Chapter Thirteen: Morrigan

The Morrigan next came in the form of a rough, grey-red bitch-wolf.

So spake the Morrigan…

"Knows not the restless Brown of the truly deadly fray that is not uncertain?- A raven's croak- The raven that doth not conceal- Foes range your checkered plain- Troops on raids- I have a secret- Ye shall know. . . The waving fields- The deep-green grass . . . and rich, soft plain- Wealth of flowers' splendour- Badb's cow-lowing- Wild the raven- Dead the men- A tale of woe- Battle-storm on Cualnge evermore, to the death of mighty sons- Kith looking on the death of kin!"

x.

Everything was silent. The moon bore down on them, casting Stiles's blank face in shadows as Derek watched him, his eyes wide and human, lips parted ever so slightly in shock. Then a trickle of crimson liquid ran down Derek's chin from the side of his mouth, and, very slowly, he fell back onto the dusty, hard ground, a burst of red-black blood blooming on his chest.

Helplessly, Derek's eyes rolled back as someone stood over him, blocking the light of the full moon. She knelt down beside him, gently taking his head in her hands, her eyes a pure, uninterrupted, ghostly white.

"Derek," whispered Laura, gently running her thumb along his temple. "I don't want you to die." He stared up at her desperately, confusion and pain written in the agonized lines of his face. "But you're a soldier." She lowered her head, pressing her lips against her forehead. Her skin was colder than his, even as the blood pumped out of him from the wound on his chest. "And soldiers," she breathed, lips brushing against his face, "are expendable."

On the tree, Stiles propped himself up by his hands, blinking, staring down at the sight before him. And suddenly, something seemed to register with him, and he began, "Oh my God-" Laura glanced up at him, eyes eerie and piercing. "Oh my God," he repeated, scrambling backwards across the stump of the tree, away from the woman. "You-" he pressed his hands against himself, his blood-covered hands, and then he let out a hiss of pain and pulled up his shirt, revealing the festering wound around his waist. In shock, he whispered, "…me?" As Laura drew herself up to full height, Stiles stared up at her.

"Thank you, Stiles," she said, very simply. "I hope you realize what a vital role you played in all of this."

"What?" he asked, trembling up at her. "What did I do?"

She reached out, as if to touch his face; on the surface of the Nemeton's stump, he tried to scramble away, but some invisible force pulled him towards her, and her fingers were ice-cold where they touched his chin. "My family," she breathed, "binds women into wolves when they die. I was fortunate. To be unbound is one thing, but," she almost laughed, "to be unbound by a druid…"

His eyes widened, and he stared at her in fear. "The wolfsbane rope," he whispered. "When we dug up your body…"

"Exactly," she purred, satisfied. "You broke the spiral. You let me out. Once Cora finally found Alpha, the gates were open, and then you – my druid, my savior-" she grinned at him, teeth white and gleaming in the moonlight, "-you forged a connection to the Nemeton. And it began."

"No," he breathed, but then his elbows buckled and he twisted away from her, covering his face, and she reached up a hand and flicked sideways. Some invisible force threw him aside, slamming his body hard on the trunk of a nearby tree, and he crumpled uselessly at its base.

Laura stood before the Nemeton, under the moon of the winter solstice. She held her arms out, white eyes closed, and breathed in deeply. The blood still spilling from Derek's body moved and streamed away from him, as if drawn by some force towards her, tiny rivulets of trickling scarlet life torn away from her brother, reaching her feet, twisting up her body, restoring her cold, pale, lifeless body with warmth and color.

And then, out of nowhere, a piercing, screaming howl broke the calm of the clearing, and something collided with Laura with such force that it knocked her onto the Nemeton, breaking the streams of blood which climbed up her body. Her clear white eyes widened and she bared long fangs as Cora landed on top of her, pinning her to the tree. Laura's hand shot out and she caught her sister around the throat, clutching on tightly. "No-!" choked Cora, her hands going to her sister's wrist, digging in. With enormous force of will, she squeezed, then jerked her hand back, snapping Laura's wrist with a loud crack. Laura screamed, and then threw Cora off of her, onto the ground, and stood up on the Nemeton, the whiteness in her eyes glowing in the dark, reflecting the silver of the moonlight.

In pain, her eyes hooded and hard and focused on her sister, Cora got to her feet, her back bent, ready to launch into assault again. Stony and cold, baring her teeth threateningly, Cora asked bluntly, "How?"

Laura's face split into a smile. "How?" she repeated. "You know how, Cora. You know the sacrifices I needed."

"You needed me," said Cora, with a wary grimace, slowly moving, circling the stump of the Nemeton, and Laura atop it. "You were going to use me-"

Shaking her head, Laura called, "I take soldiers. Not daughters. I would have preferred to use Peter, for – obvious reasons. But any remaining male bloodline would do."

Cora clenched her jaw, heart pounding, and glanced to where Stiles lay limply. Unwilling to tear her senses away from Laura enough to listen for a heartbeat, she could only hope that he was still breathing. "It was him, wasn't it?" she asked, and her voice was too loud to shake, compensating for the cold fear twining around her insides. "Stiles. He was the druid directing the power, that's why it's been affecting him the worst. You've been using him."

Laura only watched her sister, without moving her head to make an indication of assent. "He's been making the spell," she said. "But you were the conduit, Cora." She stared at her, those white eyes eerie and cold. "If anyone was using him, it was you." Cora stared at her. It felt like her heart slowed down, each beat lasting an eternity. "The closer you two became," said Laura, with that sick smile on her face again, "the easier it was to take him away."

There was a silence. Cora stared at her. And then, without making a sound, she shot forward, slashing at Laura's face. The smile disappeared, molting into a dark, twisted sneer, and she threw Cora to the ground.

"My own sister," she hissed, stepping off the Nemeton, advancing on Cora. "My own family, disobeying the rightful Alpha-"

Cora roared at her sister, claws held out, her eyes a blindingly deep red. "I am the Alpha!" she bellowed at her, howling at the moon, and she threw herself towards Laura. "You killed Derek!"

Laura hit her sister across the face, knocking her to the ground. "We make," said Laura loudly, pressing her foot against Cora's neck, "sacrifices. A daughter of the Hales is infinitely more valuable than a son. This has always been true."

Growling, with the last of her breath, Cora gasped, "You are not a Hale daughter… you are not my sister…"

Laura stared at her for a long moment, struggling beneath her foot. And then she cocked her head sideways and pressed down, crushing her sister's throat.

Very lightly, her voice hardly more than a breath, Laura said, "I suppose you're right." She removed her foot, pressing it against Cora's face; instantly, Cora wrenched her head out from beneath Laura's foot and rolled away, clutching her throat, panting for breath as it healed. Those piercingly white eyes shone as wind began to whip, throwing dust into the air, and Laura held out her arms. In the distance, a conspiracy of ravens erupted from the trees, feathers flying, cawing into the night.

Voice loud and distorted, as if simultaneous with a thousand screams and great walls of glass shattering into pieces, she spoke.

"I am the Phantom Queen," and the earth itself seemed to shake at her voice. "I am a Valkyrie. I am Lamia, Lilith, and the Mara. I am the Mother, the Maiden, and the Crone. I am Badb, Macha, and Nemain."

She advanced towards Cora, long hair flying, black veins pulsing up her neck, into her face.

"I am the Morrigan," she hissed, "and I am the witch your family bound when they carved my symbol onto the skin of your daughters."

She held out her hands, staring down at Cora; and then there was a loud bang and Laura froze. Slowly, she looked down at her body. Where the bullet collided with her chest, bright red blood dripped down her body.

"Witch?" asked Lydia, narrowing her eyes, standing beside Allison, who held a shotgun in her hands. "Oh, I am sure you meant the other word."

Laura snarled at them, and Allison shot again, then said to Lydia, "Take care of him."

"Him?" asked Lydia, her eyes wide, stumbling slightly backwards as Laura stepped over Cora's prone body and moved forward, bleeding her brother's blood from her wounds. "Stiles or Derek?"

Allison shot two more times and said, "Whichever you can get to, just go."

With one last glance at Laura, Lydia ran behind Allison, kneeling beside Stiles, completely unconscious. As Allison shot another time, but Laura moved forward without any indication of pain, Allison called warningly, "Cora…"

On cue, Cora's hand shot out, catching Laura by the ankles, digging her claws into her heel, pulling her back so quickly that she fell to the ground. Using the force of the pull to swing to her feet, Cora landed her foot squarely on the back of Laura's head as she darted forward, to where Allison stood, loading the gun. "I don't think that's doing anything," gasped Cora, breathing hard, almost healed.

"This might," replied Allison, keeping her eyes up, on the woman before them. "Wolfsbane bullets. If she's in your sister's body, she's still got the vulnerabilities of any other werewolf. It might not kill her, but it'll slow her down."

Cora nodded, and Laura rose again; Allison shot her in the chest, and she roared, her white eyes glowing, lighting up, her outstretched hand twisting sharply, as if clawing at something invisible. Beside Cora, Allison suddenly gasped, clinging tightly to the gun. "Allison?" asked Cora, glancing at the other girl. Laura smiled, her eyes flickering between the girls, and Cora took bodily hold of Allison, shaking her. "Allison, come on, I need you-!"

"No," whispered the hunter, her eyes rolling backwards as if unconscious. She held the gun tightly to her chest; in her mind's eye, a pack of wolves descended, salivating, their golden eyes glinting, threatening to dig their snouts into her intestines, tearing her body apart.

Shaking Allison by her shoulders, Cora shouted her name once more, but then Allison said, steadily: "No. Not again."

There was a sharp bang and Cora's eyes widened, the red draining from them, the bullet lodged deeply in her stomach. For a moment, no one moved. And then, very slowly, the pain entered Cora's body, more intense than she had felt in years, more real than fire, than the stinging, electrifying heat of the mark on her back, and then everything became simple.

As she fell, animal instinct flooded into her veins, and the black ooze from her wound matted her fur as she hit the ground, a small, silver, red-eyed wolf.

Laura stood there before Allison, shaking and screaming against some unseen force, and Cora, no longer there in any human capacity. Laura breathed deeply, the chaos-laden air sweet in her lungs, and the wolfsbane bullet ejected from her body, falling uselessly to the ground.

She held up a clawed hand, looking down at the girl before her pitifully. "Your brother was meant to do," she said quietly, "but after all the damage to this body, I could use a boost…"

She knelt down, trailing her claws along the wolf's body. The wound was healing rapidly, far faster than it would in a human body. Laura clutched the animal's head, clamping the snout closed, and whispered, "I am sorry, Cora. Believe me. It's nothing personal."

There was a rushing, whizzing sound, and then a body appeared, leaping over the body of the wolf and barreling into Laura, throwing her to the ground, slashing at her throat.

Hissing into Laura's face, hovering above her gleaming white eyes, Sam said, "Yeah. It just got personal." Without using her claws at all, Sam's decidedly human fist collided with the side of Laura's face. "You want to hurt your family?" she roared, snarling. "You'll have to kill me first."

Laura threw her head back, exposing the torn flesh of her throat, healing again. She laughed, and it sounded like a thousand screams and a million croaking caws of every raven across the forest. Then she took Sam's head and threw her face, hard, into the ground. Laura pulled herself up to her feet, staring down at the girl. "Kill you?" she echoed, her voice dripping derisively with poison. "And you think that will stop m-"

She broke off suddenly, the grin sliding from her lips, eyes widening, raising her arms, gaze jerking down to her body.

Blood trickled out of the wounds at her throat and on her chest, pooled on the dirt beneath her, forming a stream that slithered across the ground, back to where Derek lay. Rosemary knelt beside him, hands over his wound, slowly extracting the spear from his flesh, muttering an incantation, rubbing something into the spot from which he bled. Beside her, Grace slowly got to her feet, staring at Laura, her lip curling back to reveal long, threatening fangs. A third wolf appeared, Jaz: she stood on the Nemeton, growling down at Laura, who only spared a glance for her, then looked back at Grace, and smirked.

"It was a mistake," Laura said, addressing Grace, bowing her head slightly, "not to cut you in two." She smiled at Grace, cocking her head. "The whole time, I had you fooled," she said. "You really thought I would bring her back for you?"

Grace only stared at her, head held high. The werewolf on the Nemeton hissed and advanced forward, and Grace said sharply, "Jaz."

The smile on Laura's face widened, eyes white and unnatural. "Is this it?" she asked, her voice hushed. "Just you and me. Lovers facing one another on the battlefield?"

Grace said nothing for a moment. And then she shook her head.

"Ex -lovers," she corrected, and then Jaz and Sam howled simultaneously, throwing themselves at either side of Laura; Grace leapt over Rosemary and Derek and, claws extended, sprinted towards Laura, tearing at her flesh. She snarled back at them, white eyes flashing, blocking their blows. Jaz threw herself upwards, curled her legs around Laura's neck, squeezing, wrenching her off-balance so that Sam could collide her fist with Laura's skull again, and Grace reached out to hold Laura's throat tightly. Slowly, her struggling against them every second, they brought her down to the ground, Grace's hand pressing down in her mouth, between her teeth. Laura bit down, plunging her fangs into Grace's flesh, but she did not wince or flinch away, only stared into Laura's empty white eyes.

And then Laura screamed, and the three werewolves were propelled away from her forcefully, slamming into trees, their backs pressed against the wooden trunks, hanging there as if held by their throats. Wind began to stir again, collecting dirt and dust. Laura rose to her feet, arms held out, claws extended. Her white eyes flickered down to where Rosemary knelt over Derek, and Laura gestured violently with her outstretched palm, sweeping the emissary-wolf up as well, pinning her to a tree like the rest of her pack.

Grace glanced to either side of her, seeing her Betas struggling for breath, Sam gasping desperately, face red, not quite healed from the wounds Laura had inflicted on her.

Drawing on her last vestiges of breath, Grace whispered, "Laura… if you can…hear me…"

Her breath escaped her in a shudder, and her dark eyes were not wet with tears, but burning with unyielding resolve.

She gasped, "Let them go," and Laura did nothing, only stared.

And then Laura closed her fingers into a fist, and all four werewolves fell silent, bruises already forming from the invisible, wraithlike hands clasped around their throats.

She watched them for another moment, and then her gaze dropped back down to where she had left Cora, in the panting, shaggy form of a wolf. She was not there. Laura narrowed her eyes and glanced around. There was only Allison, lying on the ground with her eyes still open, body jerking as the wolves in her head dug through her insides.

"I see," said Laura softly, her voice low, eyes still on the ground. "You may be Alpha, Cora, but you're still just a child. The only thing you know how to do is slink back into the woods and hide."

The wind whipped around frantically, and, her shining eyes reflecting the silvery light of the moon, she rose preternaturally into the air, arms still splayed out, Grace's pack all nearly unconscious, no breath filling their lungs. Laura's head lolled back, and the mark at the base of her neck shone with the same white light of her eyes. Beneath her, red blood from Derek's wound lifted into the air, twisting and shooting like dye in water, spiraling up to her body, curling around her limbs, breathing life into Laura's corpse.

From nowhere, something sailed through the air and collided thickly with the side of Laura's skull. Instantly, the winds quietened, and Laura's gaze raked down to the ground, where Lydia knelt beside Stiles's limp body, tears streaming down her face, smearing her makeup. She sniffed loudly, and then took off her other shoe and flung it at Laura as well. Without shifting her gaze, Laura moved her head ever so slightly, and the high-heeled shoe was flung away, into the forest.

Laura only stared at her.

Lydia pressed her lips together, rocking back and forth, trying to stave off the sobs in her throat. Her face contorted into an ugly, hateful scowl, she shouted, voice hoarse: "You think you've won?"

The words echoed in the emptiness, the strange calm of the night.

Lydia clung to Stiles's body, holding him tightly, and took a great, deep breath. With revulsion, she spat up at the witch, "That's cute," and then she opened her mouth wide and screamed, shrill and hoarse and ringing in the darkness.

Narrowing her eyes, Laura began, "Screaming isn't going to help your-" but then another voice cut through the silence-

"CORA, NOW!"

And a girl darted from the trees, clutching a wound on her stomach; from the opposite direction, someone ran into the clearing. Before Laura could do more than look down at them, they met below her in the middle of the clearing, and Scott's hands brushed Cora's for just a moment as he pressing something into her palms. Then, leaping upwards, Cora planted her foot firmly in Scott's hands, his fingers interlocked, and he propelled her up towards Laura's body, hanging in the air. A fierce, savage wind stirring on the ground, the ghost-witch barely had time to throw out her hand before Cora reached out and just barely hooked a length of rope around Laura's ankle. Landing low to the ground, Cora looked up: a scream bubbled from Laura's lips, something like actual fear there, and then she fell, hard, onto the surface of the Nemeton. Around them, Grace's pack fell as well, collapsing at the base of the trees to which they had been pinned, and Allison snapped out of her trance, eyes wide, stiff and still on the dusty ground.

Scott and Cora descended on Laura, who screamed and writhed beneath them, throwing them off. "Help us!" yelled Scott, and Grace unsteadily got to her feet, stumbling forward, falling to the ground, blinking, coughing loudly. Laura fought against them, and just as her hand reached out, clasping for Scott's face, someone took firm hold of her arm, pulling her away. Lydia stood by the side of the tree stump, barefoot, mascara running. "I knew you'd come," she breathed. "I knew-"

Grace appeared, pinning Laura's head onto the tree, pressing down against her face, muffling her screams. "Lift her up!" shouted Cora, and Grace's pack suddenly surrounded them, each taking strong hold of Laura, keeping her immobile as Cora wrapped the rope around her sister, binding her body tightly. She thrashed and seized beneath them, screaming and shouting desperately; Cora heard Laura scream her name, and their brother's name, but she did not stop. Allison joined them, holding the woman until Cora finally wound the rope around her neck, tying it tightly, and then she became suddenly, utterly still.

And then they held a wolf, heavy and dense with muscle. Fur dark and mottled, its snout lolled open, exposing enormous canines. Cora's palms stung from where she had handled the wolfsbane rope.

They lowered the animal back onto the Nemeton. A deep red liquid seeped out of its body and slithered down along the tree, across the ground, to where Derek still lay. With a jolting, gasping inhale, he began to breathe.

There was a silence. And then Cora doubled over slightly, a hand going to the wound at her stomach. "Allison," she said, without looking up. "Your bullets."

"Oh my God," replied Allison, her eyes flickering down to the disgusting black mess at Cora's abdomen. "I shot you, oh my God-"

"Wolfsbane?" asked Scott, and Allison nodded. "OK," he said, "she needs one of the bullets, right now."

Her eyes lingering on Scott, Allison nodded, and then she reached into a pouch at her belt and produced a long, dangerous bullet. Scott bit it open, pouring the wolfsbane powder onto the surface of the Nemeton. "Fire," he said, looking up at Allison wildly. "We need fire, we have to burn it-"

Allison removed something else from her belt and stuck it into the tree; the flare lit up the herb with a sparking, bright intensity, and Cora flinched away from it, but did not move. Without anything else, Cora swept the ashes into her fist and pressed them against her wound, letting out a deep, loud scream of pain, pressing her face uselessly into the wood of the Nemeton. After a few long, painful moments, her screams subsided. Breathing slowly, she looked up again, the bullet wound completely healed.

Grace glanced at Cora. "Are you all right?"

Cora's hands slid out to the wolf, clutching its dark fur. "Yeah," breathed Cora. "I'll heal."

Quietly, her eyes focused on those of the wolf's, Grace said, "Go help your brother. I'll take care of her."

"What are we going to do?" asked Sam, looking up at her Alpha.

"Tear her go pieces," replied Jaz, her yellow eyes flickering up to Sam's face. "Put her back in the ground."

Sam's gaze lingered on Jaz for a moment, then she looked to Rosemary, who bowed her head in assent. "That should keep her down," she said softly. "For good."

"No," said Cora bluntly, kneeling beside the wolf on the wide surface of the tree. "Don't touch her."

Grace watched Cora, her face tight. And then she reached out and, cautiously, began to say Cora's name.

Abruptly, a hand clamped around Cora's wrist; Lydia gasped in fear, flinching away as the wolf below them became human once again, holding onto her sister tightly. Laura began to cry, and when she looked up, she met Cora's gaze with blue-green eyes, pupils inky black.

"No," she whispered, through gentle, keening cries. "Don't stop her. Let me go." She squeezed Cora's wrist tightly, searching her eyes. "Let me go," she breathed, tears cleaning perfect, pristine tracks down her face. "Don't let me hurt anyone else."

She closed her eyes, hand shaking.

"Derek," she uttered, between shuddering breaths. "Just let me…see him…"

Cora held her sister's hand, saying nothing. And then she shifted, allowing Laura to glance beyond them, to where Derek still lay on the ground, unconscious. When she saw him, she immediately looked away, chin trembling, still desperately clinging to her sister's hand.

"Cora," she breathed, the green of her eyes so like that of her brother, "tell him I'm sorry. I was awake the whole time, inside of her. I saw – everything-"

She wept. Her head fell back, and she let out a loud cry, of shame and pain and grief. Grace glanced up at her pack and they silently left, going to Derek's side. Scott did the same to Allison and Lydia, but Allison refused to meet his gaze, watching Cora stoically. He backed away with Lydia, turning around to return to where Stiles still lay.

Cora held onto her sister. Laura opened her eyes and then moaned, "Grace."

Grace did nothing acknowledge that she had heard Laura, standing there without a word.

"Grace," repeated Laura, as she wept. She let go of Cora's wrist with one hand and reached out with barely enough strength to raise her arm, holding her fingers out towards the other woman. "Grace," whispered Laura, and her eyes closed very slowly, and her cries calmed, fading away, "…I love…"

Cora blinked, and she held onto soft fur again. The wolf did not move.

Grace reached out and placed a hand on Cora's. "Leave her," she said, an old, tired ache in her voice. "I can finish this."

"No," said Cora, her voice slitting through the night. She tore her hands away from Grace, staring down at the animal before her. "She's so close. I'm not letting her go. I wasn't there to protect her last time, but I'm not letting my sister die again."

Allison said, "You have to, Cora. There's nothing else we can do."

Her tongue flitted along her dry lips, and Cora pressed her hands into the soft fur of the wolf. "Yes, there is," she said firmly. "Alpha transference. It'll work like a final sacrifice. Or at least give her just enough power to come back."

"You can't do that," said Grace, her expression hard, turning to face Cora. She reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. "It would kill you. I know – I know how badly you want her back. But you can't expect her to live with your death on her shoulders. She wouldn't. She couldn't." Her fingers dug into Cora's shoulder, and she looked back at the wolf lying unmoving before them. "You have to end this now, before it can hurt any of you any more."

There was a silence. And then Cora lowered her head down to the animal's body, burying her face in the thick fur, clinging to her sister.

She pulled away, hovering inches above the warm, humming body. "I can't do it," she murmured. "Not alone."

Cora glanced up, meeting Allison's gaze.

For a second, Allison didn't move. And then she glanced around her, and looked back at Cora. "What?" she asked, puzzled. "What can I do?"

Straightening up, her brow heavy and determined, keeping her hands clenched in the wolf's fur, Cora began, "The Morrigan powered her this far. She's so close, she only needs enough to bring her back for good. I don't know if I can do it alone, but it might be possible…" she peered into Allison's eyes, "…with two Alphas."

"What?" asked Allison, aghast. "Cora, I'm not a werewolf. If you want an Alpha, Scott can help-"

"That wouldn't work," said Cora, shaking her head. "Alpha transference is a female ritual. Besides, it's too risky, she might take him as her final sacrifice. If that happens then it wouldn't be Laura at all, it'd be the Morrigan. But if we can just give her enough-"

"Cora," said Allison, cutting her off. "Whatever this ritual is, I can't help you. I'm not a werewolf."

"But you are an Alpha," insisted Cora. "By inheritance. The same way I am. This has nothing to do with the wolf inside of us, this is about our power." She reached out, taking hold of Allison's arm; Allison realized, for the first time, that Cora was trembling. Still staring intently into Allison's eyes, Cora continued, her voice gaining strength: "Your family has been built on destroying mine for centuries. Anyone before you, before you, Allison, before your generation, would have killed me the second you met me. You would have killed Scott as soon as you found out what he was. You would have burned my family alive, and cut my sister in two."

She stared at Allison, gripping her arm tightly. She was desperate, and yet it did not show on her face. She met Allison's gaze steadily, without looking away.

"You were the one," she whispered, "who said we could change all of that." The resolve in Cora's eyes did not waver, even as her voice broke. "Give me this. Give me my family back. You owe it to me."

Nothing. And then, slowly, Allison took Cora's hand. She said, "I'll help you. But I don't know how, I don't have the kind of – the kind of connection that you have to her-"

"That's OK," she said, finally looking down, back at the wolf bound in rope between them. "We have someone capable of linking human power to wolves."

Glancing up, her eyes slid past Allison, to where Lydia sat beside Stiles. Grace followed her gaze, and then her eyes widened. "A banshee?" she asked Cora, her voice hushed. "Of course. Her scream. That's how the other Alpha found us."

"His name," said Allison icily, looking over at Grace, "is Scott."

Without looking at Allison, Grace crossed, fetching Lydia, pulling her towards the Nemeton. "I'm going to what?" she demanded, as soon as Allison told her the plan. "What are you talking about? I don't know how to do that!"

"Please," said Cora. "Please. Just trust me."

She held out her hands. Allison took hers; Lydia looked down at it warily for a moment, then finally relented, taking it and linking hands with Allison as well. The wolf lay in between them, barely breathing.

Grace stood with Derek, with the rest of her pack. Rosemary watched the three girls in awe. "The Triple Goddess," she whispered. Beside her, Derek stirred.

The moon appeared from behind a cloud, shining down on the women around the Nemeton. A sweeping, warm wind rustled around their feet, an old creaking, moaning sound from beneath the great tree. Something hung about them, as if they were weightless, their breaths and hair and bodies moving in slow motion. On each of their backs, below the bony spot at the base of their necks, a shining spot glowed, brighter than the moon. The symbol of the morrigan – the Triple Goddess – the brand of the Hale family – the triquetra – shone, shimmering on the side of the wolf before them.

When the bright light subsided, there was a woman lying wrapped in rope. The three girls let go of each other, stumbling slightly, dizzy in their heads, unsteady in their legs.

No one spoke.

And then, fingers weak, Cora took the rope around her sister's body and slowly began to untangle it. Allison and Lydia helped, even as Cora had to stop, pulling away, her fingers burning from the wolfsbane.

Laura lay motionlessly before them, eyes closed.

Gently, her head moved.

Cora breathed deeply as her sister's eyes fluttered open. She pressed her hands to her mouth, not daring to breathe. Very slowly, a smile appeared on Laura's face and, contently, she muttered, "Cora Lynn… am I in Heaven?"

"No," breathed Cora, reaching out with trembling hands, taking her sister's head, holding her, lying her head on her chest. "No, Laura. You're alive."

Behind them, Derek, eyes wide, got to his feet. Still weak, he almost fell again, but Grace supported him, keeping him upright. Wordlessly he moved to his sisters. Laura saw him, and Cora supported her, helping her sit up. Derek could say nothing, only stare in shock as she drew him in, holding him tightly. Laura pressed her lips against her brother's forehead, and they held each other, the Hale siblings reunited at last.

Allison watched them. Beside her, Lydia let out a huge sigh of relief. "Damn it," she muttered, blinking rapidly, wiping her cheeks with the inside of her wrist. Allison watched her friend's eyes fill with tears, and Lydia let out a half-laugh, half-sob. "What can I say?" she asked wryly. "I'm a total sucker for happy endings." Allison laughed, and then the two girls embraced, hanging on to each other.

From behind them, Scott spoke, breaking the respite of the moment.

"It's Stiles," he called, looking up at them, stricken in fear. His gaze held Allison's, then traveled back to Cora's as he said, "There's still something wrong."

With a glance at her brother and sister, Cora pulled herself away from the Nemeton. Unstably, she made her way over to the base of the tree where Stiles lay. She dropped to her knees beside him, and then reached out. Scott gently handed her Stiles's body, shifting his head and shoulders to lie on her lap. His eyes were barely open but, she thought, he was conscious.

He blinked at her, peering up through the gray darkness of approaching dawn. She ran a hand down his chest, then intertwined her fingers with his.

Faintly, he asked, "Did we win?"

She nodded.

He returned the nod, his eyes closing slightly. "Is everyone else OK?"

"Yes," she replied, her voice very quiet. "But you aren't."

He let out a shivering breath. "Don't worry 'bout it," he muttered. "At least now we know how to bring me back, right?"

He let out a hacking, wet cough. Blood splattered from his mouth across Cora's clothes.

"Hard to believe," he began, eyes closed now, "a couple hours ago, I was this close to not dying a virgin."

"Don't say that," she said, stroking his hair.

"What?" he asked, a tiny smile tugging at the black-stained corners of his mouth. "That I'm a virgin? Not like it's a secret. Bet Derek'll be relieved to hear it, I bet. No, Derek," he called, raising his voice, "weird pack-mate-claim or not, I did not literally mate with your sister. You don't have to worry about my nerdy-ass genes tarnishing future generations of Hale babies." The almost-smile flickered on his lips, eyes still closed, then he asked, "Pups? Do you call them babies or pups? Do you have litters? Do you go into heat?" He laughed, but it turned into a cough, and then he leaned his head back, letting out a groaning, painful sigh. "All these werewolf sex-ed questions we never got around to." He was silent for a long moment. And then, his voice raspy, he whispered, "Did you get your sister back?"

"Yes," replied Cora. He didn't say anything. Her heart seemed to stop, and she asked, "Stiles-?" but then he spoke again.

He asked, "What's she like?"

"You'll find out," said Cora. "You'll meet her. I promise."

His mouth moved, lips opening and closing just a sliver. She trailed her fingers across the marks on his jaw, the moles dotting his neck, feeling his weak pulse.

"Stiles," she said. "Let me turn you."

"No," he replied, with more strength than it seemed he had in him. "No. Cora. Don't."

"You'll heal," she said soothingly, gently turning his head, exposing his neck. "You'll be better. Scott can do it if you want, I don't care, but I'm not losing you."

Feebly, his hand fluttered up, resting on hers. He could not grip her hand, but his eyes opened slightly, as best they could. "No," he said again. "I don't want that. Please don't." When Cora opened her mouth, gazing down at him searchingly, Stiles barely moved his head and then he said, "Scott, don't let her. It's OK." He dragged his hand away from hers, throwing it out; Scott caught it, holding his friend's hand tightly, dropping his head to press his face to Stiles's limp fingers, tears wetting his skin. Eyelids flickering down again, Stiles murmured again, "It's OK."

Nothing. His pulse echoed in their ears, and slowed. He coughed. "When I passed out before," he muttered, leaning his head towards in towards Cora's body, "did you give me mouth-to-mouth?"

She did not reply. And then she leaned her face down, just above his, their noses touching. "Yes," she told him.

The smile returned. It seemed to take a huge exertion of effort to get the tips of his lips to turn upward. "Good," he breathed. "Then we're even."

She closed her eyes, and lowered her lips to his. He barely moved, returning the kiss. After a few lingering seconds, his mouth fell loosely beneath her.

Pulling away, she opened her eyes, staring at his face. "Stiles?" she whispered. Her hands ran across his body, slipping up his neck, holding his head. "Stiles?" she asked, her hands trembling. He did not reply.

She lowered her head, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. She pressed her forehead to his, cradling him in her arms, and for the first time that night, a cry came dripping from her lips, the mournful, empty howl of a widowed wolf.

last chapter is an epilogue, will be up in the next few days.

thank you for reading, and i hope you enjoy 3b coming back tonight...