Disclaimer: Teen Wolf characters are not mine.

A/N: A special thanks to Monitorking4 for letting me bounce caffeine-induced ideas back and forth. And, now for the sad news (maybe). This is the last chapter. I have an epilogue written, so I'll add that in a couple days. Thanks for sticking around! I never thought this story would get this far. :) Love you guys! —Wookie

Fingers scrabbled at my shoulder, and someone was calling my name. I ignored them. A sharp pain burned across my face, and the world snapped into focus. I brought a hand up to where Braeden had slapped me. The skin hot and probably red.

"Focus," she hissed. I blinked at her dumbly before my brain kicked itself into gear. The ghoul might have Derek, but I could find them. I could follow a scent better than anyone. Climbing to my feet, I leaned into the car, sucking up a noseful of Derek's scent. Braedan hurried to her bike, pulling a duffle bag free of the back as I acclimated myself to Derek's scent and locked it into my brain.

She hustled back just as I stepped away from the car. "Got it?" she asked.

I turned in a slow circle, closing my eyes and inhaling deeply. And there it was, Derek's scent heading north. "Got it," I breathed, starting to run.

I followed the scent fairly easily. Wherever it went, the ghoul's stench was present also. It made for a potent duo. I criss-crossed in and out of buildings in the industrial district with Braeden following doggedly along. I kept a slower pace than normal, making sure that I never lost the scent and that she never got too far behind.

We moved through the suburbs, taking backstreets and crossing over empty streets. No one stopped us, though they wouldn't have been able to if they'd tried. I led Braeden further, heading to the very outskirts of the town. And finally, the trail stopped.

In the middle of nowhere.

I spun a quick circle, backtracking a few hundred feet and trying again. But there was nothing. The trial just ended. I let out a low growl of frustration as Braeden jogged up, breathing hard.

"What's wrong?" she huffed, planting her hands on her knees.

I didn't answer, instead skirting the grassy clearing again to pick up anything I'd missed.

Still nothing. I went still, closing my eyes and inhaling deeply as I crouched low to the ground. Beside me, Braeden was quiet, giving me silence in which to work. I liked that about her.

Inhaling again, I almost got dizzy with the heavy rotting smell that washed over me. But this one was different. It wasn't ghoul decomposition. It smelled like...sewage. My eyes snapped open, and they raked across the clearing.

There. At the far edge, there was a small brick construct in the vague shape of a square. It was faded and crumbled, with long grass overgrowing it, but as I approached it, I saw a metal lid sunken in the center of it. Ah. Sewers. The ghoul had taken Derek down into the sewers.

I levered the metal lid off, throwing it aside. Stench billowed up, strong enough to make my stomach lurch and my eyes water. "They're down there," I told Braeden. She breathed carefully through her mouth, nodding. But as I started forward, she caught my shoulder.

"We need to wait," she said.

I spun, already on edge from the adrenaline and the knowledge that somewhere down there, I was going to have to fight the main ghoul. "For what?" I demanded.

"Backup," she said shortly.

I scowled and crossed my arms, but I knew she was right. There was no way I could win against the ghoul, at least not without significant bodily harm and probably death. What I needed was another fighter. What I needed was someone strong and powerful. I needed...

"Scott," I said finally.

Braeden nodded, pulling the strap of her shotgun off her shoulder and checking the gun. "He's on his way," she said. Scott could definitely help us, so I waited as patiently as I could. But the air was strife with tension, and I had never been one for patience. So when the first footsteps echoed through the clearing, my head snapped up and I searched for the source.

It wasn't Scott.

"What are you doing here?" I gritted.

"You called," Peter said with a smirk. As if on cue, my phone started ringing in my pocket. I pulled it out, saw it was Henry calling, and promptly flung my phone across the clearing into the brush.

Braeden raised an eyebrow at me, but I just crossed my arms and huffed. Then I glared at Peter. "I never called you. I don't even have your number," I said with a scowl.

Peter's forehead wrinkled, and he looked at me like I was an idiot. "Your other call."

What?

Oh. The moment when I'd first found out that Derek had been taken. I'd howled. It had been nothing more than an attempt to keep the pain and anger in my chest from consuming me. But Peter had heard it, and now he was here. Dammit. "The ghoul has Derek," I told him. His blue eyes bore into mine with intensity that only Derek could match.

"Where?" he demanded darkly. I pointed down the sewer. "How long?"

I shook my head. "An hour. Maybe more. But from what I can tell, Derek is still...Derek." I shuddered as I said it, a horrible image painting itself in my mind. Derek dead. Derek as a ghoul. But no, he wasn't. Not yet. The scent I'd followed was still distinctly his.

Peter rocked back on his heels, eyes narrowing at the hole. "It's trying to lure you in," he said quietly. I shrugged. Of course that's what it was trying to do. Anyone with half a brain could see that. It had evaluated how I reacted to its little test. It knew how important Derek was to me.

"You're not going," Peter said finally, as if the subject was now closed. I fixed him with a cold stare. He stared right back in that unnerving way of his. "If you go down there, the ghoul won't need Derek anymore."

"If I go down there—" I leaned towards Peter, pure violence on my mind, "—only one of us is coming out. Derek will be the least of the ghoul's worries."

Peter leaned towards me, and it was awkward, because he was taller than me, so I had to tilt my head upwards slightly as he towered over me. "You're not going," he repeated, deadly calm.

I was only two seconds from straight up socking him in the face when more footsteps sounded through the clearing. I turned my head to see who it was, not moving my body an inch. Scott. Finally. But he wasn't alone. The tall man—Argent—was with him.

Argent's gray eyes flicked over the scene. "I hope we're not interrupting anything," he said in a low, reasonable tone. Only, like Derek, he was able to put an element of promised intervention into his voice. I scowled, taking a step back even though I hated to let Peter seem like the more dominant one.

"Now it's a party," Peter grumbled. "All your little friends are here."

I crossed my arms, scowling. "I didn't call them," I said mulishly, jutting my chin out.

"No," Braeden said, drawing all of our eyes to her. "I did."

"Why is he here?" I asked, eying Argent curiously. I didn't know him that well. He had big guns, but I wasn't sure how useful they would be against the ghoul.

Scott looked a little uncomfortable, shuffling his feet for a second. "I asked him to come. He…" Scott faltered. "He's the one that took care of the ghouls at my house. I managed to lure them outside, but he's the one that actually killed them. He'd tracked them to my house."

My estimations of the tall, quiet man skyrocketed. Interesting. One human against two ghouls. Argent, for his part was silent, seemingly still measuring the situation. Then he finally spoke. "What does it want?"

I froze, shoulders hunched guiltily. Scott looked dumbfounded for a second, like he hadn't even considered that yet. I looked at my shoes, staring at the scuffed, torn material. The edge of my foot peeked out of the left one through one of the large tears. "Me," I said finally. All eyes were on me this time, and I didn't like it. "The ghoul wants me."

Braeden and Peter looked grim. Argent was studying me, shrewd and calculating. Scott met my eyes, looking kind of surprised. "Why?" he asked.

I knew why. It wasn't very hard to figure out.

The main ghoul had created tons of "offspring," as it were. And although it was pretty cutthroat, clearly willing to sacrifice them, it had still been angry when it'd discovered the death of the two ghouls at Scott's house. And it had been angry when I'd killed the ghoul in the grocery store. Like everything else, it had some shred of parental obligation, and I had killed more than my fair share of its "offspring."

Argent's expression changed from calculating to understanding. "How many have you killed?" he asked quietly. I looked down at the large rip in my shoe again, quietly counting in my head. "AJ," he prompted, when I had been quiet for too long, "how many have you killed?"

I glanced up at him before moving my gaze back to my shoes quickly. It felt a lot like facing down Derek again. "Ten," I said quietly, wishing the ground would just swallow me up and be done with it. Scott's jaw dropped, but Argent just nodded, looking as grim as Peter and Braeden.

Braeden opened her duffel again and pulled out three flashlights. Argent already had one, so she passed the other two to Scott and I. "It's okay," Peter snarked. "I didn't really want a flashlight to be able to see the large, flesh-eating monster coming anyways." We all ignored him.

"Ready?" Braeden asked, pulling her shotgun around and fixing the small flashlight to it. I moved forward to the hole, shining the light down. There was no ladder, but I could see the bottom, so I just hopped down and absorbed the shock by bending my knees.

Braeden came next, swinging herself down with her arms and dropping the last few feet. Scott followed, and then Argent. No one waited around to see if Peter was going to follow. He was the odd man out in this group, that was for sure. Considering what I'd heard of their past interactions with him, though, I didn't blame them.

The tunnel was dark as we walked through it, and the sewer splashing at our feet was noxious and loud. I tried to take small breaths, using only my mouth, but the scent was still overwhelming. In fact, it muddled any scent of Derek and the ghoul that was left.

We continued on until we came to a split. One pipe veered off sharply to the right, and the other continued straight ahead. Both Scott and I tried to catch the barest hint of Derek or the ghoul, to tell us which direction to take, but neither of us could pinpoint where Derek was. Failing that, we tried listening. Everyone went quiet around us, probably realizing the need for silence. Eventually, I lifted out of my crouch, shaking my head.

"Nothing," I admitted. Scott shrugged, a rueful expression on his face in a similar confirmation.

"We'll split up," Braeden said, automatically taking a step down the tunnel to the right. She hefted her shotgun in practiced readiness and moved carefully down the tunnel. Scott lingered by me and Argent for a second before heading down the tunnel after her.

That left me and Argent alone. Peter, oddly enough, was nowhere to be seen. But I didn't have time to think about it, because Derek was still out there, and who knew what the ghoul could be doing to him.

I started walking down the tunnel again, trying hard not to vomit into the slimy water sloshing at my feet and in my shoes. We hadn't gone more than three steps when Argent broke the silence. "There was a body. With the corpses of the ghouls," he said, voice low. "The ones I took care of in the alley. It was human."

He was talking about the man I had abandoned to save Derek. An innocent bystander. "Bait," I said, feeling the familiar guilt come surging back. "The ghoul wanted to see who I would choose to save."

Argent's breathing was quiet behind me. Then, after a while, he spoke. "You chose Derek." No judgement, just understanding.

"Yeah," I said quietly, almost too softly to be heard. "I chose Derek."

We walked on silently. The only noises were each other's breathing and the occasional splash. A question popped into my head. I tried to keep it inside, but it came bubbling out my mouth anyways. "How'd you kill them?" I asked.

Argent chuckled, the sound low and comforting for some reason. "Because I'm just a human, you mean?" I threw a glance of my shoulder with an unapologetic shrug. He hefted the gun in his right hand. "Incendiary rounds," he said with a little smile.

I wrinkled my forehead, not knowing what that even meant. He mimed shooting something and then made a little explosion with his fingers, complete with a funny noise. Oh. That made sense. It also seemed quite useful.

I opened my mouth to say so when the first sound reached me. It was indecipherable for a few seconds, then I understood what it was just fine. Laughing. Somewhere down the tunnel, the ghoul was letting out a garbled, wheezing laugh.

Argent and I went still. The ghoul's laughter continued for a second then faded. The next sound, however, was Derek's. There was a sharp, unmistakable cry of pain, choked off in a manner that clearly suggested he was trying to bite back the noise.

Hot, venomous anger surged through me as another gravelly chuckle whispered down the tunnel. The ghoul was playing with us, and it was pissing me off. Derek let out another choked cry, one that made my fists ball and face turn ugly. I gritted my teeth, breathing hard, and Argent touched my shoulder. "Don't let it get inside your head," he said softly.

Inside my head.

That gave me an idea. I closed my eyes, summoning every shred of anger up inside my chest. Then I let it go in a long, slow breath. I breathed in once more, and let my flashlight fall to the floor. It plopped into the water before flickering a few times. Then it went out. But that was okay, because I didn't need it anymore.

I snapped my eyes open, and they quickly adjusted to the dark, no doubt flaring blue if Argent's slight jump in heart rate was any indication. Then I let my jaw lull and let the air leak out of my chest in a slow howl.

The sound wasn't powerful, like Derek's, or commanding, like Scott's. Instead, it was lilting and eerie. The odd keening bounced and ricocheted down the walls of the tunnel, echoing on and on. It was, at it's very core, a completely creepy promise of an imminent encounter. A promise that I was very willing to make good on.

The sound faded, and an equally eerie silence fell. Good. The ghoul wasn't laughing now.

Argent and I continued forward on high alert, now more than ever. And it didn't take us more than a few minutes of walking to reach an open area.

The walkway widened and the walls fell away, leaving us facing a long, wide rectangle of concrete, framed on the right by the deep, turbulent waters of the sewer. There was a large metal grate under an arch of concrete at the far end of the sewer canal. The water rushed through it, but beyond the wall, I didn't know where it led. On the other side of the canal, however was a narrow strip of concrete, just wide enough to be a walkway. There was an opening near the far corner or the room, just like the one we'd just come out of that connected, to the walkway. I hoped to hell that just happened to connect to the tunnel that Braeden and Scott had taken.

But it didn't matter, though, because the ghoul was camped out in the middle of the concrete area. Derek lay limp at its feet, bare chest covered in bleeding gashes. It looked like the ghoul had cut him multiple times, probably for fun and to keep him weak.

When it saw me, it stood its full height, mouth gaping wide in challenge. If it could speak, I could imagine a very twisted, garbled, "Come at me, bro," would issue forth from the putrid depths of its mouth. But all that came out were dripping strands of saliva and excited, heavy breaths.

It took a step forward, leaving Derek, and Argent needed no more incentive than that. He open fired. The ghoul took a full clip to the chest, all the while lumbering towards us. Fluid and skin flew, but it still closed the distance impossibly fast.

I threw myself at it before it could reach Argent. Claws out, I swiped at its belly, only half serious. It moved backwards before I could do any real damage. Its forwards momentum had stopped, though, which was the point.

A hand swept out, almost faster than I was able to see coming and smashed across the side of my head. I saw it at the last second, able to roll with the punch instead of letting it hit me like a bag of rocks.

Stars spun in my vision as I crouched low, then I sprung, driving my knee up into the ghoul's side. Bones broke under my explosive drive, and I danced backwards with another half hearted swipe of claws before the ghoul could retaliate.

Argent took the opportunity to start shooting again. This time, he narrowed his focus to the legs. The ghoul staggered back, its right thigh and hip exploding into blood and goop. It let out a roar, bullying forward despite its mangled leg and flinging Argent sideways into a wall. The tall man hit with a thud and fell to the ground, his gun clattering down onto the concrete. The ghoul hunched forward, swiping a long arm out and sending the gun skittering across the concrete and into the turbulent canal of water.

I launched myself forward, up onto the ghoul's back. One hand slashed at its throat and the other clawed at its face. I couldn't penetrate its neck very deeply, but I got one of it's eyes, I think, because it screamed all shrilly before managing to fling me off.

I was airborne for a moment before slamming down onto the concrete. The ghoul shambled towards me, and I tried to get myself upright. Scott exploded out of the tunnel on the other side of the canal. He planted one foot in the narrow walkway and vaulted over the rushing water. Then he dropped into a crouch, a low growl emanating from his throat. The ghoul pivoted on its good leg, looking between me and Scott with its one good eye.

Its gaze swung to the opening in the wall Argent and I had come out of, and I remembered how much it liked to escape and regroup. Fighting off the pain of a bruised hip, I scrambled sideways, putting myself between the ghoul and the escape route. It hissed in frustration and charged me.

I held my ground, knowing that if I moved, then the ghoul would escape and kill more people. At the last second, it tried to dodge around me, and I slammed into it head on, burying one hand in its stomach and using the other to block the inevitable blows the ghoul rained down on me.

Hot fluid sprayed as my claws slashed through its belly. Argent's special bullets had already made a mess, and I just opened the wound up further. But instead of gutting it, my actions just seemed to make the ghoul angrier. It slipped both arms around my defenses and bodily flung me away. I was once again airborne, and the breath exploded out of me as I landed in a heap. Okay, yeah, that one had hurt.

Before the ghoul could escape, though, Scott pounded at it. He kicked out, catching the ghoul's bad leg and knocking it aside. The ghoul collapsed on one knee, and Scott roundhouse kicked it in the face.

Braeden popped out of the tunnel, hesitating for a second before leaping across the canal. Then she leveled her shotgun. Scott dodged an angry swipe but got nailed by the return, backhanded hard enough to go staggering away.

As soon as the Scott was clear, Braeden's shotgun thundered, and she pumped shot after shot into the ghoul. Where as Argent's bullets had done widespread damage, opening up the abdomen and chest cavity some, Braeden's shots were small bursts of specific damage. That was okay, though, because she was using the shotgun shells packed with Narcissus powder.

Argent had created the wounds, and Braeden applied the Narcissus. That was, I believe, what Stiles liked to call "poetic justice."

The ghoul bellowed, using a tone that I found wildly familiar. It was furious, blinded by pain and rage. I knew exactly how it felt. Struggling to its feet, the ghoul flew at Braeden. It was fast, which meant its leg was already healing. Braeden's eyes widened slightly, but Derek tackled her from the side, driving both of them just out of the ghoul's reach at the last second.

With its intended target suddenly gone, the ghoul came to a stop, frantically windmilling mere inches from the edge of the canal. It cast a look behind it, and as I climbed painfully to my feet, I didn't miss the expression. Fear. The ghoul was afraid of water.

I looked around. Argent was just now starting to stir. Derek was unnaturally still, Braeden plucking at his shoulder in worry. Scott was dragging himself upright, trying to get himself between Braeden and Derek and the ghoul. He wobbled upright, a determined look on his face. But Scott was ready to protect, not kill. Scott didn't know how to kill. Which left...me.

I blew out a breath, the world slowing down around me. Brain spinning as a plan formed. Then I refocused on the ghoul. Yes. I knew what I had to do. And I knew how I was going to do it.

My fists clenched at my side, and I set my feet, grinding them slightly into the concrete. My body tensed, and I gave the ghoul a toothy grin. Then I did what I do best.

I ran.

I ate through the distance between me and the ghoul like it was nothing. It tensed, ready for me to slash like I'd done earlier. But I did no such thing. Instead, I used all the momentum I could gather and smashed my body into the ghoul's, driving us backward.

For a second, we hung suspended in the air, and then we went crashing down into the water.

Icy water flooding around me, sucking the very warmth out of my bones. Instantly, our two struggling bodies were sucked under, pulled deeper by the currents. The ghoul convulsed underneath me, clearly in the throes of panic. It confirmed what I'd just decided a minute ago: the ghoul didn't know how to swim.

Of course, neither did I. But I'd known that going in. The ghoul hadn't seen this coming.

The water sucked us along, but a second later, the ghoul's back slammed against something hard. My hands smashed into the same thing, and I realized we'd run into the metal grate. My lungs ached, reminding me that I was trapped underwater with a savage monster that was still trying to kill me. Even as I thought it, the ghoul lashed out, driving a fist into my chest. The water slowed the blow, but it still made air bubbles explode out of my mouth. They streamed up my face, blinding me for a second, and kept going upwards.

The current smashed me against the ghoul, leaving very little room to struggle or maneuver. A pounding started in my head, and my lungs screamed at me then, telling every fiber of my being to get some air.

Interestingly enough, that was when I had a moment of clarity. My shaggy hair haloed my head, and I saw the ghoul right in front of me. It was convulsing uselessly, ugly black blood bubbling and frothing madly from its stomach and chest as it clawed at me and the bars and the water. So the Narcissus did work. That was cool.

The urge to open my mouth and suck in a breath nearly overwhelmed me, letting me know time was precious. I watched for the ghoul for the barest of seconds before I opened my mouth. Only I didn't breathe.

No. I waited until the ghoul's hands were out of the way, and then my fangs went tearing into its neck.

Hot blood streamed up around my face, and I couldn't see. The ghoul let out one last muffled scream, streaming bubbles and blood into the water surrounding our heads, and then its struggles faded.

It was dying, and we both knew it.

I tried pushing away, knowing I wasn't far from joining it if I didn't get some air. But, vindictive until the end, the ghoul latched onto me, grabbing my shirt and one arm to keep me from escaping. Soon enough, I was too tired to fight it.

My body was crying out for oxygen, but I had none to give. I couldn't even see which way was up as my vision blurred in and out. Using the last of my strength, I broke free of the ghoul. It had stopped moving, and its arm drifted away from my own. I was free.

I kicked out, searching for the bottom of the canal. But my body moved sluggishly, and I was once again pressed against the metal bars. I reached out with a hand, brushing the bars as I tried one last time to get somewhere other than where I was. Not knowing which way was up, I made a last ditch effort, choosing a direction and using the bar to pull myself further. My foot hit something. The ground. I had chosen the wrong direction.

I blinked, head feeling like it was exploding. This was it. I was dying. I'd done my job, though. I'd made it so the ghoul couldn't hurt anyone else. Made it so Derek wasn't dead. I could accept that. I'd done something good.

Water thrummed around me, loud and quiet at the same time. My mouth opened, and I couldn't help but breathe in, inhaling nothing but water. It was peaceful now, even though I knew I should be scared. I was numb, and that wasn't a bad feeling.

Something hard wrapped around my stomach, burning hot against my bare skin as my shirt rode up. It yanked, and suddenly I was moving. I closed my eyes, too tired to care as peaceful darkness enveloped me.

The peacefulness didn't last.

I came too, feeling like bands of iron were wrapped around my chest and like I couldn't breathe. There was pounding on my back, and when I starting spitting up putrid water, I realized I was half draped across someone's lap. And they were slamming my back painfully. I coughed and spewed water, spasming sharply, and finally the pounding stopped.

I lay where I was, shivering and hurting. Cold and wet. The most horrid combination known to man. Or coyote. Whatever.

There was a hand resting on my shoulder now, and it blazed warm against me. I might have argued about the touching thing, but I was too tired, and actually, it felt good. Well, it did until I realized who it belonged to.

With slow movements, I was eased onto the ground on my back. When warm fingers brushed the sopping strands of hair out of my eyes, I opened them up. A figure wavered into view above me.

"This is becoming something of a habit," Peter said, his voice was kind of sarcastic, but his face just looked kind of worried as he dripped water on me. His hair was wet, and his shirt was practically adhered to his upper body, showing off his chiseled physique. Soaking wet. He'd been the one to pull me out of the water, then. I tried to move but only ended up setting my lungs on fire with a cacophony of wheezing. More sewer water dribbled out the corners of my mouth. "Easy," Peter murmured, hand settling on my chest. "Breathe." His hand was a beacon of warmth that I could focus on, and the light pressure actually made it a little easier to calm my breaths.

After that, things began to trickled back into focus around me.

Braeden and Argent were kneeling on either side of Derek. He was in bad enough shape that they both had to get under his arms and hoist him up. Then they headed out, Scott limping after them.

Peter looked down at me. "I don't suppose there's any chance you'll just get up and walk?" he asked. I blinked at him, shivering as I tried to remember how to even move my arms and legs. He let out an exasperated sigh. "Didn't think so." But his movements were infinitely gentle as he eased my arm over his neck and pulled me to my feet, directly contradicting the apparent annoyance in his voice.

I would have liked to say that after a while, my fatigue wore off, so I started walking independently. But honestly, even though some strength did come back, I remained glued to Peter's side, greedily pressed against his warmth. I hated being cold and wet, and Peter could alleviate one of those factors.

While we walked, my mind wandered. The ghoul was dead. That meant no more dead bodies. No more ambushes. No more violent fights. No more killing. No more Narcissus powder. I was excited for that one.

It seemed to take forever to reach the opening we'd dropped down through. I guess maybe Peter went slow for me, because by the time we reached it, Scott and Derek were already out and Argent was helping pull Braeden up.

Peter detached me from his side, and I slumped against the wall with a shiver. He jumped up and caught the edge, pulling himself up easily. His chest disappeared, then his legs, and finally his feet pulled out of sight.

I stood staring up at the hole, wondering if I could jump that high in my state. In the end, I realized that was the only way out of here, so I got a shuffling start and jumped. My fingers caught the edge on the first try, and I pulled myself up as I high as I could.

I got as far as one arm and elbow over the edge before my muscles decided to stop their upward movement. I hung there for a second, and then Peter leaned over the edge and looked down at me. He made no move to help me, even though I clearly needed it.

"Seriously?" I grunted, using my annoyance to cover up the fact that I was really, really tired and barely hanging onto the edge. "Why are you even here?"

Peter grabbed my wrists with a snort. "If you haven't noticed already, I don't exactly have a lot of family left," he said, hauling me all the way out of the hole. Except, he didn't stop there. He got me on my feet and brushed off the worst of the grass and debris clinging to me.

"Yeah, well, Derek's safe now," I grumped, embarrassed to be so needy in front of him. "You can go home."

"I wasn't talking about Derek," Peter said quietly, meeting my eyes square on. His tone wasn't sarcastic or biting. He just stated it like a fact. I stared at him, and he met my gaze unflinchingly.

My mind ground to a halt as I stared. He wasn't talking about Derek. But that meant... It couldn't be. That was ridiculous.

No.

No, no, no. It couldn't be true. Even as I denied it, though, all the little pieces fell together.

Lydia's sour face when she'd said "Henry's not…" right after I'd called him my father in front of her.

And Peter's random obsession with me. The long glances, the weird comments when I'd first met him. "Beautiful eyes," he'd said. "Did you get them from your father?" He'd known. He'd known this entire time.

Plus, I'd continually felt a vague sense of familiarity when I'd seen Peter. Now I knew why. We shared some of the same features. High cheekbones, strong jaw. I felt like a fool for not having recognized it before.

I glanced around in horrible desperation.

Scott's eyes were full of silent apology. Apology, not denial.

Argent flicked his gaze between me and Peter, slow understanding crawling across his face.

Braeden just looked unnerved.

And Derek. There was no shock, no slight widening of the eyes to show he was surprised. There was just resignation. He'd known. He'd known this entire time. They all had. Derek, Scott, Lydia. And, if Scott and Lydia knew, then obviously Stiles knew.

Peter was my father. The concept was so truly absurd, it couldn't have been anything but true.

Peter. No. I didn't even like Peter. Why was he my father? That...that wasn't even the worst part though. Everyone had known. Everyone had known. But no one had told me. Why hadn't anyone told me? Why, why, why?

My chest exploded with pain, comparable only to the time when my heart had literally stopped. A breath shuddered out, broken and gasping. Derek looked up from where Braeden was holding him upright. "AJ," he said, low and pained. His hand reached out towards me, just a little.

I shook my head, suddenly mute, as I stumbled backwards. God, the pain was a fresh, just like when Henry had abandoned me. Had given me up. Had betrayed me. It had hurt coming from Henry, who meant very little to me. But this was from Derek, who meant everything to me. And coming from him, the hurt was magnified a hundred times.

"AJ," Derek called a little bit louder. But I was already turning, tripping over my feet to get away. I had to run. I needed to run.

Coyotes are loyal to the death. And everyone around me had lied, had hidden the truth from me. Agony swamped over me. I'd never experienced so much pain that wasn't actually physical in nature.

I headed towards the woods, not knowing where I was going. I just ran.

The pain was hot in my chest, driving me faster and faster. And that was when I felt it.

I'd had a dream on one of the first few nights of staying with Derek. I'd been in the car with my mom and sister. The moon had made me turn, but after the accident, I hadn't stopped in my half-form. I'd shifted all the way, an action born of desperation and a nine-year-old's mental anguish. It had been a coping mechanism, I realized. And now...now I needed it again.

The hot pain in my chest spread, leaking into my spine and my legs as I ran. I stumbled and came crashing to the ground, all my limbs losing coordination for a second. Staggering to my feet, I shucked off my torn and stinky shoes. Then my shirt. Then my pants. I left everything behind, as my body started to contort and twist and heave.

And then I was running, faster than I'd ever run before. Everything was in shades of gray, sharply defined as I streaked along, low to the forest floor. My paws hit the ground in steady rhythm, and my mental anguish faded away like dust shifted by the wind.

I went faster and faster, breath huffing comfortably in and out of my chest. Air rippled through my fur as my paws churned up forest loam. Home. I was home.