A/N: ***SPOILER ALERT *** This chapter has dialogue lifted directly from the episode intermixed with Stiles' inner ruminations. I truncated some of the dialogue for brevity's sake as it wasn't exactly my intention to use all of it.

Isaac was beautiful in half-death, his pale skin tinged slightly blue and almost luminous against the ice and water. Stiles felt the thickness of his bones beneath his hands and was suddenly aware of both the strength and delicacy inherent in the wolf; he was at their mercy now, lingering in the state Dr. Deaton swore was necessary for the memory retrograde exercise, yet he was still a creature with preternatural senses who could just as easily claw their faces off. When he'd arched up out of the water, eyes of beta and mouth of fangs, Stiles had felt an intense pulse of attraction for the curly-headed orphan, a feeling he'd never experienced before. He was grateful for the metal tub hiding his lower body from view because it would've been incredibly humiliating to explain the large bulge pressing against the baggy crotch of his jeans. While Stiles often ruminated about the attractiveness of both girls and boys, this felt oddly wrong. Almost as if his body was betraying him in a moment not of his choosing; true he was sixteen and could get wood at the first brush of the wind, but he didn't think that explained it.

"Now remember only I talk to him, too many voices will confuse him and draw him out."

Stiles stared at Deaton in growing consternation. He didn't know what he had expected when he allowed Scott to "talk" him into visiting the vet, but this wasn't it. It was important to find Erica and Boyd, but Isaac was important too and the pup needed protection just as much as his missing packmates.

"Isaac. Can you hear me?"

"Yes...I can hear you."

Stiles ran his hands up and down the teen's calves, disregarding the icy touch of the water lapping at his skin. He knew Isaac needed touch to ground him in the here and now, though Isaac appeared completely out of it. Stiles knew better, could feel a thrumming consciousness seething beneath the human facade, and realized with a touch of wonder he was sensing the wolf.

"This is Dr. Deaton, I would like to ask you a few questions. Is that alright?"

"Yes."

"I'm going to ask you about the night you found Erica and Boyd."

Stiles' eyes flickered towards the vet then up towards the small window near the top of the wall where moonlight glistened against the wet pane and lightning cracked across the sky. A crawling sensation started in Stiles' fingers and spread upwards, a fiery rush crawling through his veins towards his shoulders before plunging down towards his chest and stomach. He tried not to squirm obviously at the alien feeling, determined not to lose contact with Isaac. Something, a sense he didn't fully understand, warned him not to lose contact with the wolf at all. Since he wasn't exactly listening to a sentient being, so much as instinct, he didn't know if there was an or else attached to it, but figured there usually was. The fiery feeling eased once it reached his groin and Stiles nearly groaned in relief, completely missing whatever Derek and Scott were saying. In fact, Scott shouldn't be here, shouldn't be near the defenseless wolf; why was Derek allowing a strange Alpha near an injured packmate? Stiles stiffened with apprehension - what if Scott somehow managed to overpower Derek and stole Isaac away? Dizzying panic began spreading through Stiles at the thought and he yearned to thrust himself between the two wolves but it would require him to let go of Isaac which was the only thing keeping him in his place.

Apparently he moved once too often because Deaton flicked an annoyed grimace at him though his voice never altered from its soothing cadence.

"I want you to remember it for me in as vivid detail as possible, like you're actually there again."

"No, I don't want to do that...I don't want to do that. I don't want to do that."

Isaac shifted beneath the hands holding him down though he was clearly struggling against remembering and not them. Stiles made a soothing sound in the back of his throat even as he glared at Derek for letting this continue. It was important for them to find the others, but at the expense of this one? Of this healthy breathing wolf who could be felt and touched while the others were distant and receding memories? It galled him what a waste this was - more wolves could be made if Derek really needed to fill his pack again, though hopefully this time with an eye towards breeding instead of war. War just took and took and took, leaving destruction in its wake, an uneven balance to Life since Death was eternal while Life was fleeting.

"Just relax, they're just memories, You can't be hurt by a memory."

Stiles wanted to beg to differ since it was clear memories could hurt and this wolf knew more than most how dangerous remembering could be. The lights flickered in time to Stiles growing ire as he saw how badly this session was going, but he couldn't just leave Isaac in such a state, and tightened his hands until it felt like his palms were fusing with the wolf's skin. Both settled as the contact, and Isaac sunk deeper into the water before continuing answering Dr. Deaton's absurd questions.

Isaac's voice was thready as he recounted his adventures and the snatches of conversation he overheard, his eyes open as he blindly stared at something only he could see. His body was knotting up in anxiety again the more he talked and Stiles wanted to shove the interfering doctor aside so he could dive into the water and pull Isaac into a comforting hug.

Suddenly his hands were empty as the young beta sat up with a pained gasp, voice strangled with fear as he whispered over and over, "They're here! They're here!"

"It's alright, just tell us where they are."

"They see me! They found me! They're here!"

Stiles wanted to scream with Isaac, his veins burning as the wolf thrashed again and again, too caught in his terror to comprehend reality from memory. Alpha, save him! Save him from himself! We'll lose him if he stays caught in witch magic!

Derek finally brushed Deaton aside with an angry "This isn't working," and demanded immediate submission and obedience to his Will. "Isaac where are they? Tell me where you are. Isaac, where are you?"

The witch doctor tried to interfere again, but the Alpha commanded his beta to speak: "Isaac where are you, what did you see?"

"It's a vault, a bank vault!"

The lights went out in a pop as a black miasma seeped out of Isaac's pores, obvious remenants of the spell binding the wolf's memories. Whomever had placed it on Isaac hadn't had enough time to anchor the magic deeper into his mind otherwise it wouldn't have broken beneath the weight of Derek's Will. A collective pack of Alphas versus the strength of one was no contest, especially coupled with a witch worker. Stiles shuddered to wonder what would've happened had Isaac not escaped their clutches when he did; he was already a white-knuckle clench away from full-blown Damaged Peter Who Would Be Alpha psychosis as it was without this added strain.

"I saw it, I saw the name. It's Beacon Hills First National Bank!"

Seething resentment wended its way through Stiles as Scott helped the now conscious wolf from the tub, water dripping down the long lean lines of his body. Only Derek and Stiles should see the wolf so vulnerable.

Any sense of accomplishment for remembering was destroyed the moment Isaac became aware of the muted feelings of those surrounding him. It was a mark of an abusive child to be so aware of the shifting mood despite his recent traumatic experience. Preening pride pushed the resentment out when Isaac automatically turned to Stiles for clarification; he didn't know why the beta chose him over Derek, but it was a damn sight better than Scott. And don't think Stiles would forget any time soon how Isaac had grabbed at Scott's arm during one of his convulsions. Clearly something had to be done to make sure those two weren't alone together any time soon.

"What?"

"You don't remember what you said right before you came out of it do you?

"No."

"Ah you said when they captured you that the dragged you into a room with a body."

Isaac might be emotionally retarded at times, but it couldn't be said he wasn't quick on the uptake. Realization and the faint glimmer of his returning memories flashed across his face even as he rejected its truth like an ostrich sticking its head in the sand. And as always it was up to Stiles to smash the comforting illusion in favor of brutal truth. He had done it for Scott and he could do nothing less for Isaac.

"What body?"

"Erica. You said it was Erica."

Though Derek flinched at Stiles' words, it was obviously not unexpected news. And why should it be? An Alpha's power was taken from the pack and he must've felt the loosening of the bonds when she died even if he tried to fool himself into thinking it wasn't anything that permanent. There was hope, however, as Boyd still lived even as Stiles questioned the whys and wherefores of the whole situation in the confines of his own mind. They'd shown enough pack business to the outsiders without baring the lack of trust between him and Derek, so he resolved to find a quiet moment to speak to the Alpha away from the others. It was irritating how much Derek played close to the vest. If only he had come to him sooner for help they wouldn't be playing catch up and trying to figure out what exactly kept the Alphas busy for the past three moons.

Isaac stirred against his side, the icy clench of almost death fading beneath the acclerated healing of his wereolf biology,and Stiles relished the returned heat. Once this was all over he was going to institute a policy of puppy piles with him in the middle so he could feel his wolves all around him. He smiled brightly at the beta, ignoring the confused look he was given in return.

"Is it weird to you that Scott's the voice of reason here?"

Isaac's conversational nudge woke Stiles from the mini-dream he was having, and he tuned back into the conversation flowing around him just in time to add his two bits about finding the information on the bank vault. Derek should never be in charge of planning anything as his role was being the brute force. Stiles was reaching out to pat Derek's arm in a comforting manner when he realized Deaton's eyes were trained on him; for once the vet's face wasn't arranged in its usual Zen-like placidity, but folded into a considering frown.

"Mr. Stilinski I wanted to ask you something before you leave."

Derek flicked an eyebrow at Stiles in a meaningful manner, clearly indicating this was the moment to tell Deaton about his recent experience with Scott, but Stiles ignored him in favor of telling his best friend to meet him at his house in an hour so they could research the information. Within moments the room was cleared and Stiles settled back against the metal table he'd perched on with Isaac.

"So, what's up Dr. D?"

"You tell me, Stiles. I've been observing you and you seem a little...off."

"Off?" Stiles lifted his arm and sniffed his armpits. "I guess I do smell a little rank if even you can smell me from there."

Deaton merely stared at him with folded hands across his stomach like a much skinnier Buddha. It was similar to the Sheriff's glare, a patented crook-buster. One silence filled staring session and criminals were happy to spill the beans on any number of crimes just to make him stop. It didn't work on Stiles, of course, after being exposed to it for most of his life, but this time he had nothing to confess to either his father or his vet. Well, not his vet since he didn't have any animals.

"Stiles."

"Dr. Deaton."

"You were very protective of Isaac tonight."

Confusion and defensiveness rose in Stiles and his voice came out a little sharper than intended. "He was half-dead ! I mean, he doesn't have any real folks now, so someone's gotta watch out for him."

"Interesting you didn't think Derek would do it."

"Of course Derek watches out for him! He just needed some extra help."

"So you're close to Derek and Isaac then? I mean, I know you and Scott haven't spent as much time together as usual."

"Scott's been really busy -"

"I don't really care about Scott right now, Stiles. I'm more interested in your connection to the Hale Pack."

There was a disturbing undertone to the vet's words that set Stiles' nonexistent hackles to rising. "What do you mean my connection to the Hale Pack?"

"Why are you answering a question with a question?"

"Why are you?"

Deaton drew in a deep breath and let it out with an irritated grunt. "Look, tonight you exhibited unexpected behavior even for you. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were a pack-mate by the way you reacted to Isaac's distress."

I am you arrogant fool!

But wait.

Stiles really wasn't.

In fact, this was the first time he'd seen Isaac since school let out in May. He knew the beta had spent time with Scott at different times over the summer, but hadn't come near Stiles at all. His summer vaction was completely bereft of any wolves outside of Scott, though now it was clear as to why. And he told Deaton as much.

"Interesting."

"You know, when you say it like that, you might as well stroke your chin in a thoughtful manner. You know, for the full Evil Supervillian effect."

"Mr. Stilinski," Deaton began, obviously at the end of his proverbial rope. "Has anything strange happened to you in the past few days? Something out of the ordinary?"

"You mean, besides being accosted by strange wolves in the street and made to chant beneath the new moon while completely naked?"

"Yes, beside that."

He opened his mouth to confess about the strange tattoo experience, but instead just said, "Nope."

Stiles ran a hand through his newly grown hair, still weirded out by the sensation. His usual tradition of shaving his head a week before school started hadn't happened when Scott failed to show up. He could've used the clippers himself, but he'd been too angry to do it without causing possible harm. He'd forgiven Scott later when his friend called to apologize because it was incredibly hard not to and had decided this year if Scott could be different than so could he.

"Given the events that have transpired, I think we should put your lessons on hold for now."

"I thought you said it was incredibly dangerous for a Spark to go without training?" Indignation and a cold sense of abandonment canceled out any lingering feelings of guilt for not being completely honest. "Are you saying you're ditching me?"

Deaton shook his head and stood up as he started clearing up the detrius of the night's events. "You're a good student, Stiles -"

"Wait," Stiles said incredously, interrupting him. "Are you breaking up with me? Are you about to give me the whole it's not you, it's me speech?"

"If you let me finish-" the vet waited, then continued. "- you have a strong will and a definite aptitude for this, but I think it's better if you stay away from magic for the time being. Just until the we discover the reason the Alphas are in town."

Stiles fidgeted with a piece of string lying on the table beside him as he contemplated Deaton's words. It made sense to stay under the radar to hide from a pack of killers except something deep inside balked at walking away when those he cared about needed him the most. There was an imbalance in Beacon Hills, as if the murder of the Hale Pack years ago had stirred a great evil just now manifesting itself. Peter's death and resurrection, Jackson's death, resurrection, and transformation were symptoms of a larger problem, a pattern that was slowly coalescing in Stiles' hyperaware mind. He now realized his summer was the lull in the storm and the distant thunder was heralding that the full strength was on the horizon.

"Do you think Isaac's amnesia was natural, a result of his trauma? Or do you think the Alphas used magic on him?"

Deaton had superior control over his facial features, but with his back to Stiles, he didn't think to hide the subtle tensing of his shoulders. A year ago Stiles would've missed the small clue, and even this past month he might've dismissed it, but having seen the black cloud rising from Isaac's body cured him of willful blindness. Whatever was going on here, Deaton had some knowledge of it and wanted to keep Stiles from harm. Or in the dark, a sly voice pointed out. Either way, Stiles needed to be silent and keen, while giving Deaton a false sense of security. He hadn't spent his lifetime trailing after his father without picking up a few tricks of his trade.

"I guess it doesn't really matter since Isaac was able to remember. Do you think we'll be able to extract Boyd?"

It struck him as strange how he was discussing death and destruction with an adult who should've done everything in his power to resolve the situation with someone else in authority instead of entrusting a mission of literal life and death to a young twenty-something and a bunch of teenagers. How was this his life now?

"I think Derek and Scott will come up with a plan, though I do hope you'll follow my advice and stay away from the bank vault."

The string lost its allure and he tossed it into the trash as he stepped up to Deaton's side. Innocent until proven guilty was the motto of the American justice system, but in the brutal shades of grey he now resided, it was an infantile and silly concept because proven guilty had a different priority when your suspect could sprout claws and fangs or trap you with an incantation (and never again would he use the phrase "say the magic word").

"Yeah, I'm not really the gung-ho guns blazing balls to the wall type. I'll leave that to those who can bounce without breaking. I'm more the type who plots and plans and weaves plans. Kinda like a spider, though I'm much cooler than Peter Parker. He was just a stupid guy in weird looking pyjamas."

Deaton huffed a laugh, as his intent, and the tension eased from his posture. "I thought you were Robin to Scott's Batman?"

Stiles scowled. "He never let me be Batman so I was forced to be Robin."

"And now?"

A razor sharp grin full of teeth. "I like the shadows better."

"Maybe you do, Mr. Stilinski. Maybe you do."

"Ooh look at the time, I should go if I'm gonna find that info for Derek."

"Just remember what I said."

"I will, thanks."

Deaton's name was definitely going on the list of suspects.