So I don't know if any of you think so, but I feel like this is kind of a short chapter. But in my defence I'm a little drunk and a whole lot tired. Either way, sorry it's been a while and I know I'm not being all that good with updating, but I've been busy. Hopefully you'll enjoy. . . if not review just to bitch. Whatever floats your boat. Happy reviews are always greatly preferred and appreciated though, they're the oxygen for this fic and I could never be more grateful for all the support this has gotten.

Stiles stood next to Derek in the clearing, Rory on his other side, but he knew it was the former fact that had Mason's eyes narrowing. And Stiles knows why because he isn't stupid, he knows that he has his body positioned so that he's poised ready to leap in front of Derek more than Rory. He knows that he reeks of Derek and of sex, but then that's sort of what happens when you reduce a big bad Alpha to a quivering mess with a handjob and don't even complain once when he drags you in close to lie in a sticky tangle of limbs until you absolutely have to get up. And Stiles would say he'd showered, except Derek had pouted when he'd made his way in that general direction and instead he'd just settled for letting Derek lick all of the remnants of their lovemaking off of him. Which yeah, had been more than a little hot if he was being honest.

And so now maybe he was still a little sweaty and rumbled standing there in the clearing facing off against Mason's Pack, but he really didn't give a shit. He'd be lying if he said he had any particular desire to kill Mason himself, but he did kind of hope that stinking of sex would ramp the guy's jealousy up a little and distract him during the fight.

"You do know this would all be a lot simpler if you just handed him over?" Stiles asked, even though it wasn't really much of a question and he already knew what the answer was going to be. Either way, he felt like it was necessary to say considering they'd all just spotted Charlie creeping onto the edge of the scene and behind him his Pack was vibrating with nervous energy.

And not only that, they were vibrating with the pure need to move, to maim and kill and enact revenge. The memory of Sam's fading heartbeat was thrumming through Stiles' ears like the beat of a war drum, final and almost deafening with all of the connotations and emotions that hung on every note.

Mason scowled ever so slightly, but he didn't seem all that surprised at the question. "You know that isn't going to happen," he said and he was obviously trying to feign ease. Which would have been convincing as well if Stiles didn't know him, if Stiles hadn't dated him for a year and didn't know that the way Mason was repeatedly flexing his fingers every few seconds was due to nerves.

He'd done that right before they'd fucked for the first time actually, but then he didn't think that needed to be mentioned with Derek right there. Not that any of that mattered anymore, since he'd come harder just from the feeling of sucking Derek off than he had ever come having sex with anyone else. Just imagine what it'll be like when you mate properly, when he knots you, his mind whispered to him and really the only reason he told himself to shut the fuck up was because it wasn't really all that appropriate for him to be getting a hard on in the middle of a battlefield.

Or at least what was going to become a battlefield in a few minutes time.

"I just thought I should probably give you an out anyway," he said, knowing full well that maybe it was unorthodox for him to be speaking in the place of his Alpha, but that was just the way that they worked. Rory did the main snarling parts and Stiles did the manipulative pre-battle speeches. "I mean, not all of your Pack has to die, Mase," he said, scrubbing a hand across his hair and not quite knowing when the hell his claws came out, "But we're really not fussy, if it stands between us and him, it dies."

It really was as simple as that.

Mason shrugged. "I already told you, he's my brother and he's Pack," he explained, not that it really needed all that much explanation. They were all werewolves here, they understood the implications of Pack and what that meant. "We will defend him like you defended Jason over in Florida."

Not far behind him and somewhere off to the left there was a choked off, embarrassed sound and Stiles knew without looking who the noise had come from. "Guy's come on, Florida was so not my fault," he groaned, practically whining.

"Jase shut the fuck up, Florida was completely your fault," Sax replied quickly, sounding a little more strained and snappish than he usually would have done – because Jason as a complete tool almost all of the time, but that didn't mean that they were harsh to him, he was still Pack – but given the situation nobody really begrudged him of that.

When Lucy growled, Stiles just knew that Jason had opened his mouth to argue further. Thankfully, even Jason wasn't stupid enough to argue with Lucy. There were definitely perks to being Alpha Female. Not that Stiles would ever have the right anatomy to find out what that felt like, but still, he could imagine.

"I'd say this is nothing personal," Rory said, needing to give some input here because even if they did things backwards as a Pack half the time, they still stuck to some unspoken rules, "Except it really is."

And it was. This was more personal than anything else could possibly be. This wasn't over any border feud and it wasn't about defending territory like the Hale Pack were fighting for. This was for Sam. This was revenge.

Mason just nodded.

And that's when a familiar face appeared, blonde hair swirling around her head like a sort of halo. Although, saying halo generally implied that there were good qualities in the person. She smiled at Stiles, her red lips twisting into an expression that was pure sarcasm and more than a little bit of hatred; but there was also a rather large dosage of contempt in there as well. It was all he could do not to yell out a, "Fuck you," that he really thought was deserved here, but then that niggling voice in the back of his head was telling him that would be childish.

Instead he just muttered, "Erica," under his breath, the name sounding more like an accusation than it should have been able to.

Behind him, he could feel his entire Pack bristle, could taste the anger rolling off of them in waves, but it's Maggie who spoke. It's always Maggie who spoke and honestly, that's probably one of the main reasons that she would always be Stiles' best friend.

"Oh bitch, you're dead meat."

Erica's smile faltered for a second under the force of Maggie's glare, under the weight of an entire Pack's anger. When the smile returned, he couldn't help but notice that it was a little strained.

"Whoever takes her down, I'll buy dinner," Maggie said and the snorts of laughter that echo around the clearing are from his Pack alone, because only they would understand how stingy Maggie can be with her money. She never paid for her own food, let alone anyone else's.

"And I'll buy them a drink," he said, because he can't let his side down here. He can't be the weak one, not anymore. That just isn't him. He's Head Beta of Rory's Pack, he's built up a reputation that is completely justified. And he's also so completely past letting someone like Erica push him around. So even though he can feel Derek's surprise and confusion pressing against his senses, trying to wheedle out answers and explanations, he ignores it and instead just grinned.

And that's when the carnage started.