Q knew the precise moment Bond died and it was like a shard of his soul had been frozen. He felt the darkness of the phoenix rise, felt it screech in indignation, and he knew his partner would revive without a problem, but right now he was out of the game.

It was up to Reese to finish this, unless the other pack got there first. Q had done what needed to be done, had informed the White pack that they had found Kara Stanton, who was the killer. They would try to take her down and keep her alive to face justice, but they were at least fifteen minutes away.

Fifteen minutes were a long time to be facing a werewolf, let alone one as insane as Stanton.

"Bond is down," he told White evenly.

What he got was an angry growl. The alpha was already running at top speed, his pack with him.

"Q."

He briefly closed his eyes when Fin-ch addressed him.

"He's a phoenix, Mr. Finch," was all he said, sounding almost carelessly dismissive.

Which he wasn't.

James' death wasn't a casual occurrence. He knew it would take strength and energy for his partner to come back, and the phoenix always wanted its pound of flesh..

"The bite…" Finch said softly.

"Doesn't matter."

There was silence.

Those bitten usually only had an infection, maybe a fever and a few days of feeling unwell. They didn't turn. If someone who was bitten by a werewolf actually turned into one it was because they were preternaturals who accepted the infection and took the last step.

It was rare.

It was almost unheard of and the only preternatural Q could think of as maybe turning into a werewolf was actually a hellhound.

Not a phoenix.

Bond would be fine; the moment he came back from being dead, that was.

"If you are certain," Finch finally said.

"I am."

Q continued to listen in to what was happening between Stanton and Reese, and he was sure so did Finch. Mostly to Reese's side of the confrontation, something Q was hearing crystal clear through the comm. lines. And it was an eye-opener.

x X XX xx X XX xxx xx X XX

"He set us up, John!" Stanton spat, gesturing at the alpha with bloodied fingers. "Us! His own pack!"

Reese glanced at the man who had been his alpha once. Then his eyes flitted to the still form of Bond. There was no sign of life. Blood had pooled under him.

"He was our alpha! We trusted him! I trusted him!"

Her claws were out, her form still dominantly werewolf and less human. The long canines glinted and Reese had felt a sliver of alarm when she had licked her lips, tasting Bond's blood. Werewolves were predators, but they didn't hunt humans and killed them for food. Those were wild stories and stemmed out of the Dark Ages. Like all creatures they would fight to stay alive, and feral ones, those mad with illness or pain, would attack a threat, but they weren't mindless killing machines.

"Alphas don't kill their own pack, Kara," Reese said calmly.

"Then why did he order us to kill one another?" she challenged, eyes gleaming yellow with fury. "I was told you had been compromised. I shot you! And you had the same orders!"

He was silent. It was the truth and he had wondered so much in the past two years, the lines of truth and lies blurring.

"It was Corwin," Stanton went on. "She controlled the pack. She controlled him. He had rolled on his back for her! For a human! The bitch had him collared and leashed and he betrayed us in the worst way!"

Her fury strengthened.

"And she told him to kill his own second and another pack member! He betrayed us! He betrayed me, John!"

Reese nodded slowly. His own death he could have understood. He had never been true pack, no matter what Kara had told him. But to kill a beta of her rank? That had been beyond impossible.

Packs didn't kill their own members like that. Especially not when ordered by an outsider. Corwin might have been their handler, but she hadn't been pack.

"You killed your own," he reminded her calmly.

"They let it happen!" she screamed. "They knew and they let it happen, John!"

"Are you sure they did?"

She sneered, but she didn't answer.

"And now you kill Snow and then what? Become a lone wolf?"

"I've been alone ever since Ordos! Do you know how long it took me to pull myself together? Months! The bullet wound was minor compared to the second and third degree burns and the never-ending pain of nerve cells reviving one by one! But I survived!"

::I believe something didn't survive, Mr. Reese:: Finch said softly, sounding shaken. ::Such a long healing process after a traumatic event, a near-death, and the knowledge it had been an ordered hit by her own pack's alpha, must have flipped a switch in her. She might be physically healed, but her mind never recovered::

"You know it won't end here," Reese said evenly.

She laughed and it sounded almost broken. "It will never end. Betrayal never ends. They sent us there to die, John. To die!"

"And we survived. We came back."

He had survived, yes, but he had only come back and learned to live when Finch had found him. Like a werewolf, Reese needed company, he needed something to do, he needed to be… needed, useful, part of something. Finch had made it happen. He had become his handler, then his friend, and finally almost pack, despite the fact that a) Finch wasn't even a supernatural creature and b) two people didn't make a pack.

Oh, and Reese wasn't a werewolf.

But he had meaning again, a job to do, people to help and protect. He had guidance in his life, even if it wasn't from an alpha werewolf.

"It. Will. Never. End!" she screamed.

Reese stared at her, shocked in a way he had never felt before. He didn't show it, aside from maybe a shifting expression in his eyes, his mask firmly in place, but Kara's words tore into him.

"Where will you stop?" he asked, voice still soft and low.

She could hear him perfectly. Like him she had perfect hearing. It was one reason why his voice was always a little lower, a little softer. The pack had never needed raised voices.

"I'll stop when everyone involved in my murder is dead!"

He frowned. "How can you know how deep it went?"

Her smile was terrible. "A little torture goes a long way."

Insane. She had gone over the edge. It was clear now.

"You can't take on the whole CIA and win, Kara."

"Watch me!" was the furious snarl. "Corwin is already dead. As is the pack. But there are more! And they were into something else, too, John. They used us, they sent us on a wild goose chase, they got involved in matters beyond what we were running, and then they simply wanted to erase our existences! Ordos was way more than it seemed! We were conveniently led there to be part of a cleansing operation that had already been set into motion."

She angrily gestured at Snow.

"He knew about what they had planned with us. And the bitch Corwin had her sticky fingers in a lot more." Her smile grew terrible. "I had a chat with her supervisor. Mr. Denton Weeks was very cooperative when we finally set aside our different opinions about what he could tell me and what not."

He frowned mildly, aware what she was telling him between the lines. Either Weeks was very dead or would be dead from his wounds soon.

"You know that secrets birth secrets. It's our life."

"And our death, too? Because Corwin said so? Why us, John? Did you ever wonder?"

"No."

And he hadn't. Operatives were declared rogue or risks sometimes. Maybe because of something he had witnessed without realizing what it was. Maybe because he had been made on a previous assignment. Maybe because he had outlived his usefulness.

Kara suddenly stiffened, her features twisting further.

"A pack… You brought… a pack?"

"You brought them. They are hunting you."

Her skin was darker, her face a terrifying visage of wolf and human, with a snout and fur and pointed ears. Her fingers were longer, ending in sharp talon-like claws. Her feet had torn apart her shoes and part of her jeans. She was now barely human, simply humanoid, and her body went through the final shifts just as White and his pack stormed the building.

Kara roared a challenge that echoed in the cavernous building.

Reese blended in with the shadows, though he had no doubt about the pack's ability to scent him, or even see him, but right now they were busy trying to control Stanton, though that proved to be impossible.

"Kara Stanton," White called, gun drawn and still looking very human. "I give you one chance."

She roared again.

The alpha's eyes started to glow and his pack was moving around her, cutting her off, trying to cage her in. Some had already shifted, others were still mostly human in appearance.

"She won't go down without a fight," Reese whispered, certain that White and every other werewolf could hear him. "This is her last stand."

And it was.

The fight was vicious, bloody, and Reese knew there was only one outcome.

"Mr. Reese," Finch said softly in his ear. "I believe it is time for you to leave."

He knew it was. Stanton screeched in pain and fury, already a bloody mess and still fighting. She was taking chunks out of the pack, but she was going down.

Slowly.

Bite by bite.

Knocking out two of the pack, injuring two more gravely. She was a ferocious fighter, burning with the need for vengeance, way past sanity, and drawing on everything she had been taught, everything she was.

Reese knew she would have one day made a perfect alpha.

Now it was the alpha who finally ended it, tearing her throat out and leaving the body in a pool of blood and dust. Werewolves were hard to kill, but this would do it. And if the CIA handled it by the book, and they would, her body would be burned to ash.

The hellhound inside him didn't even whimper. He felt no loyalty towards her any more, despite their shared past, despite what else they might have shared. She had betrayed him and the pack. His loyalty was solely to Harold Finch and Reese took his new assignment very seriously.

Kara had been insane; a threat. A lethal weapon without a safety anymore.

John looked at his former handler, a former colleague, someone he had respected. He had never been true pack, but she had also never called him an outsider. Still, she had been his mark and he had done what his kind did: protect and kill.

Maybe they had been sent to Ordos to die. Maybe it had been fate that they had both come out alive. But it had been pure luck that he had found a new life, a new sanity, a new purpose. Kara Stanton had held on to her vengeance and rage, her need for revenge.

It had killed her in the end.

With a last look at the bloody, torn body, Reese walked over to the motionless MI6 agent. He didn't need to check for a pulse.

There was none.

The torn out throat and the incredibly large blood stain spoke lengths.

"Q," he said softly, aware that Bond's partner was listening in. "He is dead."

There was a noise that sounded almost like a put-upon sigh. "Yes, he has a tendency to do that."

Reese raised an eyebrow. "He has a tendency?" he quoted.

"It would be best if we could get 007 somewhere he can recover."

"You want me to bring him back to the hotel, Q?"

"No need to be snippy, Mr. Reese," was the haughty reply and Reese chuckled.

Yes, he liked the guy.

"I could recommend a place," Finch commented.

White approached and Reese tensed. Tom White was as tall as him, muscular, maybe a few years younger, but his eyes looked older than what his passport told. Werewolves grew up fast. Their nature, the pack dynamics, the whole ranking, had them slide into a family at an early age, taking on responsibilities according to rank.

This man was an alpha, a leader, someone who had a whole pack in this building and who worked for the CIA. He probably knew who Reese was and if he didn't, he would soon.

Green eyes, flecked with the remnants of the wolf that had taken down Kara, looked at him. Appraising. Judging. Taking in his danger level.

Werewolves aged the same as any other human being. They weren't particularly long-living, though they could get older than the average human. Or they died young; mostly violently. At least those working for any kind of agency.

"Never saw you," the alpha broke the silence.

Reese raised an eyebrow, unable to contain his surprise.

The werewolf smiled. "We'll take care of this, Reese. I don't know what happened to you back then, but I know what you're doing now."

"Mr. Reese," Finch said, sounding shaky.

He ignored him.

"What about Snow?"

White glanced at the barely conscious man. Two of his pack were doing their best to help, but he would need an ambulance. That had already been called and was on its way.

"What about him?"

Reese nodded. "Thank you, Agent White."

He smiled humorlessly. "You found the pack killer, Reese. We should thank you. As for Bond…"

"That's complicated," Reese said softly.

"He's dead. Nothing complicated about it."

"It is. Because he isn't." John gave the stunned looking alpha a quick smile.

White glanced at the body, then looked back at Reese. "He's not one of us."

"Just like I never was."

"But he's more like us than others?" The alpha smirked knowingly.

"Yes."

"Well, get him out of here then. I'll handle the rest." White held out his hand. Reese shook it. "I'd be proud to call you one of mine, Reese. As it is, I'm glad you're alive."

The preternatural inside him rumbled, drawn between pride and disgust. He would never be a werewolf and he would never truly belong to a pack, but to be offered from an alpha…

He had a job, though. He had a partner, someone he would protect with his life, someone he trusted, someone who trusted him. Reese was loyal to Finch and he wouldn't be swayed from his side for whatever reason. Not even if the CIA cleared his file, offered him back his old life, would he change a single thing about what he was doing right now.

Harold Finch was who he protected. That was his new life. It was what he had chosen for himself.

White tilted his head, nostrils flaring, and there was a slight glow to his eyes. A smile crossed his lips.

"I see."

Reese frowned, tensing a little. Yes, werewolves had an enhanced sense of smell. He did, too, though he had never been as good as some of the pack. He had trained with them, but since he wasn't a werewolf, things had been a bit more complicated in that regard.

"You have chosen your new life. One closer to your nature. Good luck, Reese."

And then he walked back to where his team was busy wrapping up the last loose ends before the police arrived.

Reese just stood there, slightly stunned, then tore himself out of his stupor. He picked up Bond's body and carried him to the car he had used to get here. He dumped the dead man in his trunk.

"Finch," he said softly as he snapped the lid shut.

"I'm here, Mr. Reese. I'm calling in a favor. Q has informed me of Mr. Bond's needs."

That was all he needed to know.

The car drove away with its currently dead cargo, heading for the address Finch gave him.

tbc...