The bullet blew through Gregory's head and dropped him to the floor dead, immediately. Stiles had to force himself to not rush and check on Derek. Instead he spun quickly and slammed into the kitchen. In between fighting down bouts of nausea and vomiting, he began scrubbing the oil and blood from his hands. He ignored the bloody wounds and concentrated on getting rid of what was keeping him from his mate. Everything else could wait. He stripped what was left of his clothes off, except his boxers, and then scrubbed down both hands and arms, lathering up with Dawn dish soap, in hopes of cutting through the wolfsbane.

Finally satisfied he wouldn't hurt Derek more, Stiles slipped back into the living room. Lydia was sitting up, looking furiously at Gregory's corpse, one hand holding onto her head, where a bump was forming. There was blood spray on the wall, and seeing it nearly made Stiles throw up, before he clamped down on his feelings again.

"Peter, what's the neighbor situation? Is someone going to call complaining about the shooting?" Stiles asked, moving towards Derek.

"I haven't heard any unusual activity, and we don't really have that many neighbors right now. The couple across the hall both work nights."

Stiles nodded and moved towards where both Isaac and his dad were, next to Derek. He had smashed through a table and into the wall when Gregory had thrown him. Coupled with the previous damage, Derek was still healing. Stiles slid down next to him and pulled him gently out of the wreckage around him. He started going over Derek's body, checking him out carefully. There was once again blood in his hair from where he'd been slammed into the wall by Gregory, along with a few other scrapes and bruises that were already healing. There was also a chunk of wood along one side of his abdomen that came from the table he'd slammed into. The sheriff had been concerned about that, and winced when Stiles quickly jerked it out, allowing werewolf healing to take care of the rest. Once the wound closed up, Stiles helped Derek to his feet, and pulled him into a hug.

Derek's nose flared and he growled a little at the claw marks down Stiles' arm and side. "Shhh, it's okay. Look, they're not healing, and once things are cleaned up, I'll get them all washed out." He ran a hand along Derek's hair and shoulders calming him before turning to the rest of the pack. "Lydia, you okay?"

"Just a bump on the head. Nothing a Tylenol and maybe a werewolf fur coat wouldn't fix, anyone know how to make this asshole shift so I can have someone skin him?"

"As you know, my dear, certain types of wolfsbane have different effects, there is one we use for burial that does revert the corpse to a wolf. I'm afraid unless you lined the coat with it, however, it wouldn't stay shifted." Peter answered, eyes avoiding Derek, Stiles and Scott, who all winced.

Lydia gave Peter a look that was frankly scary. "I'll keep that tip in mind. I'm sure Stiles can provide me with something suitable, should the need actually arise." The look she was giving him said she was sizing him up Cruella De Ville style, before continuing. "However, a dead wolf would be a better alternative to a dead human, at the moment, right?"

Stiles' Dad looked up for the first time, as if realizing this may actually become his problem. "The bodies at the station..." He said, eyes on the body in the room.

Peter shifted away from Lydia and turned to the Sheriff. "I'm fairly sure the supplies from Deaton had the appropriate wolfsbane in it. That would help us deal with this." He pointed towards the corpse. "I think we'll need to go back to the station, and deal with the remains there as well. Plus there are several Betas who won't shift into wolf form, despite the wolfsbane. At least three of the kills will need to be disposed of in a more appropriate manner."

"My knives need removed." Stiles said from the other side of the room where he was holding Derek. "We are all tired and miserable, but without Gregory there to call the shots, I don't know how much the survivors will cover up. Plus, Gregory had a mate. He was abusing her and using her, so I don't know how tight the bond was. We need to check on her, and there are at least two Alphas left; Those twins who left the fight. Plus, I don't remember seeing the one I marked."

Peter moved towards the bag Lydia had brought inside before being knocked out by Gregory. He pulled out a green lidded jar, and first cleaned his claws before passing it on to Scott and Isaac. He then pulled out a jar of pale purple powder and passed it to the Sheriff. "Just a sprinkle should do it; Too much will cause the rest of us to turn as well, before causing us other problems."

He gently shook some of the powder over the corpse, jumping back as it began shifting suddenly. He didn't take his eyes off the now lupine body as he spoke. "We need something to wrap him in, so we can get him out of here, and someone needs to clean this whole area with bleach. He may be a wolf now, but I'd be willing to bet that blood on the wall still shows up as human. Scott, you and Isaac start looking for supplies. We need garbage bags, bleach, some rags and if anyone has any ideas on where to take the wolves once we get them all..."

Scott spoke up then. "Dr. Deaton's. We can take them there, and have them cremated. Obviously only the Alphas, but it would keep them from doing anything like..." Scott stopped and completely avoided looking at Peter.

Stiles threw something out, despite the nasty taste it left in his mouth. "What about Chris Argent? We clean your prints off the guns, get my knives and check on, Muriel, that was Gregory's mate. We tell the other wolves to get the Hell out of town, and then see if Chris has any ideas on how to cover it up. They must have some kind of system, they've been doing it for years. Just take Gregory back there, and let Chris sort it out. The Argents owe this pack... owe us."

Peter shared Stiles' obvious distaste for the idea of letting the Argent's clean it up, but they also knew it was probably for the best.

The first order of business was getting the injured wolves taken care of. Stiles got Derek cleaned up and into his own bed, while Isaac and Scott helped get Boyd and Erica settled in Isaac's bed. Once the three of them were someplace safe, they concentrated on clean up.

They wrapped up the wolf corpse, and between Scott, Jackson, and Isaac they managed to get it into the sheriff's car. Once that was done, Danny and Lydia began cleaning up the spray and spills of blood, the scent of bleach permeating the air. Everyone else left for the Tran station. Once there, they removed anything that spoke to their presence, with the exception of the dead bodies. The sheriff quickly broke the rings of mountain ash Lydia had placed on the exits, leaving the one in the tunnel.

Stiles spoke, loud, but without yelling, from the middle of the station. "Soon the hunters will come, and cleanup this mess. Anyone who's still alive needs to get their asses out of Hale Territory, tonight." There was no verbal response, but Stiles was almost positive he could hear the remaining rats scurrying away.

Peter was the one who found Muriel. He led Stiles towards a whimpering sound. She was further back in the rooms Gregory had claimed for his own. There was a rather luxurious bed taking up most of the room. The idea of how it even fit through the door would drive Stiles mad in the days to come, but just then his eyes found the pile of blankets that formed a sort of nest in the corner. Muriel was there, still half naked, wrapped around a pair of tiny bodies. The babies couldn't be more than a year old, and they were both crying, curled up against their mother.

Stiles tried talking to her, but she didn't seem to understand, and she replied back in a language he couldn't understand. Thankfully, Peter seemed to be fluent in whatever she was speaking. He spoke back in a calm and quiet voice. Stiles just stood there trying to look reassuring while Peter coaxed her, and the babies, up and out of the pile of blankets. Peter grabbed a shirt from the bed and handed it towards Muriel. That made both Muriel and Stiles growl at him, before he dropped it, eyes wide in Stiles direction. Stiles started pulling on Peter's own shirt, and he took it off, handing it to Muriel instead. She quickly put the shirt on, tucking the babies tightly against herself once she was done.

Stiles looked around for anything resembling baby supplies, but found practically nothing. Peter noticed him looking and made what sounded like an inquiry to her. He frowned, verging towards angry the longer she spoke. "You won't find any baby things, Stiles. The babies weren't Gregory's. He couldn't kill them, because he had allowed her to be used by the other wolves, but he wouldn't let her take time from him to get them the things they need, beyond diapers, and the time to feed them."

Stiles felt like killing Gregory all over again. "Tell her she's coming with us. I killed Gregory and until she decides what to do, she's staying with us. We'll make sure they're all taken care of."

Peter smiled, a real and true smile, and turned to speak to Muriel again. The longer he spoke the less afraid she looked, finally giving him a slow shy almost smile. After a few moments, she pointed Peter towards a small side table. He pulled out a few folders and a small bag from the drawer. He tucked the items in his jacket and turned to escort Muriel and the babies out. When they left Gregory's rooms, Stiles pulled the shirt Scott and the shirt Isaac were wearing off of them, without a word to either, and passed them to Peter. He wrapped a baby in each, before passing them back to Muriel.

Once they were finished cleaning things up and were ready to leave the station, Stiles pulled out his cellphone and started dialing. He took great satisfaction in the fact that it was almost three in the morning when a gravelly voice answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Chris." He said, jauntily.

"Stiles? What's wrong?" He actually sounded concerned, which took a little of the fun out of foisting this onto his lap.

"Well, all the important people are still alive, but I needed to ask you a question about dead werewolf disposal. Do you hunters have like someone who handles clean-up? Because I have a fairly decent bundle of furry corpses that need recycled."

Chris sounded fully awake now, as he answered. "We have certain protocols in place, and we try to have certain people in the know. Particularly in law enforcement..."

"If that's your slick way of letting me know my dad knows, he was part of the raid on the Alpha pack tonight. They're mostly dead, and the ones who survived have been run out of town. The old Tran station near where you and Derek were Kanima hunting is full of wolfy corpses; a few of them literal wolves. I'd just burn the place down and be done with it, but it's very marble chic in there."

"I know a few people who can handle that sort of clean up. Did you clear out anything too obvious, aside from the corpses that is?" He asked, fully awake and all business. "I trust them, but I don't want to have to trust them far enough to cover up anything that obviously points to any of your people."

"Weapons are all accounted for. There may be some glass and a line or two of mountain ash still down, but aside from a bit of blood, and possibly the blown up remains of a leather jacket, I think we cleared it all out."

"Good. Can we count on police discretion when it comes to the area?"

Stiles grimaced. Even with his dad in the know, he didn't want to have to bring his job into things. "The area is fairly empty, especially this early in the morning. Aside from that, there is a distinct shortage of deputies, thanks to Matt. Dad doesn't really have the numbers he needs to keep a viable patrol presence right now. If anything comes up, call me and we'll arrange something, but barring your people doing a conga line down the block with the corpses, I can't see anyone stirring up a fuss."

"I'll be sure to have them curb any urges to dance."

Stiles could hear the smirk in Chris's voice. "Trust me, there's been more than enough dancing tonight. I'd like to take your assistance tonight as the first step in a truce between the Argents and the Hales. In the spirit of our truce, there are a few things you should know. Gregory Vilkata is dead. His mate and her pups are under the Hale Pack's protection. Also, thanks to Vilkata, there is another wolf in our pack. Vilkata bit one of our people. He's under age and we will be taking care of him."

"Vilkata's dead? Jesus, Stiles, he has a bounty on his hide in five countries. If anyone but a wolf had taken him out..."

"It wasn't a wolf."

"Your father..." Chris started, sounding worried.

"I'm beginning to think you underestimate me, Mr. Argent. I took Gregory out. He took something of mine and I took it back. You'll find his carcass along with most of the Alpha pack, when your friends clean up the mess."

"Stiles, Vilkata wasn't a bitten wolf. The Vilkata's are a huge pack in Eastern Europe. They may come for his mate and children. They may also come for his killer."

"Our fight was fair, Hell I let him live once and he came back for more, and according to his mate, the pups aren't his, but if they want to come after us... well what happens will happen." Stiles finished grimly. "Thank you for the assistance and for the information. I need to go, it's been a really frickin' long day, and still miles to go before I sleep and all that jazz."

"I'll let you know when the clean up is complete, Stiles, and you're welcome."

Stiles hung up and climbed into the Camaro, truly exhausted, and dozed off before they had traveled a block. When he woke up, they were once again at Derek's apartment. His dad led him to the elevator and into the apartment itself. The adrenaline of the night had worn off leaving him barely coherent as the claw marks on his arms and side were cleaned and bandaged, and he was dressed in a slightly too large t-shirt and sweat pants. The next thing he remembered for sure was being helped into Derek's bed, the two of them curling around each other and falling asleep. He didn't wake up again for almost twelve hours.

It was nearly four in the afternoon when he woke up to a nearly perfect reverse of the last time he woke up with Derek. His face was against Derek's neck, licking over the new skin where his mark had been before Gregory had ordered it removed. Derek was barely awake, his arms wrapped around Stiles.

"We, uh, have things we need to talk about." Stiles said pulling back. He started checking Derek over for injuries before sitting up in the bed.

"Did you changed your mind, about us, I mean?" Derek asked, looking anywhere, except at Stiles.

"If you still want me, I definitely want you, Derek, but I let you get taken by those... by the Alphas. Does that like, disqualify me as a mate?"

"They got the jump on both of us, Stiles, but, and correct me if I'm wrong here, you organized and executed the take down of an entire pack of Alphas. Those you didn't beat straight out, ran. You also trapped, humiliated, and then killed the Alpha's Alpha. Gregory was a wolf strong enough to command a pack full of Alphas, and you utterly destroyed him." Derek was finally looking at Stiles, and Stiles was finding it hard to breath.

"I, uh, also might have made a couple calls on the part of this pack, that you especially should know about. I sort of initiated a truce with the Argents. It isn't official or anything, but I informed Chris Argent about certain things and pretty much foisted clean up off onto him."

Derek immediately shifted away from him. His head and shoulders hunched, and his whole body language changed. "Derek? I know it isn't my place to speak for the pack, but we really did need the help and I don't like the guy, but he does follow the code. If we can keep him on board, it should help us keep everyone safe, in the long run. I'm sorry I didn't talk to you first, but it just seemed like it needed to be done."

"Did he get a good laugh out of it, at least?" Derek asked bitterly.

Stiles was more than a little confused. "What in all of this is funny? The fact that Danny is a wolf? Or the fact that I might have brought the wrath of Gregory's pack down on my head? Or maybe that we have an abused woman and two baby werewolves to deal with because I murdered her mate? I get that Chris is an asshole, but seriously if he found ANY of that funny I'd have never even suggested a truce, no matter how much we needed help cleaning up the bodies."

Derek was now looking confused. "I meant about me being an Omega."

"First off, why would that be any of Chris Argent's business, and second what the fuck is wrong with you being an Omega? There's nothing funny about that."

"You didn't tell him?" Derek asked.

"I'll repeat it, 'Why would that be any of Chris Argent's business?' I mean the idiot thinks I'm an Omega. He actually warned my dad and everything. Clearly, he doesn't know Jack shit about how all this works, and it's no where near his concern either way."

"Wait... I thought the Alpha pack WAS Gregory's pack. What the Hell? And I know Danny is a wolf, but how is he one of mine? I can actually feel him in the pack and I know I didn't bite him. And BABIES?" Derek looked ready to hyperventilate.

Stiles was beginning to wonder if werewolves could have panic attacks. He quickly started explaining things, hoping to calm Derek down, "Apparently Gregory's last name was Vilkata. He was a born wolf from the Vilkata clan of Eastern Europe. He was abusing his mate, and offering her around to the others as a plaything. She has a set of twins, she says aren't his. I offered her our protection. I know I overstepped yet again, but Peter was there and seemed to agree with me. I know, not a ringing endorsement, but it's the right thing to do."

"She needed help, right?" Derek asked and waited until Stiles nodded. "Then it was the right thing to do, you didn't overstep. Now, Danny?"

"Gregory turned him, but Gregory was a bit of a fucking idiot. He wanted to rub my nose in things, so he let me 'visit' with Jackson and Danny, while Danny was still in the processes of turning. The, uh, mark I left on you? Gregory was the one who ordered it removed, and he had it boxed up and gave it to me. He thought he was going to break me, or torment me with it, and he did, but I turned the tables on him. I used the blood, yours and mine, to override his claim on Danny. I don't even know why I used my own, but it seemed right at the time. I rubbed it into the bite before it healed, and had Jackson help me replace Gregory's scent with ours. Surprise... it's a boy!"

"Your blood is probably the only reason it worked. My blood wasn't exactly kept on ice. Considering you were scent marked and pack, it gave the added boost needed to hijack Gregory's claim. The fact that you killed him, and the fact that your going to become my mate only served to strengthen our claim over Danny. Gregory tried to call him last night, didn't he?" Stiles nodded. "Danny stood with us instead, Hell he claimed you as his Alpha. I'm pretty sure we're stuck with him." Derek said with a grin.

"Which is a good thing because apparently, Danny is one of Jackson's mates. Lydia and Danny are... I guess co-mates?"

Derek thought about it for a minute and then nodded. "Sounds right to me." He got an odd look on his face. "Wait, Chris Argent warned your DAD that you were an Omega?"

"Oh yeah, apparently Dad now knows about werewolves, cause one of the stupid Alpha pack attacked him. Chris showed up to save the day, thank God. Apparently he used the opportunity to sell Dad werewolf ammo and guns, and to warn him about the dangers little old me faces as a human omega who runs around with the big bad wolves. Apparently you all just want to eat me up." Stiles leered at Derek, teasing.

He smirked at Stiles before growing serious again. "Your dad is okay with all this... with us?"

"He's apparently known for a couple days. That's what the whole 'freak Stiles out at the gas station' routine was about. Besides, he was right along with the pack when we took on the Alphas. Peter and Dad came in through the tunnels while Isaac and Scott came in through the street level."

"And how did you come in?" Derek asked, curious.

"I strolled right in the front door and demanded my right to fight for my mate. I think I amused Gregory, right up till the point where I, um, blew up your leather jacket and then stabbed him a couple times." Stiles said, sheepishly.

He wasn't quite prepared to be tackled. "I really should be pissed at you risking your life... and apparently my jacket, and I am, but I'm going to show you how pissed I am by licking you all over. Any objections?" Derek practically purred in his ear.

"None." Stiles said, shakily, as Derek began to nuzzle, lick and kiss him from his shoulders down.