Chaos Rising

Stiles watched anxiously as Derek and the pack rushed away, his gut twisted tightly. Derek heading off into battle without him felt so wrong. Who was going to make sure the idiot didn't get himself killed if Stiles wasn't there to drag his arse out of the fire? Nick? Stiles scoffed under his breath as a small flicker of jealousy ignited inside him, only for him to stomp that shit out. He had no reason to be jealous of Nick. Everything he knew about Nick and Derek's relationship, as well as Nick's previous visit to Beacon Hills, told Stiles that Derek was over the handsome werewolf.

No, his biggest and only concerned, was Derek getting himself killed before they could have sex.

"Stiles?" His dad whispered, fingers curling over his shoulder in a comforting squeeze. "He'll be fine."

Stiles huffed, shaking his head dismissively, "He better be." Stiles grunted, "Or I'll kill him."

John laughed, giving Stiles shoulder another affectionate squeeze, "So what now?"

Straightening his spine, Stiles turned, eyes scanning the room until he found Sandeman. The old werewolf was a few feet away talking to Lydia, Alec (was that Alec, or Ben? Fucking twins) and the dark hair woman, Max. They all looked intense, and the look on Lydia's face caused that knot in Stiles' gut to get tighter.

Stepping out from under his father's hand, Stiles marched over to the small group, "And what's going on here?" He demanded, looking at them all suspiciously. Max and Alec gave him a look, almost sympathetic, before nodding to her father and slipping away. He followed them with his eyes, as they headed over to the other X5, whispering to them.

Sandeman met his gaze, calm and distant, "We're just re-evaluating the situation." He replied matter-of-factly.

Stiles' eyes flickered to Lydia, who stood there looking stricken, before settling warily on Sandeman again. "Meaning?"

Sandeman inhaled deeply through his nose, "If they have Elena, it's only a matter of time before they release Stheno. It's a race against time now."

"But they don't have Lyd's, so…."

Sandeman looked at him with such disappointment that he almost recoiled from it. "Your friend is not the only banshee in the world, Stiles. The cult knows our plan, they recovered all the information they needed when they killed…." His angry tone broke and he looked regretfully at Lydia. "They have everything they need, all they needed was the vessel, and now they have her."

An icey shiver ran down his spine, "Right, yeah. - But Derek'll get her back." He said, with more certainty than he truly felt."

Sandeman sighed, frustrated, "Perhaps he will," He muttered, "But more likely they'll be the first to die."

"No. You don't know my pack. You don't know Derek." Stiles yelled furiously.

"You're right, I don't, but I know the Cult. I was raised by them. They've spent generations working towards this goal. You wouldn't be here today if it weren't for their determination to release Stheno."

"No, I'm here because of your determination to stop them." Stiles argued, heart hammering frantically in his chest, his hands shaking, "You can't just give up."

Sandeman held his gaze, features hard as stone, "I'm not giving up." He said loudly. "I have a back-up plan, but…" His voice lowered as his eyes moved over to Lydia, " it'll take sacrifice."

Stiles looked between them, a huge blackhole opening up in his stomach, "What are you going to do?"

There was a tense moment of silence, then Lydia met Stiles' gaze, tears pooling on her lashes. She blinked as they were let free, rolling down her cheeks. "What I have to do." She whispered.

Stiles' heart stopped and the world felt like it was crumbling around him. Suddenly there was a wave of fear and panic draping over him, suffocating the light and hope that they might actually get out of this alive and in one piece. He may not be in love with Lydia anymore, but he still loved her and the thought of losing her cut too deep, he felt like he was bleeding inwardly. He shook his head, "No. No fucking way." He didn't even know what the plan was, but the fact that Lydia was standing there, tears on her beautiful courageous face, said it wasn't a good safe plan. "You promised she'd be safe."

"And if everything had gone to plan, she would have been." Sandeman argued.

"Stiles…" Lydia stammered, reaching for him, "It's okay."

"Like hell it is." His dad growled furiously behind him. "I'm not letting you risk a young girl's life."

"You'd rather risk everyone else's?" Sandeman demanded furiously, "Everyone in the house?" He waved his hand, "In this town? In the world? Because that's exactly what you're doing if we don't do this, now. If they succeed, if they get to Stheno before us, she's going to kill billions, and those she doesn't kill, she'll enslave." Sandeman yelled frantically. "This is our only option."

The air seemed to crackle around them, seeming to grow thicker, as if a thunderstorm was brewing inside the house. And then a loud boom exploded in Stiles' ear. He turned, eyes wide and panicked to find Sandeman stood, body practically vibrating and eyes glowing red. He growled low in his throat, a warning, staring past Stiles.

Stiles turned, following his gaze and gasped as he saw his father, fully shifted, climbing out of the wall. Fuck. His dad's eyes blazed gold and his features were fully shifted. "Dad! Stop!" but he didn't hear him, the blind angry rage of a freshly turned werewolf blocking out all sense and reason.

Stiles had a momentary flash of deja'vu, only this time he wasn't on the receiving end of an out of control werewolf. "Scott!" He yelled, but it was unnecessary, his ex-best friend was there already, trying his hardest to step between John Stilinski and Sandeman. It was pointless however, as new to being a werewolf as John was, he easily sent Scott flying.

"John!" Stiles heard Melissa yell behind him.

"You're not hurting her." John growled, advancing on Sandeman, "You're not hurting any of them again."

Stiles frowned, heart frantically hammering against his ribs.

"Where's my gun?"

Gun? Fuck, Chris was going to shoot his dad. Like fuck, was he.

"Stiles,." Allison yelled. "Talk to him."

"Every wolf has an anchor, something that keeps them grounded and in control." Derek's voice echoed in his mind, taking him back to when the world was normal and safe. - relatively speaking anyway.

Stiles hurried forward, slipping into the decreasing space between his father and grandfather. He held up his hands as best he could with a cast on, "Dad. Dad, you need to stop. I know you hate this guy okay, I know you want to rip him to pieces, I get it, believe me I get it, this plan sucks, but you can't okay, because you'll never forgive yourself if you do." He swallowed, the panic growing as his dad continued to advance, eyes still glowing furiously. Cautiously, he reached out, wrapping his fingers around his dad's wrists the second he was in reach, and captured his gaze. "Dad," He softened his voice, "Please. I need you, don't leave me again." His voice broke on the words. It was a low blow, he knew. They'd promised never to talk about that night. A tear ran down Stiles' cheek as he tightened his grip on his father's wrist, the memory coming back to him.

The first anniversary of his mother's death, his father, overworked, overwhelmed, and drunk, taking one last look at him, and then walking out of the door. He didn't come back for two days.

Stiles' breath was coming harder, his lungs working overtime to keep up with the adrenaline and fear, and panic flooding his body, while he whispered repeatedly, "Don't leave, dad, please." tears rolling down his cheeks.

"S-Stiles?"

The gold faded from John's eyes and relief drowned Stiles instantly. He dropped to his knees, crying and shaking.

"Stiles. God, Stiles I'm…." John panted, pulling his son into his arms. "I'm sorry, son." He muttered into Stiles' neck, his own tears dampening his son's skin.

There was a long tense moment of silence, before the bubble finally burst and Stiles exhaled, "I'm sorry too, dad."

"For what?" John asked, drawing back to look into his son's eyes.

"I promised never to - to talk about…."

John's face crumpled with shame and he pulled him back into another hug, "You have nothing to apologise for. Not ever."

They knelt holding each other, until finally they pulled away, assessing the destruction, and the relief and sadness in everyone's face. Inhaling deeply, Stiles looked over his shoulder to where Sandeman was standing, looking surprisingly guilty. "Is there really no other way?"

Sandeman looked between father, son, Lydia, "I'm afraid not.,, and we're running out of time. Miss Martin?"

Lydia inhaled, straightening her spin and inclining her head. "I'm ready."

"Ready?" Natalie Martin said suddenly, from the stairs. "Ready for what? What's happening? Lydia?"

A fresh wave of tears rolled down Lydia's cheeks as she looked at her mother. "I love you mum." she said, voice breaking.

Natalie hurried down the stairs and over to her daughter, pulling her close, "What's going on?" She demanded, looking around at everyone. Her gaze finally fell on Sandeman, "Well?"

"Your daughter is going to save the world."

Natalie frowned, looking at him like he was insane, "What are you talking about?"

Sandeman looked around at the others, "Has she not been told?"

John got to his feet and made his way over, nodding, "Nat."

"Mum." Lydia sniffed, pulling out of her mother's hold. "I have to do this."

"Do what?"

"She needs to sacrifice herself to Stheno." Sandeman said gently, "It's our only option."

"Sacrifice?" Natalie looked at her daughter, panicked. "Don't be ridiculous, Lydia, come here, we're leaving." But Lydia didn't move, instead shaking her head and dragging her hand over her eyes, while moving closer to Sandeman. "I'm ready."

"Lydia." Natalie ordered sharply, "Lydia, we're leaving."

"Please, take her out of here." Lydia sniffled, looking away from her mother.

"No, I'm not leaving. Get your hands off me." She snapped furiously as John and Melissa began to drag her away, "Lydia! Lydia!"

Stiles hurried to Lydia's side, wrapping his arms around her, and she buried her face into his shoulder. He looked over at Sandeman, "She can't do this alone." He snapped.

"There's nothing anyone else can do." Sandeman pleaded guilty. "She needs to give herself over to Stheno." He looked over at the clock above the fireplace, "Assuming Elena hasn't already reached her. - We're out of time, I'm sorry. Lydia, we need to do this now."

With a final tight squeeze of Stiles' waist, she stepped out of his arms, "Tell Peter and Jackson, I'm sorry and I love them." meeting his eyes and leaning in to kiss him. "And I love you too, Stiles."

He couldn't help but scoff, "Couldn't have said that a year ago, could you." He sniffed and she smiled.

"Okay." She said shakily, "I'm ready."

Sandeman nodded, holding out his hand for her.

They tracked Joseph and the others to the high school. The parking lot was filled with trucks and tents, which was not unexpected. What was unexpected. What had surprised them was that half of Beacon Hills was there too.

"The school is the emergency assembly point." Boyd said quietly, "It makes sense that everyone would head here, especially when troops started rolling into town."

"Perfect for them." Peter scoffed, " They have a cover to be here, and a shield against any attack."

Derek watched the mass of bodies, the air heavy with the mixed scents of aggression and fear. He noted the shoulders. How a large contingent, heavily armed, kept their distance for the townsfolk. There was a large tent erected at the far end of the parking lot, two men stood guard. He straightened his hearing, but there was no sign of the familiar heartbeats.

"They've got to be inside the school." Nick whispered, "Right?"

Derek tore his gaze from the tent and looked at the large building, trying to pin down his friend's heartbeats, but there was too much activity, too many heartbreaks. "There's only one way to find out. We need to get inside."

"Inside?" Jackson frowned, "With the soldier who want us dead?" Derek shot the beta a hard look, "I was just checking we're on the same page." Jackson insisted, holding his hands up in appeasement.

"How are we going to get past them." Erica huffed, waving a hand at the mass of guards and humans.

"If only we had a tunnel." Peter snarked, receiving the same scolding glare his son just got.

"We could cut through the lacrosse field and then through the locker rooms." Boyd suggested.

"They'll have guards back there. These guys aren't idiots, they're going to know we'd try that." Nick said.

Boyd met the man's gaze, "Yes, but at least it'll just be these guys and we won't have to worry about our neighbours a) getting hurt in the crossfire, and b) thinking we're the bad guys and getting out the pitchforks."

"He's right." Derek said with a nod, "The back entrance is safest."

"That's what they all say." Erica snorted, elbowing Isaac while throwing a wink at Boyd.

Derek rolled his eyes, and moved carefully away from their position, not wanting to draw attention.

It's not easy getting around the perimeter of the school without being seen. There's a large expanse of land that isn't covered by the preserve, so they have to backtrack before switching direction. It takes up precious time but they don't have an option. Finally however, they're crouched along the treeline at the back of the school, staring across the lacrosse field. Much like the front of the school, there are tents and people everywhere, but unlike the front, there are no civilians, it's all just black uniforms.

There is the whir of generators, and multiple voices giving orders. It takes a few seconds for Derek to pin down a voice that isn't just random military nonsense.

"Everything is ready, we're just waiting for your arrival."

Derek looked at Nick, who looked both hopeful and curious. They couldn't hear a reply, which told them the person talking was on the phone.

"I thought the phone lines were out of commission." Isaac muttered, confused.

"Military have their own special phones, for just this situation." Peter informed flatly, his gaze flickering around the field, sketching out a plan of attack.

"They don't have the vessel, there's nothing they can do now." The man said, moving around inside the tent. There was a long gap then a sigh. When he spoke again, it was in a language Derek didn't recognise, and he frowned at the others, who all looked just as confused. - All but Nick, who was listening intently. He was about to ask if his ex understood what was being said, when an icy shiver ran down his spine and he turned to look into the dark woodland, eyes flickering between the trees. When he turned back, he met Peter's gaze.

There were both perks and drawbacks to having someone know you as well as Peter knew him. It meant his uncle could manipulate him, as well as knowing which buttons to press when he wanted to get a rise out of him. But it also meant that sometimes, words weren't needed.

When he turned back to Nick, he saw the man's features paling only slightly. Nick didn't even look at him, but he did speak. Voice so low, only werewolves would hear. "They have someone on the inside."

"Meaning?" He replied quietly.

"Inside your pack." Nick said, then turned to meet Derek's gaze, his lips in a thin angry line.

"Who?" Derek demanded.

Nick gave a little shake of his head, looking back across at the tents, "They didn't say. Just that when the time comes, they'll have help."

Behind Derek, Peter let out a low growl and Derek turned, capturing Peter's gaze, "Keep to the plan." He said under his breath, eyes flickering red briefly. He could see Peter's internal debate, and even shared it, but they had a mission. "You, Boyd and Erica, check to see if there's a way in." He waved his hand to their left.

Peter's jaw ticked breathily, before he inhaled and gave a shape nod. Derek watched as they shuffled away from the treeline, and headed off towards the far end of the field. With them gone, he looked back at the makeshift military camp and tried not to worry, while simultaneously trying to figure out who the traitor in their mist was.

Derek turned back to watch the tents while listening to Peter and the others moving through the woodland. Nothing much happened below them, their leader had turned the conversation to routine military stuff, having obviously ended his phone call.

They crouched in the dark, waiting for Peter.

"So," Nick said quietly, "That was him?"

"Uh" Derek frowned, eyes tracking the movement of the Manticore commander as she stepped out of the tent. She wasn't dressed in a uniform like the others, but rather a black trouser suit. The large searchlights caused her bleach blond pixie cut to almost glow in the dark.

"That was - Stiles?"

Derek's head snapped around, but Nick was looking directly ahead. "Yes." He replied harshly.

Nick met his gaze, brow raised. "He's a - I guess I was expecting someone a little more like…" He shrugged, "I don't know, different."

Derek gritted his teeth and turned away, "Meaning?"

Nick pressed his lips into a thin line, shrugging. "I - I don't know." He sighed, lowering his head to stare at the dirt below him. "Honestly, I think I'd built up this image in my head, and well - he doesn't even come close."

"You knew he was younger."

Nick nodded, "What could you possibly expect?"

"Someone like him." Nick jerked his chin towards Jackson, who looked back with a wrinkled nose and a look of horrified disgust that almost made both men laugh.

"I was never really into the typical jock type." Derek whispered, shrugging and turning his gaze back to the tents where the blonde woman was listening to a soldier, looking bored as hell.

"Thanks." Nick scoffed, voice a mix of hurt and amusement.

Derek glanced at him, brow raised, "You forget who you're talking to. You may be Mr GQ now, but I've seen your high school pictures." He smirked, lip curling.

Nick huffed out a quiet laugh and grinned, "Remind me to kill Clay once we've saved him."

Derek smiled, "I'll do that."

The sound of movement behind them had the pair looking over their shoulder. A few seconds later, two uniform clad figures stepped out between the trees, weapons in hand and faces partly covered. Nick reacted on instinct, shifting to prepare for a fight, but Derek stilled him with a hand, his pack's mate's scent filling the air.

Peter crouched down, tugging down the mask that covered his mouth and nose, revealing a smirk decorated with flecks of blood on his cheek and lip. "All clear."

Derek gave a nod, and looked back to the tents. "You and Erica," who was crouched behind Peter, also dressed in black, "go through the front. There's more chaos, so less chance of you being seen. Nick will go with you, blend in as best you can."

"What about you?" Nick asked.

"We'll keep searching for another way in."

"I have an idea on that?" Boyd put forward.

"Okay."

"Here, take this." Peter said, handing over a radio, "We changed the channels, so it should be save, especially if we keep our voices low. We'll message if we find anything."

Derek looked at the plastic, then back to Peter with a nod, "Be careful."

With that, Peter, Erica and Nick shuffled back and away, leaving Derek, Jackson, Isaac and Boyd alone. "Okay, what's this idea?"

The room was deathly silent. No one dared to so much as breathe as Lydia took her seat on the chair in the centre of the room. Her make up was smudged and her hands trembled where they rested on her lap. Despite her outward confidence, Stiles could see the fear in her eyes as they met his. He tried to send her a reassuring smile from his place on the stairs, but he failed. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and saw Allison moved closer to him, dropping down on the floor by the bannister, directly in Lydia's line of sight, offering her own support. Stiles was honestly surprised when he felt her grip his hand, giving it a squeeze, and he looked down, seeing his own fear mirrored back at him.

"Okay, just keep your focus." Sandeman whispered gently, "You've walked this road before, so you know what you're doing. - And we're closer to the Nemeton, so you should reach her quicker." Lydia swallowed thickly and gave a nod.

Moving behind her, Sandeman pressed his hand into her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Stiles watched, his stomach twisting when he saw the old werewolf flex his fingers. Every instinct in him wanted to leap up and pull Lydia away from it, but Sandeman's words chanted over and over in his head. "Everyone in the house. - In this town? In the world? she's going to kill billions." - As hard as it was, as painful as it was, he was resigned to the inevitable.

Stiles inhaled deeply, his fingers tightening around Allison's hand, as Sandeman raised his and plunged his claws deep into the back of Lydia's neck. She let out a blood curdling scream, causing the windows to shake and her hands to fly to cover everyone's ears.

Then she was silent, head lolling forward and Stiles let out a quiet broken noise.

Derek grunted as they pulled their way out of the garbage shoot into the kitchen, his nose wrinkling at the stench. Cautiously stepping away to allow the others to follow, he looked around, surprised at the emptiness of the place. With all the people seeking shelter at the school, he would have expected the place to be filled with people, but there was no one. - Well, almost no one. He turned, creeping carefully closer to the door. He could hear heartbeats on the other side of the doors. The sound was accompanied by the sound of footfalls moving back and forth, growing distant and then coming closer. There was however, a lack of that acidy scent that came with the X-series fighters. Human then. Excellent.

He turned back to Boyd, Jackson and Isaac. He didn't need to pass on the information, they already knew. Just as they knew exactly what needed to be done. They waited for the sound of the feet to become quieter, indicating they were moving away, and then Derek carefully opened the door. The fact that there were two guards meant they weren't going to be able to just sneak past, they had to take the pair out.

Slipping back inside, he motioned for the others to get ready. Jackson and Isaac moved over to the doors, fanning their palms out against the wood and listened to the movement beyond, while Derek and Boyd crouched low, ready to burst through the moment they were flung open.

They waited, silent, barely breathing as the guards turned and began to make their way back to the door.

Bang. Isaac and Jackson shoved violently at the doors, throwing them back into the guards. The two figures hadn't even touched the ground before Derek and Boyd were on them, delivering punches to their faces. When they finally did land, they were unconscious. Derek stood over a young man dressed in black, gun still clutched to his chest, and sighed.

"What do y'wanna do with 'em?" Boyd whispered.

"Freezer." Derek replied, heaving the young man over his shoulder with ease, while Boyd didn't the same.

Together they hurriedly carried back into the kitchen and over to the large industrial freezer. Derek yanked open the door and stepped inside, the scent of slowly rotting meat making his stomach churn unpleasantly. He dumped the man on the floor, then crouched down to strip him of his radio and weapons.

"Won't they die in here?" Isaac asked quietly from the door.

Derek looked around the room, then back down at the pair, then shrugged. Getting up, stepped out past Isaac. "They'll be fine." He replied, not sure how true that was, but he didn't much care, he had more important things to worry about. "Lets go." He said, heading for the door while Boyd closed up the freezer.

They used their enhanced senses to guide them through the corridors of Beacon Hills High. Their advantage of fighting in their own territory was knowing how to traverse the school without being seen. They all knew the shortest routes from A to B.

It took them ten minutes, but eventually, they were located by Jeremy and Clay, secured in a classroom on the top floor. This time, the guards weren't human.

The scent of silver filtered out from the room, and Derek glanced at his betas,. "Careful." He mouthed.

They burst into the room fast, slashing out at the guards. They were able to rip the weapons away from the guards with only one shot being fired, the bullet grazing Derek's shoulder. Unarmed, it came down to hand-to-hand combat. They did as best they could in such a small room, the months of training with Stiles before he was kidnapped, worked to their advantage, helping them anticipate their opponents. Until eventually they had four dead guards.

Not bothering to spare them a second glance, Derek turned to his friend, finding Jeremy, Clay and Logan tied to chairs. There was the strong scent of Wolfsbane coming from the ropes and Derek recoiled instinctively. Gritting his teeth, he bent over one of the fallen dead X-soldiers and grabbed the knife strapped to its leg. Then made his way over to Jeremy, Boyd and Isaac headed for Clay and Logan.

"Where's Nick?" Jeremy asked weakly.

"He's fine, he's with Peter, searching for Elena."Derek reassured through his greeted teeth as he cut at the ropes.

The sound of running feet echoed from the corridors, getting louder by the second.

Finally they fell away, and he hurriedly helped Jeremy to his feet, "Are you going to be okay to fight?" He asked in a rush.

Jeremy straightened, meeting Derek's gaze and tore at his shirt while rolling his head from side to side. He took a small step back and stretched out his body. The sound of cracking bones and hard grunts filled the room as Jeremy, Clay and Logan began to shift. Their clothes falling off their bodies in tatters.

"They can't fully shift?" Isaac gasped, looking from the three werewolves to Derek, "I thought that was just a - you thing? I mean, a Hale thing."

Derek's eyes widened with surprise. "So did I."

Jeremy looked up at him, his red eyes bright against the dark fur of his coat. He gave a little sort, which Derek thought meant he was being called an idiot. Before he could respond however, the door flew open and gunfire erupted around them.

The fight spilled out into the corridor, the sound of gunfire echoing off the concrete. They were outnumbered, he knew, but like hell was that going to stop them. He had to win this fight or he'd never see Stiles and Cora again, and like hell was that going to happen.

A loud roar reverberated off the walls and he glanced over to see a huge blue eyed werewolf bathed in moonlight. He narrowed his eyes, confused. It rushed at them, slashing and tearing through the X-soldiers.

The fight intensified, but eventually many of the X-soldiers began to retreat. Derek stood among the dead, chest heaving, and looked at the large unexpected werewolf. "Thanks."

The man nodded, before doubling over with a pained groan. Derek's eyes widened as the werewolf seemed to begin to tear in two.

Derek took an uncertain step back, then gasped as the large werewolf became two. The pair panting as they straightened. Derek stared at Ethan and Aiden, confused. "What the…."

Ethan shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "Our Emissary said it was because we're twins."

Derek nodded, dumbfounded. He was jerked out of his shock by an angry bark, and he looked over his shoulder to meet the irritated wolfy gaze of - Clay. Right, yeah, they had a mission. "Right, yeah, lets go." They turned, taking a far staircase.

Jeremy took the lead, his sense heightened further by his full shift. Derek wondered if perhaps he should shift too, but decided against it at the moment. It would leave him unable to communicate with his pack.

Turning down the final flight of stairs, they came to an immediate halt.

A/N: There should be only two more chapters (plus a possible epilogue)