Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf.

Loki's phone buzzed against her thigh, and she pulled it out of her pocket. It was a text from Malia.

Malia: are you coming tonight?

Loki bit her lip guiltily. It was a big lacrosse game for her friends, and she felt bad about not being there to support them, but she had other stuff to do that night. She hesitated, and then typed out her response.

Loki: sorry. Tell them good luck for me.

Shutting off her phone and turning back to her companion, Loki raised her eyebrows at her unusual company. The experienced werewolf hunter was checking his gun to make sure that it was loaded, but he looked up at Loki and saw her inquisitive gaze.

"What's wrong?" Argent asked, turning back to the weapon in his hands. She shook her head.

"Nothing," she responded. "But you still haven't told me how we're planning on finding your sister. Or why you asked me to help instead of Scott." Argent picked something up from beside it and examined it closely before tossing it to Loki. She caught it easily, and turned it over in her hands. It was a bone from a Berserker.

"Scott has a lacrosse game tonight," Argent replied. "I decided he needed a break from stuff like this – just for a night." Loki nodded, catching Argent's implied meaning. He knew that for all Scott's good-heartedness and selflessness when it came to protecting the humans and supernaturals of Beacon Hills, Scott really just wanted to be a teenager. Loki, on the other hand… "And besides," Argent continued. "I've heard you have quite the reputation as a good tracker, and I'm not sure Scott could track something as challenging as this."

"You want me to track your sister from this?" Loki asked, frowning. "This will lead us to the Berserker, not to Kate. If she's as smart as you say she is, she'll know that, and she'll have sent this particular Berserker back to – wherever – and found a new one to serve as her subjugate in its place." Argent nodded.

"You're right," he agreed with the werewolf. "But I don't want you to track the Berserker." He took the bone back from the girl and ran his finger along it. "This bone has traces of calcium hydroxide." He turned his fingertip out so Loki could see the faint gloss of white residue there. Argent looked at the girl. "You know what it's used for, right?" Loki shrugged, and then nodded.

"Something to do with pipes, right?" Argent nodded, handing the bone back to her.

"You think you can figure out which drain this came from?" Loki's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"I can try."

Loki opened the manhole cover, eyeing the tunnel uneasily. She glanced at the hunter next to her.

"I think this is it," she responded, keeping her voice quiet so it wouldn't echo down the hole. She moved to descend, but the man caught her arm.

"Let me go first," he requested. Shrugging, Loki stepped back, allowing the hunter to move in. Following him down the rungs of the ladder, she tried to soften the fall of her feet so that they wouldn't make any noise. She wasn't exactly sure of who – or what – was waiting for them, but she didn't want to tempt fate and alert them to their presence prematurely.

Loki's feet touched cement, and she took her hands off the rusted metal rungs, wiping them absentmindedly on the side of her jeans. Argent beckoned her forward, and she slid after him, following him around the corner of the drain. Water dripped down from the ceiling, hitting Loki's head and rolling down her spine. Loki's eyes were drawn to the ground next to her.

Squatting down, Loki reached into the water, which was only a few inches deep, and fished out a bone. She glanced up at Argent, who was bending down for a better look, and handed him the bone. As he examined it, the back of Loki's neck prickled. She stood up, glaring at Peter in front of them and shifting into an automatic defensive stance.

Despite not having werewolf reflexes, years of hunting meant that Argent noticed Peter only ever-so-slightly after Loki, and his gun was already snapped up in a defensive position as he stared the werewolf down.

"How did you find her?" Argent demanded, meaning Kate, of course. Peter smirked.

"Keen sense of smell," he drawled in reply. His eyes slid to Loki. "You?" Argent pulled out the Berserker bone the two had used to track.

"This came out of Scott's side," he responded. "There are traces of calcium hydroxide on it – it's used by water treatment plants as an anti-corrosive. Loki helped me find the correct storm drain." Peter raised his eyebrows, nodding in a captivated manner.

"That's very impressive," he told the hunter. Then, looking around in mock-concern, he continued. "I wonder if one of them might still be around…"

A growl and the harsh smell of a Berserker alerted Loki to the presence behind her – but not in time. It closed its claws around her throat, cutting her gasp of surprise short and lifting her in the air so that her feet dangled a foot off the ground. Loki scrabbled at the claw clamped around her neck, choking for air. The Berserker was stronger than her, and all of her attempts to escape were fruitless.

Argent's eyes narrowed, and he lifted his gun to point it at the Berserker. He aimed carefully, not wanting to hit Loki, and his finger curled around the trigger. He pulled back, and loud gunshots echoed throughout the small space.

The Berserker howled as the bullets hit it, more out of anger than pain, and threw Loki aside. Anticipating this, Loki managed to catch herself before she hit the ground, and only stumbled slightly before leaping at the Berserker again.

Jumping onto its back, Loki caught it in a chokehold, applying pressure to the exposed throat of the creature. She tried not to flinch as she realized that the gap in the armor exposed human skin. Forcing herself to focus, Loki dug her claws into its throat. As she did so, it shook itself, trying to shake her off its back. Argent took the Berserker's momentary distraction to shoot at it again.

The creature snapped its paw out, grabbing the gun and tossing it away. With its other hand, it plucked Loki from its back and tossed her against the wall of the drain. Loki's head cracked against the hard cement, and she hit the ground, eyes rolling back into her head.

Peter watched, lips pursed in a faux-concerned manner as the Berserker focused its attention on Argent, taking the hunter and slamming him against the wall several times. Peter walked over to Loki, examining her critically.

"Well," he said to her prone, unconscious body in a conversational manner. "I wish I didn't have to do this to you, but I can't have you waking up and helping Argent out of here with a little werewolf strength." Peter knelt beside the teenage girl and gripped her neck, holding it a few inches off the ground. Then, with sudden viciousness, he slammed it into the ground several times in quick succession.

Argent gasped as he watched the Peter assault the younger werewolf. Blood quickly bloomed out of Loki's head, probably from several different open injuries. Peter clicked his tongue, examining his handiwork.

"Yes, that will probably do it," he murmured, standing. He turned to Argent, meeting the man's glare with a self-satisfied smirk.

"Why…" Argent whispered. "She wouldn't have done anything." Peter rolled his eyes, sneering.

"I know. Loki's a coward – she wouldn't have had the stomach to kill me, even with motivation." Peter brandished the rebar in his hands at Argent, stepping forward. "But…she would have helped you when she woke up. The wounds are severe enough that they won't heal for a little while after she regains consciousness, and the pain will keep her from concentrating enough to shift, even just for strength." Peter's eyes were half-closed as both he and Argent stared at the teenage girl on the ground. He'd clearly thought everything through. A dark puddle of blood was pooling around her head like a sanguinary halo.

"That is," Peter added, turning back towards Argent, a sadistic smirk plastered on his face. "If she regains consciousness."

When Loki came to, she was still sprawled across the ground, and her head hurt like a bitch. Her hair was sticky with blood. She groaned, carefully touching her head and wincing at how swollen it felt. That, plus the fact that it hadn't healed yet, and the fact that the room was spinning around her as she maneuvered into a sitting position, alerted her to how severe the wound, or wounds, were. She doubted she'd still be alive if she were human. Blinking a couple times to try to adjust her eyes, Loki looked around. Her eyes popped open when she saw Argent.

At first glance the hunter appeared to just be leaning against the wall. Then Loki noticed the tang in the air, and saw the blood coating his lips and hands – and noticed the puddle of it at his feet. Looking for the source of his injury, she stifled a gasp when she realized how he was injured. Someone – either Peter or the Berserker, or possibly Kate – had taken a piece of rebar and had driven it through Argent's stomach and into the wall, and then bent it sideways so that he couldn't move.

"Argent," Loki gasped, pushing herself up. She lurched forward, stomach turning as the room swirled around her. She gagged, pressing a hand over her mouth and fighting against the pain. The hunter gave no response to her call of his name, and for a terrible second, Loki thought he was dead. She forced herself to focus despite the throbbing in her head, and noticed with relief the rise and fall of his chest.

Loki took another wobbly step forward, and this time her legs gave out beneath her. Before she could fall again, someone grabbed her and pulled her back to her feet.

"Loki," Jordan said, a note of panic in his voice as he stared from her to Argent. He helped her over to the wall, and she placed her hands against the stone, steadying herself.

"They're gone," she whispered, using one hand to cradle her aching head. She pointed to the human across from her. "Help – help me help him." Jordan nodded, walking over to the hunter. Loki walked behind him as quickly as possible, but the ground slanted beneath her feet and made it difficult to walk quickly. When they reached him, Argent's eyes slid open.

"How long have you been like this?" Jordan asked the hunter.

"I don't know," Argent murmured. "Might have…might've blacked out a few times." His words were slurred with exhaustion and agony, and his eye kept slipping shut.

"Peter Hale did this?" Jordan asked. Loki nodded, and then grimaced when the movement hurt.

"Were you following him?" Argent asked. Jordan nodded.

"Every day since Meredith Walker."

"Listen to me," the hunter said, suddenly motivated. "Kate's going after Scott. Peter and Kate. You've got to warn them." Jordan shook his head, eyes narrowed with confusion and panic.

"I can't. There's no service down here."

"Then just go," he insisted. Jordan shook his head.

"If I leave now, you'll be dead by the time I get back." Argent didn't reply, but he let his eyes drift shut. Jordan's own eyes narrowed with determination. "We're getting you out of here."

Loki wrapped her hands around the bar pulling as hard as she could. It wasn't budging, and all of her movement just seemed to make Argent's pain worse. His screams certainly made Loki's head ring with pain.

Grunting, Loki let go, stumbling back. Jordan steadied her again.

"I'm sorry," she gasped out, to Argent. "I'm sorry. I don't…what's wrong with me?" Loki muttered, struggling to stand up straight.

"The pain is keeping you human," Argent told her, voice hoarse. "Peter did it on purpose." Loki closed her eyes, fiery anger burning in her stomach. The hunter shook his head. "Just go…leave."

"No," Loki and Jordan said at the same time. Argent raised his head at them, and the deputy continued.

"I know you're hurt and tired. But you need to help us. If – if all three of us work together, we can get you out of here." Argent shook his head.

"I've got nothing," he whispered. "I've got nothing left." His words held a heartbreaking double meaning. "Just go."

"No way," Loki said, opening her eyes completely. "Not without you." She set her jaw stubbornly, and forced herself to stand up straight. She stared at the hunter in front of her, momentarily ignoring the aching pain and the blood dripping in her eyes. "You need adrenaline," she said, suddenly, looking from Jordan to the Argent.

"There's two ways to get it," Jordan agreed, picking up on Loki's train of thought. "Fear, and anger. Since you don't look like a guy who's afraid of anything, you need to get angry. You need to get so angry, that your brain lets loose every bit of adrenaline that it has." Argent shook his head.

"I'm too tired to be angry," he murmured. Loki squeezed her eyes shut.

"Okay," she said, mostly to herself. She took a deep breath. "Listen to me, let me tell you something." Argent forced his head up and looked at the young werewolf in front of him. Her eyes were suddenly dark and cold, like two pieces of icy flint. "Allison is dead," Loki whispered, her voice suddenly malicious and callous. "And you know what? It's my fault. You want to blame someone for your daughter's death? Blame. Me." Loki used every ounce of persuasion she had.

"You saved my friends from a hunter," Loki continued, her voice hardly over a whisper. "And how did I repay you? I didn't go to help my friends – your daughter. She died that night. And what happened the night after that? Aiden should have died, but I saved him." Loki leaned forward, locking eyes with the hunter in front of her. He was staring at her, and Loki could tell that it was working. His eyes were more alert now, and cold with a familiar emotion. As Loki spoke, focusing on something else besides her own pain, she could feel the agony in her head ebbing. She, too, was starting to heal. "Allison could still be alive today. I didn't save your daughter," Loki whispered, her eyes empty of emotion. But I'm going to save you.

Jordan stared at Loki in utter shock. He knew that Loki was convincing, that she could lie well, but he'd never seen such an obvious display of it before. The Loki he knew was not this angry, this malicious, or this cold. But the way she slipped into the persona that easily...

Loki grabbed on to the rebar, and she felt Jordan's arms around her, also gripping the bent metal. Argent wrapped his own hands around the bar as well. As the bar bent back, Loki realized something was different this time. Even with all three of them, the bar shouldn't be moving back this fast.

Tilting her head back, Loki locked eyes with Jordan. Instead of their usual pale green, his eyes were glowing a vibrant orange.

The SUVs pulled up at la Iglesia, and Loki poked her head out the window, heart pumping. She couldn't see any of her friends, but she did see Kate. The hunters jumped out of the cars, calling to each other in Spanish as gunshots rang out. Ignoring Jordan's call, Loki began to run towards the church, but something caught her attention. The smell of blood.

Turning, Loki jumped over a low stonewall and ran to the figure who was propped against it. Derek. She knelt next to him, eyes wide as she stared at the wound on his stomach. He was bleeding out...which was odd, because he was a werewolf. He should heal from the wound. Loki couldn't smell any wolfsbane or other kind of infection in the wound.

"You're not healing," she realized, eyes wide. She remembered distantly that Scott had mentioned something about Derek changing after he'd been de-aged, but she only now knew the full effects of it. He rolled his eyes at her, somehow still managing to look sarcastic in his last few moments.

Loki took Derek's hand, squeezing it comfortingly. He gripped back, his hands icy cold already.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "For everything." Derek nodded, his eyes flickering closed. A soft thump made Loki's eyes fly open, and she turned to see Braeden. Relaxing, Loki turned back to the other werewolf, and Braeden knelt on his other side.

"Derek," she whispered. His eyes opened again, and he turned towards his girlfriend. He smiled at her briefly, his eyes soft. His head fell back and his eyes closed for the last time. "Derek?" Braeden asked again, blinking rapidly as her face crumpled. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she cradled Derek's head gently.

Loki rocked back on her heels, still holding Derek's hand in a vice grip, even as his grip on her had obviously slackened. She shook her head, still dazed even as, after a few moments of quiet mourning, Braeden managed to stand and move slightly away from Derek to fire at the Berserker. Loki could sense Braeden's unadulterated rage as she shot at the creature, but even that didn't motivate the werewolf didn't move from Derek's side.

Because – something didn't seem right. Derek didn't seem – dead. Even though he wasn't moving, and he wasn't breathing, and his heart wasn't beating…and then, just as Loki was convincing herself that Derek was indeed dead, she heard a quiet, slow thump.

His heart was beating. Very, very slowly. But even as Loki listened, it began to pick up again, get faster.

"Braeden," Loki whispered, as she watched Derek. The mercenary didn't hear her. Derek's eyes opened, and his head shot up, eyes glowing blue. He bent forward, with a gasp, transforming right before Loki's eyes.

A howl split the air as Derek's body shrunk and changed into that of a fully transformed, fully evolved werewolf. Loki stepped back, and Derek launched himself over the wall, loping towards Kate.

Braeden whipped around, looking back towards where Derek's body had lain moments before. The only person there now was Loki, eyes wide with shock and relief. She could hear a wolf growling and Kate yelling in pain and surprise. Loki stood up, eyes bright as she watched Derek shift back to human effortlessly.

"You were…you were dead," Kate whispered in disbelief. Derek smiled.

"No," he replied. "I was evolving. Something you'll never do." The Berserker lunged towards Derek, and this time Loki reacted. She sprang forward from behind the wall, grabbing the Berserker's skull between her hands, and she squeezed. Golden light bloomed out between her fingers as the body of the creature dissolved into dust, leaving only the skull in Loki's hands.

Kate scrambled away, desperate to save her own life. Before she got far, a shot rang out, clipping her in the shoulder. Kate fell to her knees, turning to see the face of her attacker. Of all people, it was her own older brother. Argent stared at his sister, eyes hard with remorse and resolve.

"Chris," she whispered, disbelieving. There was a charged moment of silence where no one made any move, despite the fact that Kate was defenseless and injured on the ground. After a moment, she regained her composure just enough to shove herself to her feet and run away.

Loki ran too – into the church.

By the time Loki reached her friends, they'd already won the fight. Scott had been saved from the Berserker's armor, and then he'd defeated Peter. In order to keep him docile for the trip back, Argent volunteered the wolfsbane he'd brought for his sister.

"There's enough to keep him out for the trip back," he told them as the sun rose over the church. Loki was standing next to Scott and Kira, their other friends just behind the trio. "But be careful." Scott didn't respond to this, instead focusing his gaze beyond Argent, on the other hunters.

"You're really going with them?" Scott asked.

"I made a deal with the Calaveras weeks ago," Argent told them calmly. "They'll leave you alone – all of you. But only if I help them catch Kate."

"What if you can't?" Kira asked. He smiled gently at the Kitsune, looking slightly wistful.

"I'll find her," he said, reassuringly. "Someone has to." He turned to leave, but before he could go far, Loki stepped forward, calling after him.

"Chris – " she called. "I don't think I've ever told you this," Loki began, nervously. "But I am sorry for – not only what I said two nights ago, but also for not being there. For not being there to save her." Argent smiled at her gently.

"Just because it made me angry to hear you say it, doesn't mean I blame you," he told her. Loki blinked in surprise. "'The past cannot be changed, forgotten, edited, or erased. It can only be accepted,'" he quoted. Loki smiled, recognizing the proverb. Argent hesitated, and then reached out, offering Loki his hand. She shook it.

"Good luck," she told him. He nodded, smiling again, and then he turned to leave for real. Jordan walked over to Loki, wrapping an arm around her waist. He seemed nervous, probably due to the fact that there were other people around, but he didn't pull away.

"Guessing you don't want me to mention that to my dad," Stiles muttered in Loki's ear, loud enough for the deputy to hear him and stiffen. Loki punched the teenager on the chest, hard enough to make him cough as he rubbed his sternum.

"Don't you dare," she threatened good-naturedly, as all of them turned to watch the hunters and Derek and Braeden drive away in opposite directions.

"Jordan," Loki said, leaning against his desk. "Can I talk to you?" He looked up at her, widening his eyes in mock-concern.

"Don't like the sound of that," he teased, and she shoved his shoulder, laughing. She dug into her bag and pulled out a hardback book.

"Lydia gave me this," she told him, turning it over in her hands. "It used to be a hard drive, apparently, but they decided it would be a good idea to have a hard copy." She handed it to him, and he put it on his desk, adjusting the lamp so it shone directly onto the blank cover.

"What is it?" He asked.

"It's called a bestiary," she said, opening it with a smile. The page it opened on was one about kanimas. "Whatever you are," Loki told him, lowering her voice. "It might be in here." Jordan's eyebrows creased, and Loki smiled. She glanced around, and then leaned in to kiss him quickly. "I'd like to help you figure it out," she told him, voice quiet. Jordan smiled back.

"I can live with that."

A few months later, the bell rang on the last day of junior year. Most kids sped out of the building, eager to start their summer vacation and leave school behind. But Loki took her time walking through the building. When she finally reached the parking lot, most of her friends had gone – except for Scott. He was sitting on his dirt bike, right next to Loki's motorcycle, fiddling with his helmet in his lap.

"Hey," Loki said, leaning over. She smiled slightly, but it dropped off her face when she noticed his expressions "Uh-oh. Is something wrong?"

"You're leaving," Scott responded, eyes squinted with concern. "You're leaving too?" Loki knew he was thinking of Kira too, who was going back to New York for the summer. Loki smiled at the Alpha gently.

"Scott, it's summer break," she reminded him. His expression cleared and relaxed.

"So you're coming back, then?" He prompted, wanting to hear her say it out loud. Loki smiled, sat down on her bike and picked up her helmet. Scott leaned toward her, eyes persistent. "Loki."

"I'm not sure yet," she admitted, looking up. "I need – I need to get some things done. I think I can get them done by the beginning of next school year, but if not…" she trailed off, letting Scott fill in the blanks. The Alpha scowled.

"Are you going to London?" He asked. "To see the twins?" Loki shook her head, a flicker of regret crossing her face.

"I wish," she said. "But that's not on the agenda – that's something I want to do, not something I need to do." Scott nodded again.

"Will you let me know, at least?" He asked, voice small. "If you don't come back?" Loki's lips turned up and she nodded.

"Of course," she whispered. She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Scott wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly, and she returned the embrace. Scott's hand rose to her hair, and he stroked it gently. After a moment, she pulled away, clearing her throat. "I need to go see Jordan," she added. "Before I leave." Scott nodded.

"Good-bye," he said. Loki turned and smiled at him one last time before flipping down the visor of her helmet.

"Good luck, Scott."

In a cell at Eichen House, on the secret level made specifically for supernaturals, a teenage girl hung, suspended by three chains. One went around each wrist, and a third around her forehead, like a crown. The chains were locked at the ceiling, but also at the ground. They held her up just enough so that her toes brushed the ground.

Each manacle was studded along the outside with screws that had been drilled through the thick cuffs so that the pointy ends of the screws surrounded the inside of the cuffs, were the wrist goes. The shackle around the head was the same.

Someone had drilled the screws into the skin and bone of the girl's wrists and head. No matter which way she moved, the chain on the ceiling or the chain on the floor would tighten and provide further pressure to the screws embedded into her body. Blood oozed out of each puncture wound. It was darker than red – an odd blackish color.

Just outside the thick glass wall of the cell, another girl passed by. Her hair was wet and tangled, and she was dressed in a robe and loose gray clothes – the standard outfit of an Eichen patient. Lydia Martin looked a little worse for wear – her eyes were vacant and staring, and her skin was deathly pale. She didn't look to the girl in the cell, or any of the other occupants in the cells around, but the girl in the cell looked out at the Banshee with great interest.

She had just enough of her mind left to recognize Lydia, but she couldn't make herself call out. The other teenager struggled to lift head high enough to watch the Banshee pass, wincing as the change of position caused greater pressure on the manacles, and fresh blood ran down her face. She hissed in pain, struggling against her bonds to get another look at the other girl as she blinked blood out of her eyes.

"Hey!" Cross, one of the nurses escorting Lydia paused to bang on the glass of the cell. "Don't make me come in there," she warned. In response, the girl in the cell fell limp again, bowing her head. "That's better."

Time passed. The girl had no idea how much time – minutes, hours, even days – but suddenly a scream pierced her sensitive ears. Wincing, she moved instinctively to press her hands over her ears, only to let out a shriek of her own as the screws dug further into her skin. She felt one of the screws hit a bone, causing a familiar, dull ache to radiate down her wrist all the way to her elbow.

To the girl's surprise, Lydia was suddenly in her view again. This was odd, she usually only saw Lydia on the way to and from the showers, twice a day. But here she was again.

The Banshee seemed to be running from something, but as she passed the girl's cell, she slowed down. Lydia paused, pressing a hand against the glass of the cell. Her eyes were still distant, but not as empty as they'd been before. The girl in the cell shook her head, wincing as the pull of the nails caused her head to ring in pain.

"Go. Just – go," she hissed. Lydia backed away, blinking, and then turned to run again. She let her head bow forward again slightly so the floor chain and the ceiling chain were both slightly slackened. She closed her eyes, listening for Lydia's every move. She could hear the Banshee screaming again and again as she fought off her assailants.

Lydia screamed again, but this time it was different. A short, cut-off cry of pain. The girl's eyes flew open, and she strained against the chains, gasping in pain again as more blood ran down her wrists and forehead, matting her hair close to her skull. Another shout of pain, a crackle of electricity…the girl knew what they were doing to Lydia. She closed her eyes to listen harder.

"Please, I have to tell them." She could hear Lydia beg. "They're all going to die…my friends. They're all going to die."

The werewolf in the cell opened her eyes, and the glowed blue. Throwing her head back despite the pain of the manacles, Loki howled, answering the desperate call of her pack mate.

this chapter is really rough i'm sorry

anyways, that's season 4 (an a lil bit of season 5 :))

please leave a review! i love getting any and all feedback.