Scott?"

Stiles ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Scott's... dealing. Possibly not particularly well, but he's at least gotten past the point where he wants to tear things apart. Which, you know, is way worse now with the whole alpha werewolf thing."

Lydia's lips quirked as they turned to head into the school. "I heard people talking about the unusual howling coming from the preserve over the weekend. Some are talking about the Beacon Hills Protectors, saying they killed the child-eater and are now patrolling their territory."

Stiles blinked. "Really? I haven't heard any of that. Weird."

"You've been with Scott all weekend."

"Well, yeah. And his mom and my dad and Isaac."

"Wait, this was a pack thing and you didn't invite me?"

"Ah, no, it wasn't a pack thing. I mean, Allison wasn't there for one."

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Allison was off on some Hunter training thing for the week with her dad. I saw her yesterday; she got a broken collarbone as a souvenir."

"Really? Ouch. What happened?"

"She didn't say. She did turn all red when I asked about it though."

Stiles snickered. "And how was your trip with your dad?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I was back by Wednesday night. You know this, because you saw me at Scott's on Thursday."

"Right, I remember now. Didn't get a chance to ask how L.A. was, though"

Lydia shrugged. "Fine. Shopping with my dad's credit card is always fun. And your camping trip?"

"It was awesome. Learnt how to make fire without matches."

"Using the power of your mind?"

"Ah, no, by rubbing two sticks together."

"Hmm."

They walked up the stairs into the school in silence and Stiles briefly wondered when this had become normal: when beautiful, popular, smart Lydia Martin had habitually started choosing him, geeky awkward loser Stiles Stilinski, to walk into school with. Junior high him would be absolutely giddy with excitement.

Danny joined them by the lockers, looking freshly tanned and wearing a string of seashells around his neck. "Hey guys, how was your March Break?"

"Not as good as yours," said Stiles. "Wish I had grandparents that lived in Hawaii."

Danny grinned. "Yeah, the weather was great and the waves were perfect."

"And the people?" Lydia asked teasingly as she eyed the seashells.

Danny shrugged, smiling slyly. "There were a few that weren't bad."

Stiles laughed. "Well, at least someone had a good break."

Danny frowned at that. "What do you mean, did something hap-holy shit, Allison!"

Stiles and Lydia looked behind them to where Allison smiled awkwardly at them. Her neck was in a brace and there was a rather impressive-looking dark purple bruise covering her left cheekbone, along with some bandages on her lower arms.

"Hey guys," she said, looking rather embarrassed.

"What the hell happened while I was away?!"

Stiles laughed. "Hey, that actually has nothing to do with us; Allison was off with her dad doing hunter stuff. We actually managed to have a relatively peaceful break – I mean there was drama, but not of the blood and violence type. Although I do second Danny's question: what did you do, decide to challenge a bear?! Daily dose of werewolf wasn't enough excitement for you?"

Allison flushed a deep crimson. "There was a slight accident."

Stiles raised an eyebrow. "Accident I'll believe, but 'slight'?"

"Look, I made a little mistake and things, sort of... escalated. It's embarrassing, okay? My dad was worried after it happened and while he drove me to the hospital and then while the doctors looked me over. Even now he's still acting all sympathetic and stuff. But inside, I know he's laughing at me."

Just then the warning bell rang, so they headed to economics. Stiles glanced behind them, hoping to catch a glimpse of Scott as he tore down the corridor. But Scott and Isaac didn't appear until after the final bell for class had rung, both of them slinking into the classroom like a pair of bandits. Stiles turned back to meet Scott's eyes, but Scott was busy staring at Allison in horror. Allison was glaring back at him, her eyes daring him to say something. Scott opened his mouth and then thought better of it.

Flintstock waltzed into the room and closed the room. "Welcome back, everyone, I hope you all enjoyed your March Breaks," he said as he made his way to the front of the room. "McCall, Lahey," he then barked. "Don't think I didn't notice both of you sneaking in after the bell; you're lucky I was on the other end of the hallway."

Then he noticed Allison. "Oh my god, what the hell happened to you? Did a building fall on top of you?"

"Not quite," Allison muttered under her breath.

"And oh, look, Stilinski!" Stiles groaned internally. "Finally decided to join us, have you? No more excuses to miss lacrosse practise?"

Stiles blinked. "Uh, I was in a coma..."

"I'll grant you points for creativity there, Stilinski, but I've heard better."

"Really? Did they involve aliens?"

The class laughed and Stiles felt his phone vibrate inside his pocket. Once the coach's attention was drawn away from him by actual teaching, he sneaked a peak at the message. It was from Scott.

Sorry was running late. Pack meeting tonight after practise. My place.

Stiles turned around in his seat and flashed Scott a thumb's up. Scott grinned back at him.

"Really, Scott, did you have to invite the whole pack?" Stiles complained as he led the last arrivals into the McCall's living room. "You couldn't have just invited the whole-pack-except-for-Peter-Hale?"

"Stiles, Stiles, why all the hostility?" Peter drawled as he walked in behind him. "I've been so good lately too; haven't hardly killed anyone."

"How do you hardly kill someone?" Allison asked from the farthest end of the couch and then looked like she immediately regretted it when it brought Peter's attention to her.

He blinked and pointed at her. "You! You've changed your look. I like it: the white and grey really suits you."

Allison rolled her eyes.

Meanwhile Stiles turned to Scott. "Why couldn't your dad have gone after him? I mean did we seriously not once mention Peter Hale in the whole, what, two weeks he had you bugged?!"

Scott shrugged. "Maybe we didn't call him Hale so he didn't make the connection."

"Or forgot to mention the psycho killer part," Isaac added.

"You should keep it in mind for the next time you're being bugged," Peter suggested amicably.

Scott's expression darkened. "There won't be a next time."

"You're sure he won't tell anyone?" Derek asked from where he was leaning against the doorframe, glowering at the room.

Scott shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant (he wasn't fooling anyone). "He promised he wouldn't and, well, he might not exactly be great at keeping promises, but I'm pretty sure that no matter how much of a dick he is, he does want me safe."

"But we should still watch out for a parade of black, unmarked vans?" Stiles asked.

"Yeah."

Lydia cleared her throat. "I think we have bigger things to worry about than the FBI," she said, looking pointedly at Scott and Stiles. Both boys sheepishly nodded.

"So is there, like, an amulet or something we need to destroy?" Isaac asked. "A counter curse we need to sit around in a circle and recite?"

Stiles and Lydia both looked at him with flat, unamused expressions.

"Not unless you want to go digging up the Nemeton in order to destroy the old shaman-er, medicine man's grave, but I'm pretty sure that would only make it worse," said Stiles

"Digging up the Nemeton plus destroying a grave would definitely make it worse," Lydia added.

"The Nemeton?" Derek asked with a frown.

Stiles nodded. "I could see it a lot clearer from the air, but Silver Fox hinted at it too. And, well, the legend itself says the Hale family went into the forest and then came out with a tree that had apparently grown over the guy's grave. Their emissary died in the process and viola, we suddenly have a little druidic temple in the middle of non-druid North America. "

Lydia took up the explanation. "The part that Merlin had been pointing to, is that for some reason, this story, this legend died out shortly after taking place. No one knows about it, which means that it's like it never happened."

"But it did," said Scott with a deep, confused frown. "I mean the curse is real."

"Yeah, it is, Scotty," said Stiles. "Except that the only people who know about it are us. To everyone else the duende, the earthquake and all the other shit that's been happening around here were all bad luck and one crazy psycho. To them there is no curse."

"So you're saying it's about perception?" Allison asked.

"In a way."

"You're still not telling us how we destroy it," Isaac huffed.

"We don't. We negotiate."

"We what?" said Scott.

Stiles took a deep breath, but Lydia beat him to the explanation.

"We negotiate," she said. "Well, Stiles does. There's a person at the centre of the curse, a spirit. We think the reason the Nemeton was planted there or put there or however they did it, was to combat the curse. That's why it's been drawing power, why it called Scott to itself in order to drain him."

"And why it suddenly grew up during the earthquake," Peter added, his eyes suddenly full of understanding. "The pack always treated the Nemeton like a protector, even though the stories were always hazy as to why..."

"Hm, I've been wondering whether the pack did that on purpose," said Lydia thoughtfully.

Stiles cocked his head as he looked at her. "You mean make sure the curse was forgotten over time? That's sort of dumb; I mean, why would you want to forget about the potentially deadly curse?"

"To lessen its power," Lydia answered. "If people didn't know about it, they couldn't believe in it."

"Yeah, I get that, but it's super short-sighted of them. 'Cause now we're left with the worse-case scenario where the curse becomes active again and no one knows anything about it. I mean, we wouldn't have known anything either if not for Harris and then Merlin. Yeah, Sanuye knew about the curse, but would it have really occurred to us to go looking for help at the reservation?"

"Our ancestors didn't anticipate the fire," Peter pointed out. "The old house had a large library full of books of lore and mythology, not to mention an entire wall of tomes on the family history – some dated back to the sixteenth century, before we came over from Europe. Unfortunately, it's all been lost so I obviously can't go check, but I'd bet the information about the curse was in there somewhere."

He paused. "It's also possible that my sister, as the Hale Alpha, personally knew about it. Could very well have been information that was passed down from alpha to alpha." He shrugged. "Well, we'll never know now."

"Would the destruction of the pack have caused the land to destabilize to the point where the Nemeton wasn't powerful enough to contain the curse?" Derek suddenly asked.

Everyone looked to him.

"I thought it was the ritual to save our parents that did that," said Allison.

Everyone looked to Stiles. Stiles took a few moments to realize all eyes were on him.

"Why are you all looking at me?" he exclaimed, throwing his arms up. "Even Merlin made it seem like it was all sort of half guesswork! The ritual definitely woke the curse up, but yeah, sure, maybe if the land was stronger it wouldn't have woken up as quickly or it would've been weaker or maybe it would've just fallen back asleep or something. The lack of wolf pack probably had some sort of impact, but hell if I know what it is!"

Scott chuckled at his friend. "I don't think it really matters what the difference is," he said. "Unless the Hale Pack had a time machine hidden in the woods – which you probably would've already used by now if they did."

Peter and Derek both looked at Scott with amusement.

"Nope, sorry, no time machine," said Peter.

"Damn," said Isaac with a half-grin.

"So, when exactly are we doing this?" Allison asked. "This, uh, negotiating?"

"Saturday after the game," said Stiles. "And, as a word of warning, we're really not sure how long this will take."

Lydia turned to Scott. "You'll need to take turns guarding him, to make sure nothing hurts him while he's talking to the spirit."

Stiles nodded. "Yeah, that would definitely not be cool."

Scott looked worried. "You think this'll take a long time?"

Stiles shrugged and exchanged glances with Lydia. "Hard to tell. Could be over in minutes... or it could take days."

Scott shuddered. Isaac quickly raised his hand. "Not It for telling the sheriff if Stiles can't come home on Saturday night."

Stiles raised an eyebrow. "Uh, luckily my dad's working an overnight on Saturday, so the earliest you'd have to tell him is Sunday..."

"Still not It!"

"We should get Allison to tell him," Scott said, looking over his shoulder at Isaac with a grin. "He'd never get angry at her when she looks so injured."

Allison glared at him.

"Guys!" Stiles glared at all of them. "The point we're trying to get to is that in most legends and stories about the fae world or the spirit world or whatever, there's a distinct emphasis on the the fact that time flows differently there."

Allison's eyes widened. "You mean like how when we did the ritual, it only felt like it had taken a few minutes - maybe an hour at most - but when we came out again it'd actually been 16 hours."

Lydia nodded. "Exactly. So it might go really quickly on Stiles' end, but to us it could be days."

"Which is why we need to make sure nothing hurts him while he's in there," Scott agreed with a nod. "Okay, we can do that." He looked around to the other wolves. "Should we make a schedule?"

Somehow, they'd managed to win the lacrosse game. Scott had no idea how. He barely remembered the game. He knew he'd played, had vague recollections of running around on the field, knew the coach had slapped him on the back at one point and congratulated him on something... Had he scored a goal? Probably. Someone had, since they won 10-2.

The game hardly mattered though, because now they were standing before the Nemeton – well, right outside its boundaries since Stiles couldn't actually walk up to it. Allison had stayed behind, but the rest of the pack – sans parents – had gathered here. Storm landed on a nearby branch with a soft rustle of leaves.

Kik kik kik

Beside him, Stiles looked up at the hawk and smiled. "Thanks, Storm," he said. "I promise I'll be careful."

"You'd better," said Scott.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "You guys just make sure nothing eats me in the meantime."

Scott nodded stiffly. He clenched his fists and met Lydia's eyes. She was trying to look unconcerned, but her rapid heartbeat and tense posture betrayed her nervousness.

Stiles took a deep breath. "Well, I guess there's no point in stalling," he said before walking over to the tree Storm was perched in. He sat down and folded his legs in front of him. Then he looked up at them and grinned. "See you all on the other side of the rabbit hole."

Then he closed his eyes and went still. Scott saw the moment Stiles' body slumped back against the tree and figured that was when he'd left his body. He looked to Lydia, who appeared to be listening for something. Suddenly, she perked up.

"Thanks, Stiles," she said to thin air. "And good luck."

"So, he's off?" Scott asked.

Lydia nodded.

They waited for a while. Nothing happened.

"Wish we could see what's going on," said Isaac.

"Yeah," Scott agreed. "You can't hear anything, can you?" he asked Lydia.

Lydia shook her head. "He's basically had to somehow travel beneath the Nemeton – or into the Nemeton." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and sighed in frustration. "The biggest problem with this whole thing is that we really have no idea how any of this is going to work. I mean, realistically, we're even assuming that Stiles can find his way to the spirit in the centre of the curse in the first place."

Silence greeted her statement and minutes passed before anyone spoke again.

"Well, since this could go on for a while, Derek and I are going to go back to the house," Peter declared. "We'll see you this evening when we come to take over guard duty."

"Call us if you need anything," Derek added.

Scott nodded to them and then watched as the two Hale men ran off into the forest.

"Do you really think you'll need more than one person at a time here?" Isaac asked him as he came to stand next to him.

Scott shrugged as, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lydia sit down next to Stiles and pull her laptop out of the schoolbag she brought with her. "You never know. I mean, the curse caused an earthquake, remember?"

"Right, yeah, earthquake... that's not making me feel any better about this."

Hours passed and nothing happened. Scott and Isaac amused themselves by playing games on their cellphones while Lydia tapped away at her laptop. Storm flew off at around mid-afternoon and then came back twenty minutes later with a small bird in her claws which she proceeded to devour much to the disgust of both werewolves, who could smell it and hear it as well as see it.

It was coming on to twilight when the wind picked up.

Both Scott and Isaac were immediately on alert. It felt like storm wind, like the prelude to a deluge of rain and cracklings of thunder, but it smelt wrong. There was no water, no hint of moisture at all in the air; it smelt... angry. They rose to their feet, slipping their phones back into their pockets. Scott heard Lydia following their lead, heard the zipper on her bag close softly as she put away her laptop.

"What is it?" she asked quietly as she came up behind them.

"I don't know," said Scott, his eyes never leaving the forest as he scanned it for attackers. "It smells wrong."

Kak kak kak

"Isaac, stay close to Stiles."

"Okay," Isaac said quietly and then Scott heard careful steps as the other wolf backed up to crouch next to Stiles.

"Scott."

He turned at the tone of Lydia's voice. Her eyes were wide and she looked pale as she stared ahead. Her voice was barely a whisper when she spoke. "Something's coming."

Just then an ear-splitting screech resounded from the forest. Scott whipped around, resisting the urge to cover his ears so he could scan the forest in search of its source. It came again.

"There!" Isaac cried and Scott looked over to see Isaac pointing to a spot in the forest. Scott followed his gaze, but there was nothing there. He lifted his nose to smell the air.

"I can't smell anything," he said just as the wind picked up again, whipping around the clearing and swallowing his words as it blew leaves and twigs into his face.

"I can," he thought he heard Lydia whisper just before another screech echoed from the depths of the forest. Only this time it was followed by several more. Something in the shadows moved and Scott took a step forward to get a closer look. The shadow leapt out at him.

Scott jumped out of the way as it raced past him, a dark grey blur that seemed barely tangible and felt like nothing more than a breath of smoke. It had no scent. To the other side of him, he heard Isaac cry out in surprise. He glanced to him quickly and then back to forest.

Then it felt like the forest exploded. Suddenly, the screeching was coming at them from all sides and the shadows - lightening quick and barely visible in the rapidly-disappearing daylight - besieged them from all sides. They flew at them like ghostly arrows from the dark and Scott dodged two more before he'd finally had enough. Growling, he pushed his wolf out, feeling his hands turn to claws and his face grow hair, forehead ridges and pointed teeth.

It was much easier to see the shapes through the red-hazed eyes of Alpha.

Not that it helped much as they were still too fast to get a proper look. Scott stepped in and swiped his claws at one that came at him from the side. His claws went through it and he stumbled as he encountered less resistance than he'd expected. The shape shimmered slightly, but continued on past him as though he hadn't touched it at all. Bewildered, he looked down at his claws. There was no blood, no sign that he'd cut through anything.

He looked to Isaac to see if he was having any luck. Isaac was fully transformed, growling at the quickly-moving shadows. Scott watched as the other werewolf struck out at them, watched as his claws sliced through the air and through the shape as though it were nothing more than a cloud of smoke.

Scott took a deep breath. Were these shadows even real? Maybe they were illusions.

He crouched down- and then darted to the side as one came right at his head. Snarling, he saw the next one coming and jumped, closing his arms around it as he tried to catch it. Cold. He fell to the ground with a dull thump he barely felt, his mind too preoccupied with the freezing lump that had suddenly lodged itself inside his torso.

"Scott!"

Kak kak kak

He tried to breathe, but his lungs felt stiff, frozen, air coming out of them in narrow wisps. His chest hurt: it felt heavy and hough his heart beat quickly, it felt constricted, encased in a layer of ice. Scott squeezed his eyes and fought the pain just as he fought for every breath, this ritual so familiar and yet so foreign since becoming a werewolf. Something was shaking him. He inhaled a scent that was full of fear, but friendly.

Dammit, he thought to himself, I'm an alpha: I'm supposed to be protecting them!

In his mind's eye he could see Stiles lifelessly slumped against a tree, Lydia hovering above him helplessly – she would protect him, he knew she would, but what could she do against creatures that not even the big, strong werewolves could hurt – and Isaac, scared but loyal, refusing to run when his friends were in danger. They were his friends, his pack. His to protect.

He dug a clawed hand into the earth beneath him and pushed against the pain, ignoring the cold lump in his chest. He was a werewolf; he was faster, stronger and could hold his breath for longer than before. He pushed himself up, feeling Isaac's presence at his back. He got to his feet, still feeling the ice around his heart, but also feeling suddenly stronger – it was with some surprise that he realized his limbs shook with exhaustion as much as they did with energy.

Suddenly, Isaac pulled him to the side. He looked up in time to see a shape dart through the spot they'd been standing in.

"Are you okay?" Isaac asked him.

Scott took a deep breath, noting how much easier it came. "Yeah, I'll be okay, thanks. Those things are definitely not harmless though."

"Yeah, figured that out for myself."

He held his arm out and Scott looked down to watch as an ugly jagged scratch slowly healed itself. His eyes widened and his head whipped over to Lydia and Stiles. Lydia was holding a large branch in front of her like a sword and swung it at the shapes as they came close.

Although, oddly enough there weren't many coming close to her. Scott didn't have time to think about that, however, as he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and ducked. He rolled to the side as a second whizzed past him, growling in annoyance and brandishing his claws against a third. Once again, they slid harmlessly through the dark shape.

"What the hell are these things?!" Isaac growled in frustration.

"I think they're spirits of some sort," Lydia answered before Scott could.

Scott glanced to her in question. She noticed his look, but her eyes darted back and forth, watching for shapes coming at her. "They feel like death. Like Abigail did, only different. I don't think they're quite as powerful."

"They don't need to be, there's so many of them," Isaac grumbled.

Scott cried out as pain shot across his left leg. He looked down and saw a jagged cut. It was deep, right down to the flesh, and burned as though the blade had been heated first. Movement out of the corner of his eye had him dodging again. And then another was coming at him so Scott just let himself fall to the ground, saw it dart above him.

The trees ahead of him rustled and he flipped himself to his feet. He heard Isaac cry out in pain. Derek and Peter rushed out into the clearing. Scott blinked.

"What are you two doing here?" he asked.

Derek's eyebrows rose. "We came to take over guard duty," he said and then ducked out of the way of an oncoming shadow.

"So much for a boring evening," Peter quipped. "I even brought a book."

"Depending on the book, it might be a better weapon than anything else we've tried," said Isaac.

"Hm, as much as I do believe in the power of words, I-aah!"

Peter stumbled forward, a long cut blossoming across his shoulder. Next to him, Derek crouched and growled as he shifted into a werewolf. Peter hissed and tried to get a look at the cut. "How very unsportsmanlike," he said. "And I liked this shirt."

Derek stopped growling for a moment in order to raise an eyebrow at his uncle. "You've been working on the house in it all day."

Peter rolled his eyes as he dodged a shadow. "Alright, fine, I don't actually care about this shirt; it just seemed like the thing to say."

Then he, too, shifted and swiped at one of the on-coming shadows. He examined his hand for a few moments after it came up empty. "I don't think we're going to hurt them this way."

"Funnily enough, we figured that part out for ourselves," Scott said, growling in frustration as he dodged around two more shadows. "Anything else obvious you'd like to add?"

"Oh I don't know, Scott, you're the Alpha," Peter drawled back and Scott could hear the amusement in his voice.

Scott growled in annoyance. That was not helpful at... oh. Of course. He was the Alpha and this was his territory – and they didn't really need to kill these things: chasing them away would do just fine too. He took a deep breath, pulling it into the werewolf within him, felt as it swirled inside until it was like a warm ball of bright red light, destroying every last bit of ice left by the shadow.

He threw his head back and howled. The earth echoed with his voice and the forest trembled.

When every last breath of sound had been forced from his throat, he lowered his head. The silence that fell across the clearing was as deafening as his howl had been. The forest around them was equally silent, not a single movement to be seen.

Lydia gasped.

Scott spun around, his claws up and teeth bared, power thrumming through his limbs. Thirst for the hunt was fresh and powerful in his veins. But Lydia's eyes were wide, the tree branch lowered, forgotten, in her hands as she stared at the Nemeton. Scott followed her gaze, but saw nothing unusual.

"Lydia?" he heard Isaac ask.

"The Nemeton," she whispered reverently. "It's glowing."

Scott stared at the great tree, squinting his eyes and then finally gave up with a shake of his head. He couldn't see it. A scentless wind blew through the clearing.

And then, with an orchestra of deafening shrieks, all hell broke loose.

Hehe, oh come on, you know that plan of theirs just sounded way too easy to go the way they hoped it would. Well, see you guys in a couple of days with part 2!