Stiles yelled in frustration, throwing his phone across the room. Two days since the funeral. Two whole days and still no contact from Scott. Stiles just couldn't believe him. He understood that Scott was mad at him, but to leave him on his own on the day of his dad's funeral? Stiles would never have done such a thing. Groaning he threw himself back on the bed, pressing the palms of his hands into his weary eyes. This was one of the rare moments when he was alone in the house. Lydia had to talk to her mom about something, and Stiles had assured her that he'd be fine, practically pushing her out of the door. It wasn't that he wanted rid of her, quite the opposite, but he wanted her to be able to get on with her life like usual, he hated feeling like he was dragging her down. So, he told her he'd be fine. He wasn't fine. Every time he closed his eyes images of his father's dead body swam across his vision. Every silence was filled with the sound of that phone call with Malia. It kept replaying in his head, and he analysed it over and over, wishing he had kept her talking just a little bit longer. If he had, maybe he would have gotten there in time to stop her. Giving up on resting, he sat up slowly, his gaze drifting to the investigation board.

Lydia had cleaned up all of the papers he had thrown on the floor, and they now sat in a neat pile on his desk. He stared at it for a long time. It probably wouldn't be healthy to start obsessing over this, but then again it would distract his mind, keep him from driving himself crazy. He needed to be doing something. He made up his mind and hobbled over to the other side of the room, picking up the pile of papers. In a rush, he sifted through them, pulling out the ones he deemed important. With the reduced pile now gripped tightly in his hands, he walked towards the investigation board. Piece by piece, he assembled a new investigation on the board. However, this time the end goal was not to find someone. His end goal was revenge. The drawing of the dread doctor that Lydia had given him was taped right in the centre of the board, and branching out from it in all directions were possible ways to take them down. "Okay," he spoke quickly, hyping himself up, "time to be Batman." He spent at least two hours working on his plans, scrapping plan A and making his way to plan F before he was happy. When he heard the front door open he jumped up, scrambling around he grabbed a bed sheet and threw it over the board, not wanting Lydia to think he was going mad.

To his surprise, the person that came crashing through the door to his bedroom was in fact Liam. "Stiles?!" The boy looked around wildly before focusing his gaze on the startled boy before him.

"Liam? Wha- hold on how did you get into my house?" Stiles stared sternly at him, causing Liam to squirm guiltily. "Liam?"

The boy looked up at Stiles with wide puppy dog eyes, "It was important and you weren't answering the door. So I picked the lock with my claws." He held up a hand and wiggled his fingers.

Stiles smiled, "Impressive, I'm just glad you didn't break the door down."

Liam beamed, but suddenly seemed to remember why he was there, a much darker expression taking over his features. "Stiles, we got a problem."

"What, besides the three maniacal doctors, many many killer chimeras running around trying to kill us, and the horrible failure that is our lacrosse team this year?"

Liam rolled his eyes, "Stiles this is serious."

"Right, okay. Sorry." Stiles laughed as he replied. It was nice not to have Liam tiptoeing around him like he almost always did these days.

"It's Scott."

Stiles frowned, turning his back on Liam, "What about him?"

"He's missing."

"So?"

"So you need to get over your stupid argument and come help find your best friend. He got taken Stiles."

Stiles' frown deepened, and he took a step towards Liam, "Taken? Taken by who?"

Liam gulped, "The Dread Doctors."

The whole room started spinning. Liam became nothing more than a simple blur in the distance. Stiles couldn't believe what he was hearing. After everything that had happened, after Malia had killed his dad to protect the pack, they had still taken one of them. And Scott of all people. Suddenly everything came into focus, and Stiles began shaking his head, determination evident in his every move. "No. Nuh uh. This is not happening again. I'm stopping this once and for all."

Liam stood in the doorway looking highly confused. He clearly thought that Stiles had finally lost it. Who could blame him, looking at the wild eyed boy as he rushed around his room muttering to himself about plan c or plan e, and which one would work best. Finally the kid had had enough, and he interrupted his crazed friend. "STILES!"

Stiles snapped to a halt, staring questioningly at Liam, "What?"

"What the hell are you doing?"

Stiles walked right up to Liam so that there was only a few inches between their faces. "I'm getting ready for Plan G. But first I have to finish making Plan G, because I didn't see this coming." He moved to turn away, but froze mid turn. Ever so slowly he looked back to Liam, who looked thoroughly freaked out.

"What? What is it?"

Stiles pressed his lips together in thought, before putting a firm hand on Liam's shoulder. "Liam, I need you to do something for me. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't really important, but I don't want you to do it unless you want to. But it'll help save Scott."

Something sparked in Liam's eyes and he spoke quickly, "Anything, just tell me what to do."

Stiles nodded and explained the plan to him.

An hour later Stiles was racing along on Scott's motorbike, which he had 'borrowed' as a part of Plan G. On the bike, it only took him ten minutes to reach the site where the old Hale house used to be. Taking a few steadying breaths, Stiles parked the bike and switched off the engine. The silence it left was smothering, filling every corner of the woods around him. His heart was beating so fast he feared it might break a rib or two in its palpitations. Doing his best to suppress his anxiety, he began walking towards the spot Malia had told him to go to. With each step, his feet began to feel heavier and heavier, as though begging him to turn around and rethink what he was doing. But then he would think of Scott, and what might be happening to him every second that Stiles wasted thinking about turning back. Scott was his brother, he wasn't just going to abandon him down there. After a huge internal struggle, his brave side won, and he climbed down into the dark, dripping passage way.

The cold mixed with the damp air set him off shivering straight away. Each step he took echoed along the slimy dark corridor. For a while, all he could see in front of him was darkness, and all he could hear were his footsteps and his ragged breathing. But then a deep mechanical voice interrupted the rhythm, and Stiles came to a halt, straining to hear what was happening. If he really listened hard, he thought he could hear Scott struggling against some sort of restraints. The voice was cruel, taunting it's prisoner. "Is that how you treat all your friends, Scott? Abandon them? Leave them alone when they need you most?" The sounds of struggling grew and Stiles could hear Scott beginning to growl. "Stiles needed you and you abandoned him. Your pack has fallen apart. Which is why I can take you, without breaking my promise to the werecoyote. I promised not to hurt her pack, but she doesn't have one anymore." Stiles let out a small gasp in shock, realising what he had done. It was his fault. By banishing Malia from the pack he had negated his dad's unwilling sacrifice. He had endangered everyone. A mechanical laugh sounded from down the hall, and Stiles forced himself to listen once more, "Yes, you abandoned Stiles, but for some foolish reason, he refuses to give up on you. Stiles would never abandon you. How stupid of him."

Before he knew what was happening, someone had grabbed him from behind with a vice like grip, one hand pulling on his hair, the other pinning his hands behind his back. He struggled against them with all his might, but they were freakishly strong, and forced him to walk down the corridor. The sounds of his scuffle must have reached Scott, because he spoke up, addressing the dread doctor. "What was that?"

The doctor simply repeated what he said before. "Stiles would never abandon you."

"What does that mean?!" Scott renewed his struggles against his restraints. Just before Scott turned wolf in frustration, Stiles was forced around the corner, wincing under the grip the other doctor had on his hair. His lip had been split in the struggle, and was now swollen and bleeding freely.

"It means," Stiles gasped, "that there was no way I was leaving you down here on your own."

Scott looked incredulously at his friend, eyes still glowing red. "Stiles? What are you doing?"

Stiles laughed through his discomfort, "I'm here to save you, what does it look like I'm doing?"

Scott chuckled, "Not that."

"Well I could just leave-" Stiles tried to move but the Doctor behind him tightened his grip, causing a gasp of pain to shoot out of his mouth.

The one who appeared to be the leader spoke up. "Not possible."

Stiles stared at him, analysing the Doctor's behaviour. Eventually he spoke up, spitting out blood before saying, "Okay then, well how about a trade?"

Scott jolted in his restraints, "Stiles what are you doing?"

"Shh! Come on, what do you say? A trade, Scott for me? Good deal right?"

The doctor tilted its head at Stiles, spurring a series of clicks and whirrs to escape his metal suit. "Not possible."

Stiles rolled his eyes, adopting an almost whining tone, "Well why not?"

"We have studied you Stiles. You have no supernatural ability; you are not required for experimentation. You are useless. Not possible." The doctor signalled for the other, the one holding Stiles, to take him away. Stiles began shouting and resisting, knowing that trying to get out of his grip would be useless.

"You're wrong!" As soon as he said it, the doctors froze, with the leader slowly turning to face him. Silently, the creature advanced towards him, its metal feet making a loud clanging noise against the ground.

When the Doctor was directly in front of Stiles, face pressed right up to Stiles's, he spoke again, voice slow and calculated, "Not possible."

Stiles adopted a smug expression, smirk on his lips, "Are you sure? Cause I'm pretty sure you're wrong." After he had spoken, the Doctor paused for a moment before grabbing Stiles by the throat. The creature lifted him into the air, cutting off his air supply. Flailing desperately, Stiles managed to gasp out a few words. "Check... my... arm." The second Doctor acted immediately, pulling on Stiles's arm, jolting it painfully. Wasting no time, the creature pushed up his sleeve to reveal a bleeding bite mark on his lower arm, that was already showing signs of healing.

The dread doctor dropped the boy, "Recalculating." Stiles rubbed his throat, glancing up at Scott. His best friend was staring at him in horror, shocked into being still, no longer struggling against his bindings. They held each other's gaze for a moment, before the Dread Doctor spoke up once more. "Offer acceptable. Scott, you are free to go." As if on command, the restrictions holding down Scott retracted into the table, leaving him free to get up. Ignoring his own safety, Scott ran over to Stiles, helping him stand up.

"Stiles what have you done?"

"Made sure that they won't hurt you. Scott I know what I did was wrong, and this isn't me asking for forgiveness because I don't deserve it. But I couldn't leave you here. So now it's my turn to be Batman, and you get to be Robin. And a Batman always saves his Robin, so get the hell outta here." Stiles tried to push him away, but Scott held onto him.

"Stiles I'm not leaving you here. How did you even manage this?"

"Plan G, sure-fire, fool-proof idea."

"You know what I mean, who did this?" Scott grabbed his friends arm and inspected the bite.

"If I tell you, you have to promise me not to hold it against the person. I asked them to do it, made it sound like I just wanted the bite. Do you promise? Scott?" Stiles stared down his friend until eventually he gave in.

"I promise."

"Alright. It was Liam. He was really uneasy about doing it, but I managed to convince him. Make sure he knows this isn't his fault. This was my choice."

"Stiles- I'm sorry, I should have been there."

Stiles looked into his friends eyes, searching for something. Whatever it was, he seemed to have found it, for he smiled encouragingly, saying "Tell me later Scott. Now get your ass out of here before I throw you out myself."

Scott took a few steps back, shaking his head in denial. "I'm coming back for you Stiles, with everyone. It's all gonna be fine Stiles! I'm getting you out of here!" His shouts died away as he was forcibly removed by one of the Dread Doctors. Stiles turned to stare at the room, walking around and fiddling with all of the different, painful looking instruments.

"So uh, what sorta experiments are we doing here? Sciency stuff? Oooh do I get to use a Bunsen burner? I love those things!" He clapped his hands together, turning to face the doctors with mock enthusiasm.

The leader took a step forwards, distorted voice setting an itch off inside Stiles's skull. "We will monitor the changing process. We will conduct biopsies. We will experiment with the gene pool. Dissection may be necessary. Experiments may result in condition terminal."

Stiles gulped, "Well that doesn't sound so fun."

And then they grabbed him, forcing him back into the restraint bed Scott had been sitting in minutes before.