Stiles rubbed at his eyes and closed his door firmly, locking it behind him. Thank God his dad had been so relieved to see him he hadn't tried to kill him. Stiles…not dying…would have been harder to explain. Jackson had driven him home before going to see his own parents and Stiles' father promised he'd be home soon. He went back over the story he'd given his father in his head. It was half decent. Certainly not the worst bullshit he'd ever sold. He went for a walk to clear his head after the hospital and wandered into the woods. After coming across a dead deer, no I don't know what killed it God, he'd been freaked out and ran. A while later…he had no idea where he was. He spent the night under a tree and slowly found his way back the next day.
"Not too bad Stilinski," he murmured to himself. Yanking off his much abused tie he tossed it on the end table before heading for the stairs. By the time he'd actually made it into his room all he wanted to do was curl up in bed. The door slid closed behind him and he froze carefully, immediately sensing Scott's presence. He smelled him before he heard him and heard him before he saw him. "What do you want?"
"What do I want?" Scott echoed quietly. His eyes flashed yellow. "I don't know. Maybe some sort of explanation! You could at least try!" He shoved himself out of Stiles' desk chair and stood his hands tense at his sides.
"He didn't deserve to die," Stiles said carefully.
"Bullshit! He's a murderer Stiles! Are you even thinking?"
"He didn't kill without reason." Stiles' hands clenched. He had to keep control of his temper. He had to stay calm. A growl ripped itself from Scott's throat.
"Are you insane? Literally crazy! You can't just…ugh!"
"What if it had been Allison? You wouldn't want revenge?"
"Exactly!" Scott yelled, "Allison! How am I going to be with her now?" He jumped across the room, not too fast for Stiles to see anymore, pinning him against the door. "I can't be with her like this!" Scott let out, each word more near a howl than anything else.
"Does the sun shine out of her ass now?" Stiles demanded, shoving Scott back and straightening his ruined shirt.

Scott paused, clearly trying to reassess the situation. His eyes ran the length of Stiles several times.
"What have you done?" he questioned, eyes returning to their normal color. Stiles didn't answer. Scott could put it together on his own for once in his life. "You didn't…you didn't… Peter Hale isn't dead is he?" Stiles shook his head very carefully. "You can't be serious. This can't be happening." Scott stumbled back slightly, both hands clutching at his head. He began mumbling to himself, nearly every other word was Allison.
"Do you ever shut up about her?" Stiles demanded, knowing he shouldn't push the situation but unable not to. "You can't give up every single thing in your life for one person!"
"Didn't you?" Scott questioned shrilly. Stiles sucked on his lip briefly, still struggling to stay calm.
"I didn't give up anything I hadn't already lost." Scott growled again, lunging for Stiles. His hands were around Stiles' neck, nails digging in, before Stiles had figured out the best way to prevent it. He stopped trying so hard to think. It happened…intricately. Not like Stiles thought it would. Not at all. The change seemed to originate somewhere in his chest. It flowed out until it covered his body like a blanket. Another split second and Stiles felt like he was living a video game. His vision was swamped in red and white, Scott's face closer and clearer than it had ever been. He gripped Scott's hands with his, ripping them off. He let lose a long growl of his own. Stiles managed a leg between them, kicking Scott back. The victory was short; Scott launched himself again, knocking Stiles back, through his door. Stiles tried to scramble up among the scraps and splinters of wood but Scott's body prevented it. Scott straddled his chest, one hand over his heart, the other pressing against his neck once again. Stiles bucked, trying anything to dislodge him. It didn't work. Scott was stronger. Stiles' mouth opened wide on a howl. He wasn't sure if it was rage or panic fueled. He needed help and he knew it. It was cut off suddenly by Scott's hand completely collapsing his wind pipe. Eyes widening, the wolf fading away, Stiles stared helplessly at his best friend, the animal trying to kill him. He pried at Scott's hand uselessly, unable to stop himself from trying. Even the panic filled adrenaline drenching his heart wasn't enough. Part of him, very small, was surprised that Scott wasn't letting up. He might really kill him. He closed his eyes and tried wriggling again. No use.

Scott was gone suddenly, yanked off; Stiles discovered when he opened his eyes. Derek loomed over him, imposingly tall. He held Scott aloft effortlessly, one hand on the back of his neck.
"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded, mouth full of teeth as he shook Scott rapidly.
"Get off me!" Scott yelled, legs kicking at the air. A violent growl sounded from the doorway. Peter was crouched there, eyes burning red.
"Get out," he growled, the words reverberating through the slim hallway. Stiles shivered, body writhing against the floor. Derek tossed Scott behind him, crouching down and growling as well. He jumped forward, knocking Peter into Stiles' room. The answering snaps and growls forced Stiles up. He found his feet and stumbled into his room. He concentrated, trying to bring the wolf back. Nothing happened. He had to do this. Peter needed him. He clenched his fists, remembering how it had happened the first time. What it had felt like. Still nothing. Derek shoved Peter into Stiles' computer desk and he vaguely wondered how he was going to explain this before trying to phase again. Peter arched up off the desk, stalking towards Derek. Derek eyed him warily, feet tracing a half circle in the floor as he avoided contact. "Leave while you can," Peter growled. Derek growled and ran forward. Peter caught him easily, one hand lifting him by the throat, the other yanking his arm down. The sick snapping was still clear even through Derek's yell of agony. "Stiles move," Peter ordered. Stiles ducked out of the way immediately. Peter threw Derek through the hole in the door, still watching him carefully. "I will not warn you again. You threaten my pack you threaten me." Peter cracked his neck and straightened the hem of his shirt, transitioning back to human easily, beautifully. "Take your sickly pup and go." Scott was already gone. Stiles could only hear three heartbeats. He barely contained his snort. Trust Scott to run now and leave Derek defenseless. He heard Derek struggle to his feet as Peter guided him to the bed, one hand warm on his elbow. "Are you alright?" he demanded softly.

Stiles nodded jerkily.
"I t-think so." Peter tilted his chin up, one hand steady on his shoulder, conducting his own examination. Stiles' skin hummed pleasantly under the touch and he let his eyes close.
"Things would have been so much simpler if I had just turned you in the first place," Peter mused. Stiles smiled, just a bit. There was a graze of a touch at his forehead before Peter sat beside him. "Things may become more difficult now," he offered. Stiles opened his eyes slowly and looked to his left, taking the man beside him in.
"What makes you say that?" he questioned dryly. There was a crash downstairs and Stiles tensed, half off the bed before Peter caught him, hands on his ribs.
"It's only Jackson." He was frozen. The words were heard and partly understood, but he was unable to act just yet. Jackson rushed into the room, skidding slightly. Drops of water flew off and landed in the rug with nearly silent splats of sound. His hair was damp, slicked oddly to his head. Surprisingly it took Stiles a moment to realize he wasn't wearing a shirt or shoes. In fact Stiles would hazard he wasn't wearing anything other than the low pale jeans clinging to his hips. Jackson panted shallowly as he surveyed the room several times.
"I was showering," he explained, cheeks flushing as his hands unclenched. "I may also have broken the front door," he added very softly. Peter tugged Stiles back onto the bed, fingertips stuttering over his ribs.
"What is this?" Stiles demanded, "A werewolf stop and go?" His nerves were starting to slip out of him, seemingly pulled by Peter's fingertips.
"It's alright Jackson," Peter murmured softly. "We have bigger problems to deal with."
"Like?" Jackson questioned, eyes moving off of Stiles after a moment.
"There's a reason wolf packs dominate an entire area. It is extremely uncommon to share territory. Especially if the intruding wolves pose a threat. Such as two betas with a grudge. It's going to get worse before it gets better."
"What does that mean?" Stiles questioned, unable to look at Peter.
"It's most likely going to end one of two ways. My nephew and Scott join…or they die." The words hung heavy in the room and Stiles focused on Peter's fingertips moving over him.
"What if we don't want to fight?" Jackson asked for him.
"Things are going to become very difficult for all of us." His fingers paused for a moment. "To ensure the safety of our pack our instincts will tell us to expand it."
"But we can't…change anyone…" Stiles said haltingly. He finally forced himself to look at Peter.
"No. However that won't stop a mating frenzy."

A/N: This story may or may not be getting longer… *shifty eyes* I'm thinking about it lol. Yeah I'm just… *gestures vaguely and debates internally*

I'll stop talking now.