Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize. Lyrics belong to Lana Del Rey.

A/N: Dear lord, I almost cried about five different times last night! Oh my God, it was intense. Also, just in case it hasn't been clear, I'm working with each new episode that comes out. This means a few things. One, there will be spoilers. If you haven't watched the latest episode, you probably shouldn't read my latest update – for your own safety. Two, there will be times I have to smooth over a canon mistake I made or have to edit previous chapters. I'll let you know if something in a previous chapter is changed. For example, this opening scene was something I had to smooth over and sometimes I'm self-conscious about things that aren't as smooth as I would prefer them. If you catch things like that – please tell me.

I made the choice to split this update up between two chapters because so much was going on. There will be a new chapter again sometime this week – might be posted as late as Saturday. I've recently become addicted to True Blood and am plowing through the seasons, but I have designated time set aside Friday afternoon to write.

As per usual, thank you all so much for the continued support! You guys are great!

Big Ugly Lofts

By: Ginny

I've seen the world, lit it up

As my stage now

Channeling angels in the new age now

Hot summer days, rock 'n' roll

The way you play for me at your show

And all the ways I got to know

Your pretty face and electric soul

Paige was slowly growing accustomed to living with Peter. Sure, the man was neurotically clean, but that didn't mean he was particularly organized. And his couch was definitely not meant for comfort.

Waking up two days after moving in, Paige groaned as she stretched. "Your couch is shit," she told him.

He just hummed in the back of his throat like he often did when he didn't want to bother actually speaking to her. But after a moment, he snarked back, "Your haircut is shit."

Paige had decided that a good break up should include an emotional hair transformation and between job hunting the day before, she had cut her light brunette hair into a shorter bob. Peter had instantly told her that she looked like a maladjusted pageboy from the Middle Ages and Paige had told him where he could stick his pageboy.

In response, Paige just stumbled off the couch and into the kitchen. "Eggs?" she asked over her shoulder as an afterthought.

"Pancakes would be better," Peter suggested.

"Then cook them yourself," she shot back.

She was just removing the carton when her cellphone started jingling in the other room. "Who is it?" she asked Peter, knowing he had snooped and caught sight of the caller ID.

"Vernon?" he answered. "Who's Vernon?"

"You know him as Boyd," she told him, swooping back into the living room and snatching her phone before Peter could actually answer it. "Hey," she said into the receiver.

"Hey," Boyd's cautious voice answered back. He didn't say anything else for a beat.

"What's up?" Paige finally pressured.

"I..." he trailed off and then began again. "I've been home for awhile," he said. "Been out of that goddamned vault for the first time in forever and I've just... been thinking. A lot. About a lot of things." Once again he stopped abruptly.

"What kinds of things?" Paige asked. There was a movement in the corner of her eye and she turned to find that Peter was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, listening to every word they said. She crinkled her nose at him, hoping he would take the hint. Instead, he shrugged and smirked.

"I've been thinking about the time in the vault," he explained. "What I can remember about it anyways. And I've been thinking about the alpha's killing Erica and I've been thinking about what you said." In the corner of her vision, Paige watched as Peter raised an eyebrow. "You were right... It was our choice to walk off like that and by separating ourselves from the pack, we put ourselves in danger. There is strength in numbers and we were... we were too scared to see that. It wasn't your fault that Erica died - or Derek's. It was my fault." Paige opened her mouth to try to tell him that that wasn't what she had meant but Peter made a "shut up" gesture. "It was my fault and I want to fix it. I need to fix it."

Before Paige could even open her mouth, Peter was across the room, snatching the phone from her hand. "Hey Boyd, it's Derek's uncle Peter," he said. Paige tried to grab the phone back, but Peter dodged. "If you want back in the game, I was going to head over to Derek's tonight and discuss strategy. You in?"

"Yeah, I just need the address," Paige heard him say from out the receiver, across the room.

Peter gave him the address, wished him a good afternoon and then hung up. Swaggering over to Paige, he handed her back her phone.

"What the fuck was that?" she asked, grabbing the device and cradling it against her chest.

"He wants back in and Derek needs all the help he can get," Peter shrugged. He was about to head into the kitchen before he stopped and said, "And no, you aren't coming with tonight."

"I wasn't going to ask to," Paige snapped back.

"Good," Peter breathed over his shoulder as he entered the kitchen. "Want some pancakes?"

Paige didn't answer - just headed straight for the shower. But when she left the steaming bathroom, fully dressed and ready for her second day of job-hunting, she found Peter was gone but had left her a big plate of pancakes. She eat them all, but convinced herself she didn't like them one bit and that it was rather presumptuous of him to make her food he didn't know if she would actually eat.

"Are you employed yet?" was the first thing out of Peter's mouth when Paige got back later than day. He was slouched in his loveseat, reading some old book. He hadn't even lifted his head when she came in.

"Yes," Paige threw her purse down and plopped onto the couch.

"Shoes!" Peter barked at her, gesturing wildly to her feet.

With a groan, Paige yanked off her flip-flops and tossed them towards the door. "I'll be working at Patty's. You know, the Irish restaurant a few miles from here," she told him.

"Hostess or waitress?"

"Waitress - the lady was very impressed by my balancing skills," she joked.

"Yeah, manual labor jobs are what werewolves are good at," he shot back.

He didn't say anything else for a good long while, so Paige finally asked, "How was the meeting? Anything decided?"

"Boyd and Cora are tracking the alpha twins from school to home as we speak," Peter told her, flipping a page in his book.

This made her sit up straighter. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"The alpha pack is dangerous," Peter finally looked up at her. "We are all in danger - you said it yourself."

"I wish people would stop listening to me," she muttered to herself.

"Anyways," he continued. "Once we know their location, we are going to have an even bigger meeting later tonight." Before Paige could respond, he reminded her, "And no, you are still not invited."

"Fine," she shrugged and stood up. "I'm making dinner."

She was just straining the pasta when Peter's phone went off. He took his time marking his page and putting his book down before retrieving the phone.

"Peter," a voice asked through the receiver.

Paige nearly dropped the pan. She knew that voice. She loved that voice, even now. And she hated that voice a little bit.

The older beta seemed to notice her reaction. He shot her an apologetic look but answered, "Yeah, Derek?"

"Boyd and Cora found them, I'm calling Scott, we will meet in an hour - we're going to go after them," Derek spoke concisely.

Instantly, Paige tried to take a step forward and say - something, anything. She really didn't know what would have come out of her mouth because instead, Peter rushed out, "Sounds good," and hung up. Peter watched her while she watched the phone in his hand. Finally, he told her, "He thinks you're safe in Chicago. I've managed to keep your smell off of me every time I've seen him. He doesn't know you're here and if he did know... Paige, going after these alphas is - "

She cut him off. "A suicide mission," she snapped.

"But it will be less suicidal for him if he thinks you're safe - you'll be a distraction," he explained. "He'll be so worried about keeping you safe that he wouldn't be able to focus on saving his own life. You have to get that."

Slowly, she shook her head. "He doesn't care anymore. He doesn't love me and maybe he never did. I won't be a distraction."

After having calmed down and separated herself from the situation, she had come to realize that something truly wasn't right about what had happened - but it didn't matter what his motives had been. Isaac was right - no excuses. Even if he had wanted her safe, (assuming those had been his real motivations) he hadn't even told her what was going on, hadn't trusted her to make her own choice. He had used some of her greatest fears against her and that was unforgivable. You didn't hurt the people you love, even to help them. She knew that much.

Peter just shook his head. "Believe what you want," he said. "You aren't going." He glanced towards the strained and cooling pasta. "Now, what's for dinner?"

Even the next day, the conversation still wasn't over.

"Paige, be reasonable," he nearly begged.

"Attack Deucalion while he's alone? Cut the head off the hydra?" Paige's voice had hit up in pitch at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Peter had finally revealed what they had discussed at the meeting after being pestered for hours by the younger beta. "And he honestly believes this will work?"

"I believe this will work," he shot back.

"You don't believe in anything," she scoffed. "You only believe in saving your own skin and this tactic is most likely not to result in your death. Maybe one of the younger betas, but not yours. You have too much experience and if the plan doesn't work - if this dude is stronger than you all think he is, than there will be enough chaos for you to slip out unnoticed."

"Ouch," he teased, grabbing at his chest in mock injury. "One major flaw in that theory though: if I wanted to just save my own skin, I'd let you come with. One more young beta to use as a shield and you're nearly as morally upright as Scott. Now see, that kid, he wants to save everybody and in a pinch, I know he'd even try to save me. You're not as uptight as him and you can barely stand my guts, but you certainly wouldn't like the idea of me dying either. You would come to my rescue, if I really needed it. But, selflessly, I will continue to insist you stay here and put myself in more risk than necessary."

Paige scowled at him.

"Did you learn that from your mate?" Peter quipped.

Instantly, her face fell. "I don't have a mate," she grit out.

"You will always have a mate," he lectured her. "Whether you want to or now. And that's another thing," Peter pointed one perfectly clipped fingernail at her. "If something were to go wrong and Derek were to die, you will be the next alpha. It's like, with the State of the Union Address, how there is always one person in the line of succession for presidency who is not invited, so if someone bombs the place, the country will still have a leader. This pack will still need a leader."

At first she didn't say anything, before admitting, "If he dies, I want to be there. If I can stop it - I, I should be there. If I can."

"You won't be able to stop it," Peter sighed, exasperated. "No one can stop an alpha pack. Not a little beta like you." Paige didn't say anything - but her eyes were growing warmer and she knew she'd start crying if she thought about any of this for any longer. "This isn't about Derek - you staying here is about Boyd, and Isaac, and Scott, and Cora, and even me. We are the ones you need to think about. You got that?"

She nodded and they didn't argue about it again.

When Peter got the call, later that evening, Paige almost put up another fight. With quick sentences, Peter explained that he and Derek had been convinced Scott would try to contact the alpha leader on his own - they were right, it seems. Derek had followed the boy and all hands were needed on deck. They were going after the alpha pack leader.

Paige took her left hand and dug her nails hard into her right forearm to remind herself that she was needed here.

Before he walked out the door, Peter sniffed the air gingerly. Catching a scent, he turned to Paige and crossed the room once more to gently pry her claws out of her arm. "Silly beta," he scolded, but she didn't smile.

And then he was out the door.

To her credit, Paige did stay in that apartment for some time. She waited patiently on the couch but slowly her back began to hurt again and she forced her body into a standing position. Then she began to pace. Then, she decided that Peter had told her not to follow him - not to come to the battle. Fine then, she would go to where she knew they would take the injured.

She had hoped to keep Derek in the dark for a while longer - about her staying in Beacon Hills, but that wouldn't matter if he was dead.

And besides, she wasn't doing this for Derek. He had hurt her, deeply. No matter what he meant, no matter if he had been telling the truth or had been trying to protect her. She didn't want him dead by any means, but she wasn't going to check up on Derek, she told herself. She was going to check up on her friends and her fellow packmates.

Armed with her combat boots, skinny jeans and tank top, she took off into the night, headed for the place she had once called home. She had never been faster on her feet and when she arrived, it was empty.

Gingerly, she wandered around the main area, slipped into the kitchen, checked in on the spare room that had once been Isaacs and was now, apparently, Cora's. It still smelled like home to her.

Minutes after wandering back into the center area, she felt a twist in her gut. There wasn't any pain, just... indecision. Anger. Why was Derek so confused and frustrated? She forced herself to sit back down as another wave of what she now identified as fear swam over her body. All she wanted to do was roll into a ball and shut her eyes. Resting on the couch in a fetal position for a few moments longer, she tried grasping at exact emotions but everything was a mess and then it all settled down.

Her heart still raced though, and she forced herself to her feet. She needed water.

But her legs only took her so far before a weightlessness lifted her chest up. She felt... airborne. But not like she was flying... like she was falling. Before she knew what was happening, her body collapsed and an ear-splitting scream that wasn't hers rang out in the empty loft. Everything - everything hurt, from straight up her back, to straight down her legs and as she stayed there, she felt the spreading warmth of phantom blood sliding down her arms and chest. Time passed slowly, each chime of the clock on their bedside table was five times slower than it's normal speed.

With each chime, each second, Paige moved another part of her body. Everything hurt but something... something was wrong with her eyes. Each time she blinked, it was like her vision had shifted, but even when she was transformed, her vision was never this good. It blinked in and out and made her dizzy as she got to her knees.

Her eyes, she needed to see her eyes.

Something was wrong with them.

Crawling, she made her way to full-length mirror she had insisted they buy from an estate sale early in the summer. Her hands grasped the worn metal and she pushed herself up a bit more. It seemed, if it was difficult to move her body, moving her head was even more difficult. But somehow she lifted it up and caught sight of her face. Her hair was tangled, sticking up wildly, sticking to her face. Her usually slightly tanned skin had grown extremely pale under the stress of... whatever was happening. But most importantly...

Her eyes were blinking red.

They bled from yellow to indistinct blue-grey, then back to yellow, and all over again. But each time they shifted to her usual yellow, they would blink a deep red, an alpha red. On, off, yellow, bluish, yellow, red, yellow, red, yellow. And each time they blinked red, it was like all the worlds hidden secrets were open to her - that was how clear she could see.

Finally, they stayed red.

Paige watched the deep ridges of this new color glow and grow and just as it began to completely swallow her, the color bled right out of her eyes and the energy keeping her awake bled right out of her body.

She didn't know how long she lay there before the loft door swung open. Footsteps pounded in, waking her up, and Paige wondered for a moment if those were the footfalls of the alphas, here to ransack her home.

"Paige?"

Peter's hands were slick with blood as he rolled her over, propped her up, and checked for injuries. As Paige's own eyes catalogued her body, she realized that the only blood that was on her was whatever blood had been on Peter's hands. She was uninjured.

"Derek's dead," Paige told Peter. She couldn't say how she knew that, but she did. And the look Peter gave her only confirmed that fact. He knelt down farther and tried to leverage her up a bit more. Paige shook him off.

"I'm fine," she told him, weakly. And she was. Whatever had happened to her was over with. She felt perfectly normal. Except for the gaping hole in her chest that was only expanding as she began to admit to herself that her mate, her lover, her alpha was dead.

"Then help us," Cora snapped. Paige glanced behind Peter to find Cora holding Boyd up, but barely. Both of them were filled with claw marks and bruises. She pushed passed Peter and grabbed Boyd's other arm.

"Peter, there are cots in that room," she pointed to the spare room. "Bring out two."

As he did that, she steadied Boyd and kept a close eye on the girl. There was a huge foot-shaped bruise on her neck and she seemed to be swaying without any breeze to move her.

"Where is Scott?" Paige asked when Peter returned. "Is he... also...?" She couldn't say the word out loud again and maybe she thought if the word didn't leave her mouth, then it really hadn't actually happened. If she didn't say the word "dead" again, then she could believe no one had died tonight.

"No, no," Peter assured her as he set up the first cot. "He and Isaac headed straight back to Scott's house."

"Isaac was there?" Paige frowned. Derek had sent Isaac away and yet he had come back. If... maybe if Paige had also ignored Derek's wishes and Peter's wishes, he would still be... he wouldn't be...

"He came with Scott," Peter said, softly.

Peter seemed to be the most uninjured, which didn't surprise Paige. Either his experience gave him an edge over the bitten betas, or he had stayed out of most of the fighting, as was his way. But, despite lacking too many physical injuries, he was the one who seemed the most hurt. It was in the way he held himself, his body bent forward and his face littered with wrinkles Paige hadn't noticed this morning. And his eyes... they were hopeless. Derek's... what had happened that night must have truly hurt Peter.

The older man caught her observing him. Briefly, they just shared a look and then he nodded to her. She nodded back - nothing else was said. And then she got back to work. Gently, Paige settled her packmate onto the cot and clawed his shirt off to give his wounds some time to breathe. Peter turned his attention to Cora.

"Lie down, Cora," Peter was telling her. But the girl only sat.

"I'm fine," she tried to tell her uncle.

"You got the life choked out of you," Peter snapped back. "Lie. Down."

"Listen, uncle," she grit out. "I know what I'm doing. I'm fine."

"Your wounds are still bleeding," Paige observed. "He's right, you should rest."

"I've done enough resting!" Cora shouted, gripping the cot so hard her claws punched through the thick fabric. "I'm fine!"

Paige glanced at Peter, who was rolling his eyes. She looked to Boyd who was grimacing against the pain probably radiating through his body. This was so unhelpful. They were all wounded. The alphas could come after them at any minute now, knowing there were weakened. Exterminate them all.

What would Derek do? she thought to herself.

Her brain spun around and around, reliving everything she had ever seen of that man - his mannerisms, his thought-process. His attitude. His strength. Everything she had ever admired and envied about him. What would his response to this whole cluster-fuck be?

Rising to her feet, she stalked around the cots and grabbing Cora by the shoulders, forced her completely down.

"You are very weak and we are very vulnerable right now," Paige explained sharply. "You need to rest - that is what you need to do right now in order to help this pack. Rest, get stronger, make the pack less vulnerable to the alphas. Do it, now."

Cora didn't say anything for a moment, staring up at her in shock. And then a looked passed over her face and she struggled against Paige's hold. But her grip remained true. Finally Cora asked, "Who are you to tell me what to do?"

Paige couldn't answer - not that she had an answer because she wasn't very sure who she was right now, either. Widow? Grieving girl? Vengeful bitch? Maybe all of the above. But she didn't have to know - Peter knew and instead, he answered for her.

"She's your alpha," Peter said simply.

The loft was silent. Paige has forgotten that. The line of succession would fall to her, now.

"That true?" Boyd asked from his cot.

She took a deep breath and finally answered, "Yes. I'm the alpha."

Dear lord, when I get to heaven

Please let me bring my man

When he comes tell me that you'll let him in

Father tell me if you can

Oh that grace, oh that body

Oh that face makes me wanna party

He's my sun, he makes me shine like diamonds