were (you)

by bhanesidhe

• question everything • Bestfriends Scott, Stiles & Lydia were struck by tragedy when trapped in a car accident that took Claudia Stilinski's life. Scott & Lydia were rescued from the crash, Stiles body was never recovered. Traumatized & grief-stricken, Scott & Lydia drift apart until 6yrs later when a Monster descends on Beacon Hills. [AU]Were!Stiles Playlists @ 8tracks/bhanesidhe

16. stealthy

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Track 01 - Werewolf by CocoRosie

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{Friday: Late Night - Argent's House, Westwood Neighborhood, aka Dante's Inferno}

The study of Chris Argent was surprisingly sane looking, comforting even for a holding cell. Wrapped around with floor to ceiling bookcases, wall sconces and a fireplace, dotted with pieces of Indigenous art each probably had secret meanings. There were paneling and cabinets and narrow artsy curtained tall out-swinging bay windows that reminded a little of bars but provided air and escape if necessary. Dark wood tables lined the walls with locked drawers, focusing attention to the massive desk in the center carved of darker wood that may as well have been black metal. Even though there were several couches, they were all made of leather and with high backs and didn't scream of comfort.

The place may as well have read 'old-timey interrogation room'.

But with the move of a footrest here and removing of a coffee table there they would have no problem putting together makeshift beds.

"Is there anything more tragic than being a rebellious teenager," Stiles said followed by a deep sniff beside one panel, "stuck next to a locked liquor cabinet begging to be broken into but not being able to get drunk."

"Stiles," Scott chuckled, "leave it alone."

"Do you think he'll really lock us in?" Isaac asked.

All three stopped (poking and sniffing) mid-inspection.

"Nah," Scott said finally although he sounded reluctant.

"He's probably more likely to put a guard dog," Stiles comforted and Isaac dropped to one of the chairs in defeat.

After a few moments more of admiring what Scott thought was an Aboriginal's relic but turned out to be Allison's 3rd grade art project, Stiles interrupted warily.

"What exactly are we supposed to do next?" Stiles reminded. "What's the plan?"

"Make up the beds," Scott suggested lamely and pointed to the bedding he'd left stacked on a chez lounge.

With a lack of options left to them they did exactly that until Stiles' Samsung went off. He leapt back in shock, as if he could get away from the very sound then a moment later, clutched his chest in relief and realization. A facetime alert popped up on his screen requested from Lydia's phone. Scott and Isaac hovered over his shoulder as he accepted. When he opened the app Allison's face filled up the screen.

"I'm not sure how long this phone will last," she explained Lydia's dying phone and the suspicions of her watched one. "Lydia is with her Mom still but when she comes back, we'll be ready to go, will you?"

"Yes!" they each answered instinctively in their own unique version of enthusiasm.

"Wait?" Stiles finally figured. "What does that mean?"

"You guys need to get up here," she rolled her eyes, "how else are you going to break into the secure room on the second floor?"

"Right," asserted Scott as if that were obvious then added after a pause, "how are we supposed to get up there?" a comment to which Allison silently stared.

"Oh, right," Isaac looked to Scott and nudged him hard in the side "we can do that" sneaking into her bedroom window was a thing they've had experience doing.

She sighed at their failure to catch on, "but you realize you need to get over on this side of the house without walking around the house," her tone began to get exasperated.

"We'll climb up and over," answered Stiles catching on quickly and Allison nodded, pleased someone had their thinking cap on.

"How can we be sure we're not going to be seen?" Scott worried.

"It's okay. Everyone is at the Lodge," Allison assured them, "well almost everyone."

"And we'll be stealthy," Stiles bragged with a grin.

"Sneaking into the girls' bedroom is the easy part of the evening boys," she teased. "It's all downhill from there."

"What else?" after a deep breath Stiles asked.

"One of you has to check the first floor to see if anyone's left in the house," she explained that if one person wandered around it could just as well look like someone trying to find the bathroom. But being 'precious-daughter-in-resident' she couldn't do the same and come off as innocent.

When no one was quick to volunteer Stiles spoke up, "Alright, let's settle this like adults; rock, paper, scissors."

In the end their verdict came down that Isaac would go.

"What's next?" Scott asked of Allison.

Amused by their antics she almost forgot the urgency "right-" and the phone gave off a warning blip that it would die soon. "Never mind, I'll explain the rest when you get up here. Just take your time. And most importantly-" as she paused for effect and the boys drew close to the screen "don't get caught."

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Track 02 - Brother Song by Circa Survive

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Calculating the fact that Mr. Argent had left the main house, it implied there seemed to be some grand convergence at the Lodge which could mean acting right away would be foolish eagerness or taking advantage of the best time available.

As Stiles shoved the phone into his back pocket, he touched the rolled-up notebook he had prepared with desperate annotations. They burned to be explored. It wasn't until he turned back to his friends, to incite them when he realized he had been oblivious to the tension building up behind him.

"I think I'll head out to check the halls," Isaac said quietly and went out through the sliding doors.

"What's going on Scott?" asked Stiles crossing the room to his best-friend's side.

"If you needed help," Scott asked finding his voice, "why did you come here first instead of to me?" He mostly looked to the ground when he said it.

"You wouldn't have had the answers I needed," Stiles said reasonably or at least he thought so.

"Are you sure?" after a weighty length of time Scott brought his gaze to meet Stiles' but he wouldn't answer.

Instead, he tried to smile and made a few noises that were close to scoffing but were the sort of sniffle a pup makes when it's trying to find food around a bowl, searching but not exactly settling. He tried for the usual dismissive and charming thing he had going for him, but it seemed to go sideways with Scott and upset him instead. Even when he sat beside Scott atop Chris' desk, something they both knew would have probably gotten them shot, the tension wouldn't dissolve.

Their long-standing tension grated on, with fingers gripped into the molded edge of the desk and heads bowed, they waited for the worst to pass.

Scott pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply- Stiles could sense the unease from him like smoke on a breeze.

"You looked like you would have hurt me if I opened your notebook," he explained. "Not that I would have opened it."

"Come on, Scott. I'd never-" he lied and realized Scott would sense that. "It's not that easy. This is stuff that has to do with my pack. It's-" unconsciously he'd bought the notebook out in front of him, he twisted it in his grip "-stuff in here is private information, stuff that's not mine to tell."

"I get that," Scott felt a little ashamed. He'd skimmed it unknowingly once before when searching through his unearthed backpack what seemed like a lifetime ago, but he didn't understand it's content, certainly not it's value. He couldn't even bring himself to look at Stiles and take full force of the on-coming declarations.

"Nah, I don't think you do." Stiles stood taller, carrying the confidence Scott lacked and stepped around into Scott's personal space, forced him to look straight forward. "So, what? Isaac is here. And I mean having him back is great, he's this walking talking piece of home. But Dad is unbelievable every minute feels like a miracle. And you and Lydia feel like this craziness of finding pieces of me I never knew were missing. But my pack they were taken, I just-I just lost them! Do you even get that? Like I just lost them?"

When he realized his voice rose, he dropped it, he tapped the notebook against Scott's chest for emphasis when he spoke not with meanness but from nerves. Together they breathed slower, and Scott tried his best to listen harder.

"I just lost my pack and I'm afraid I might forget them, the sound of Boyd's laugh or Erica's horrible driving, Cora's wild mood swings and the way we just worked together. And you don't get it. You can't get it because with a pack I'm just strong. I felt it. In my head, in my nerves and without them I feel a little nuts, I feel weak. So, I miss them, and I want them if I think I can find even one of them. What if looking for them is just some act of pathetic desperation or maybe because if Isaac made it-Cora could be alive out there, she could be killing people and probably about to get killed." He took a beat and to watch Scott's face in hopes that he could understand. "'cause Allison's a Hunter she kinda knows these extreme effects. But you, you can't. Right now, her help is what I need because I can fill a hundred fucking notebooks but it's not enough."

Nearly before he ended his outburst Scott reached forward and pulled Stiles stumbling into a hug.

"Maybe I can't- maybe I won't ever know what it's like to be part of a pack, but I know what it's like to feel weaker without you, man. You don't have to show me any notebooks, but I promise you I'll be here if you want to talk, about them about being back, about being apart from them, about family, about lacrosse-" said Scott sweetly and Stiles laughed at that "whatever man. I'm not just here to be some guy you're figuring out how to reconnect with."

"You're my day one," Stiles pulled back and with the hand not holding the notebook he put it out for Scott to clasp.

"Ride or die," Scott vowed and clasped it in return.

They withdrew and wandered over to the couches, Stiles feeling all the more exhausted for the emotions that weighed him down. Even he hadn't realized how much grief had been weighing on his mind. He had been caught up in the euphoria of reconnecting, in the adventure of relearning Beacon Hills, he hadn't given himself space to understand, space to feel out what it meant to be without his "Big Family"

"Scott," he said holding the notebook in one hand and smacking it lightly into the palm of the other. "I think Derek is really dead." He finally admitted to himself and looked to Scott in weary helplessness.

"That really sucks," Scott nodded slightly, proud of his friend and stayed ready to listen as he went on.

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Track 03 - Things That Were by Lakyn

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{Argent's House, 1st Floor/Behind Stairwell, next to The Den, 5th Ring of Hell}

Returning from the Gardens she witnessed him, skulking through the (smaller and lesser used) hall around the back of the main stairwell, sneakier and circumventing the dining which led through kitchen, yet somehow not only had Scott failed to escape of the house through that passage but Isaac decided to cock it up as well.

"You've got to be kidding me," snapped Lydia, yanking him from where he hid behind a closet door too small for him. He'd only just avoided her Mom as heading up for the night. A few seconds earlier and this would have been a very different, much terser conversation.

"So much for ninja school," he tried for a joke, but she did not laugh.

"If you were looking for a place to hide there was a bathroom one door down," she pointed out the better option.

"Ah," when Isaac turned to take note Lydia already moving around. She trekked the long way around through the den to head up the stairwell via the main entrance just to avoid Isaac. So, he rushed after her, vying for her attention "can I ask you something?"

"Technically you just did," she called over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs, "what is it you need now? Fake marriage? Do you want to move in next?"

He winced at her reference, "I wanted to apologize for all that. Your Mom confused me for your boyfriend, so I just went for it."

"Why?" she paused and turned around to face him, her voice turned deep and considerate, as though she needed understand.

"What explanation could I give for turning up here? I couldn't say I just snuck out of Allison's bedroom," he lowered his voice.

She stepped down, nearing but her poise alone could have crushed him, the sense of her upset vibrated but the way with which she bit her lip said she would sooner cry than strike him down.

"So instead of lying to cover your ass you had my Mom do it for you," she forced out the words.

"Lydia I am so, so sorry," he thought about every time she shouted at him for stupid little reasons, and he never deserved it. He figured karmically it rippled back to this moment and he deserved it only instead of exploding into hysterics she nodded quietly and slowly. He felt awful.

"I get it," she said calmly. She glanced around the room as she considered a thousand options as if they were mounted to the walls. "Just don't do anything, anything that might piss her off."

"Never!" Isaac insisted.

Lydia turned to start up the stairwell once more and Isaac foolishly took a chance "thanks, for everything."

"No," she said vicious and spun around. She descended two steps and looked murderous once more, a god lording over him. "Don't you dare thank me. What you did to my Mom is one thing, but how you keep screwing me over is another. Is this how it is with you? For a little bit of attention, you're handing over your precious pack members as easily as you pass the salt? Now, you're taking advantage of my best-friend just because she shot you before you could ambush me. She should have aimed for your balls."

"Lydia, you're right... but actually you're completely wrong. I want to work with Allison because we just want to work together. And you act like you've never screwed me over," he sighed and came to the foot of the stairwell. The glare she gave him warned if her tried ascending she would kick him back down. "That's not at all what I wanted to say. You and me, you know we're friends."

Lydia lifted her chin, offended by the statement.

"Come on, you know we are," he slowly smirked. "I'm going to ask for your forgiveness now and I just want you to think about it. And then say yes because I'm not going anywhere, okay."

Lydia said nothing but her expression softened, and she looked mildly amused.

"Okay?" he insisted, tried for that first step and his hand lightly skimmed over the banister.

Lydia's brows came together with intrigue as she stared at his foot in 'I dare you' fascination then brought her eyes back up to his face. Isaac backed down the one step but kept his hand on the banister.

"I'm sorry and believe me, I will make this up to you," he smiled.

Lydia spun around and ascended, her hair made a wave through the air dismissing him as much as smack to the face.

"We're going to be okay," he called out after her, his tone smug.

"Lover's quarrel," the familiar voice of Victoria Argent said from the small hall behind the main stairwell. Isaac stiffened and assessed the situation.

Unless she had super hearing, from that distance the most she could have gotten were tones, especially since he and Lydia were at virtually whispering tones. Still, being on high alert was better than not.

Used to slipping into role of fake-boyfriend, Isaac naturally played off frustration as embarrassment for getting caught. When he responded with "I got lost looking for the bathroom," she practically burst out laughing at him.

"How 'bout I get you boys some more blankets instead," she offered him a better excuse.

Throughout smiling awkward glancing, she escorted him around and back to the study, "do I need to lock you boys in while we're outside?"

"No ma'am," Isaac insisted with a strained smile, "we'll be on our best behavior."

{Argent's House, 1st Floor, Chris' Study}

"All clear," Isaac announced settling a new blanket onto a couch. Stiles and Scott sat beside each other on one of the creepy high-backed couches and they blinked, startled at his reentry.

"It sounded like you ran into someone," Stiles asked looking up.

"Yeah," he explained "Allison's Mother."

Stiles looked at him with an incredulous expression that Isaac would consider that 'All-Clear'.

"But she said something about them about going back outside," Isaac shrugged, "so I think we're good."

"Is that all?" Scott asked. What he meant was what else had Victoria said only Isaac interpreted it differently.

"Yeah, Lydia's still really pissed at us."

The room went deathly still.

"Okay," Stiles finally dared to speak, "I vote we wait a while before we sneak out to meet up with the girls."

Slowly Scott and Isaac raised their hands, voting in agreement.

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Track 04 - Run by Daughter

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{Argent's House, 2nd Floor, Allison's Bedroom}

"Don't you think you're being a little hard on them?" asked Allison from where she'd camped out at the foot of her messy bed.

"Please, don't you think you're being too easy on them?" responded Lydia from the depths of a messy closet.

"What do you mean by that?" Allison twisted at the hip to follow her friend's warpath, where clothes were yanked into the 'vaguely approved' side of the closet or toward the 'possibly on a desperate day' division or onto the 'must be tossed into the pit of despair' pile in a corner by the night table (which had grown disturbingly bulky).

"What I mean is, if only one of them has boyfriend privileges why do they all have access to your bedroom window?" she answered flippantly as she pulled out the only acceptable option among Allison's collection of Skater dresses, a midnight-colored chiffon number to stick with their burglar theme. She turned around and looked to Allison for approval and received a grin.

"Would you care to elaborate?" asked Allison impatiently while Lydia feigned disinterest and continued stripping off her pajamas and slipping into the dress.

Lydia walked to the full-length mirror and seemed dissatisfied at the final product. When Allison reminded of accessories drawers tucked in the lower right of closet with flick of finger Lydia disappeared once more. Sufficiently sated she bothered to continue.

"I mean," Lydia said smoothly, "I bet you still haven't thought of what is going to happen if your parents find out you're dating a Werewolf. How about when 2 more turn up unannounced, you just let them stay for dinner and gave them a place to sleep?"

Finally, she reappeared smoothing out the lines of her figure through a dark waspie belt she wrapped around her waist. Her expression displayed equal satisfaction over her statement and her outfit.

"Ask yourself one thing Allison, what quantifies a pack of Werewolves?" she came over, sat beside her best-friend, and said a little kinder. "And then think; how is letting Werewolves underneath a Hunter's roof going to lead to anything other than a nightmare?"

"Lydia," Allison said a little harshly, "this isn't a dream. These are our friends in need of help, what do you think I should have done?"

Their hands were beside one another's on the edge of the bed and Allison's eyes drifted to look at their shared rope marks from the night before, even if their bruises healed their bond wouldn't break.

Even without Werewolf advantages Lydia sensed Allison's upset. She had been too harsh when Allison was only frightened for their friends and of her choices. Allison was of course more than a little right, Lydia wouldn't have been so harsh if she didn't care just as much.

"Come on, Allison. All you have to do is take one moment to think. Then just don't change a damn thing," she said sweetly.

Allison laughed lightly, her earlier anxiety forgotten.

"You shouldn't let anyone tell you what to do, not even me," Lydia said primly. After a quick squeeze to Allison's hand, she hopped up off the bed and started a search for boots.

"That said Lydia, maybe remember when you take a minute to listen it means you can change your mind if you want to," Allison advised and Lydia responded with 'hmm' while she scoured under the bed, careful not to confuse the leather strip of a weapon for the leather strip of Wellington Boots.

After slipping onto the chair beside Allison's desk, Lydia zipped a pair of black ankle boots firmly on and gave her best-friend a look that warned she wasn't above hair pulling.

"And what exactly do you mean by that?"

"What I mean is, our friends, your friends-" Allison brushed her hair out of her face for focus and dark eyes stared with intent, drawing Lydia in with each word. "They will jump through hoops to keep that privilege. They're not Jackson. They're not your Dad. So, when they disappoint you it's alright to be mad at them and it's alright to get over it too."

With eyes narrowed Lydia leaned forward and said in a threatening tone, "I don't like your insight."

"But you didn't say that I was wrong," Allison leaned forward as well, flashed a smirk broad enough her dimples may as well have been tattoos.

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Track 05 - Hush Now (feat. Tina Grace) by Fink

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{Argent's House, 2nd Floor, Meeting/War Room, 7th Ring of Hell}

With no subtlety at all, Stiles dove through the bedroom window and barrel rolled across the floor. After pulling her to her feet Allison shoved Lydia behind her. A less than amused Pomeranian leapt to his feet at the head of the bed and barked sharply until it recognized the intruder, then he growled disgruntledly at the foot of the bed while overseeing the arrivals. With a lot less noise and action Isaac and Scott hopped onto the windowsill and jumped down onto her bedroom floor.

"Are you kidding me?" Allison smacked Stiles on the shoulder as he came to stand. "You're supposed to be quiet."

"Hey!" he grabbed his shoulder in not-quite feigned pain, "everyone else had a chance to sneak-in. I wanted a go."

"I'll go," Scott offered to help and didn't laugh at all, not even a little, nope. "I'll check the door and see if anyone in the house heard." With that he hurried off, Allison followed. She figured between his super hearing and her super subterfuge skills, that is her ability to lie to her parents on the spot, they would probably work best together if someone did come to the door. Isaac moved to lock the window and close the curtains.

With nothing to do but hover in the room's center Stiles relied, of course, on witticisms and comments to still his nerves.

"Nice outfit," Stiles quipped, Lydia had been worriedly staring after Scott and Allison when she swung around to face him, a lot fiercer than he had expected. Well, he'd never been known to think his comments through, why start now. "Is that your interpretation of burglars' costume?"

With a tilt to her head, she analyzed him, hands on hips, lips pursed, and brows furrowed slightly. After a moment of trying to pick apart the witticism from criticism she gave him a barely perceptible nod.

"Is that yours?" she smirked. He nodded and with a grin pulled up his hood, yanking the strings tight enough that only his nose showed. While shaking her head, she gave a little huff noise in an attempt not to laugh. Sensing her amusement, Prada came to her end of the bed, nuzzled at her hand until she pet him and she shushed him kindly.

"Alright guys," Allison started explaining once everyone rejoined "tonight is actually ideal for breaking into the 'Meeting Room' because Roman and Norm have been moving things around the rooms up here all night. In fact, they're in there right now, shifting things over from the guest room."

"Explain how that's ideal- like does the definition of ideal have a different definition for Hunters or something," Stiles started in after struggling to pull his hoodie down.

"It's ideal because how frequently the door is used is monitored and catalogued-"

"So, while they're going back and forth, no one is paying attention to us," Scott drew the conclusion.

"Exactly," Allison smiled and clasped her hands in excitement that things were finally beginning.

"Since they're trying to do things while the houseguest are out of the bedroom, and my Mom is in the shower at the end of the hall getting ready for bed, so this has got to be their last trip," Lydia explained they'd been transposing things from the guestroom to the Lodge.

"Whatever has been too big or difficult and can't make it to the Lodge without being seen has taken temporary housing in the Meeting Room," Allison explained their several trips hadn't been enough but getting it out of guests way was paramount.

"But once we (air-quotes) turn in for the night (air quotes)" Lydia emphasized they, as houseguests were the biggest obstacle, "they'll make their last trip to the main house. They're moving at pretty steady pace of 30-45-minute intervals. Once my Mom gets out of the shower we have our window of opportunity, it'll be the last excursion before lights out and it'll be a last attempt. They might be done for the night and not come back to the house at all but if they do," she shrugged easily with the lazy cat-like confidence "we'd still have 30 minutes once she heads to bed. We don't have to worry about waking her up, once my Mom is asleep, she's dead to the world." A detail Lydia knew for a fact since her Mom has slept through her screams before.

"I ran into Allison's Mom earlier and from the amount of food I saw her packing to take back to the Lodge her those Hunters aren't coming back anytime soon," Isaac added his two cents.

"So right, we have our window of opportunity..." Stiles listed.

"Well, then there is just the room's security. I have the code to get in. That's the easy part out of the way. Then there is the pressure sensitive mat. Once you walk in there is a 5ft by 5ft pad on the floor that monitors people or peoples coming in," unconsciously Allison mimed gestures of each thing she described, her energy kept her moving.

"No Problem. We just scaled the side of your house. Twice in one night," Isaac pointed out.

"And you got caught," Lydia interrupted.

"I'm just saying I'm pretty sure we can jump over a carpet square," he finished.

"Lydia can't," Scott pointed out.

"And I won't. Once the door is open someone has to step on that square or alarms go off. If 5 people go across it, it will be logged and suspicious. But 1," she grinned.

"Buut," Stiles hesitated, "you do realize that makes you?"

Lydia rolled her eyes at him, "it makes me the fall guy, I know."

"Wait, what?!" Scott's voice rose in alarm and then he repeated himself quieter.

"Someone, preferably not a Werewolf has got to walk in and be catalogued and walk back out. It'll be fine, we have 30 minutes that's plenty of time," she said directly and pushed for them to move on.

"There is a hiccup about getting out of the room; it's a complete blind spot. Because there is no cell reception in there, there is only PA system. There is one ID camera, it looks directly into the hall showing a live feed aimed at the linen closet. The room has soundproof walls, between the codes on the doors and the short narrow halls there is no way a lookout would work. Getting in is the easy part. Getting out safely with 100% certainty is impossible," Allison virtually bristled with anxiety.

"Which is why we need a fall guy," Lydia insisted.

"Nope," interjected Stiles, literally jumping to his feet despite already being on his feet. "It's a bad idea. Correct me if I'm wrong but just because Lydia isn't a Werewolf that doesn't mean she isn't the sort of anomaly a Hunter would love to get their hands on."

"So how is a fall guy different from bait?" asked Isaac, trying to keep track of too many mixed emotions over too many conflicting theories.

"Because Isaac, I don't aim to get caught. What about you?" Lydia stepped toward him, dipping her head low directly into his line of view. "Are you going to mess this up or do you have me covered?"

"I'm happy to cover you," he said quietly and after a moment broke into a cheeky grin and Scott coughed lightly to interrupt.

Lydia shook her head in agreement and went back to the topic at hand. "The thing is we can't move on unless we agree on everything. The plan won't work otherwise."

"You guys won't be able to go out the same way you came in," Allison picked up, "because there is no way to know if the hall is clear. But there is another way I think might work."

"You think?" Scott stepped nearer to her hoping to help secure her by taking her hands, he wasn't the only one hearing her heart bang around.

There wasn't a way in words to explain her burning conflict, how with each step she had to chip away at another layer from her family's trust; she would open the door but couldn't imagine giving away the code, she would share the documents but would never give over access to the closed servers but creating a safe way out would leave her family's 'Meeting Room', what was by definition a 'safe room' permanently vulnerable.

With Scott's fingers locked between hers she felt reminded of the trust they shared. And felt imbued with a faith they had in one another even throughout the mystery they've shared, she looked to her friends and made up her mind.

"There are air vents. There is one barely wide enough, if dismantled and pulled away from the house we could climb out," she didn't mime with her hands exactly although she drew the shape of the vents through the air.

"Will it really be big enough?" asked Isaac, subconsciously hunching his shoulders low as he considered the prospect of climbing through a tunnel in the wall, something he found terrifying to begin with.

"I'm working from memory," Allison assured "but we should be able to climb through one at a time. It's less than 2ft or 3ft of length between the concrete inner wall and the outside of the house. Once you're outside it should leave us right above my Father's study so you can drop right down, I'll just need your" and she looked to Scott and squeezed his hand for emphasis "all of your strength to dismantle it."

"While you're doing that, I'll just wait until Allison comes back and holds the door open for me then that's it, everyone back to their respective corners," she had displayed such clean-cut corners in her mind's eye she even gestured as much with her hands, leaving her hands in a teepee.

Scott squinted in disbelief but unsure as to what, Isaac rubbed his lower lip and Stiles began to work his jaw in preparation of a master-rebuttal.

"I would just like to remind you," Allison put her hand up, in as delicate defense as her tone, "they're leaving now. Our window opens in seconds. If you have questions or doubts now's the time or you don't have any. Got it?"

"If we only have 30 minutes, shouldn't we all know ahead of time what to expect on the other side of the door?" Scott asked openly.

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It was Allison's turn for her face to pinch in discomfort, for her brows to furrow in thought, "there are smaller rooms to the right. Less rooms more like booths. They're filled with our archived notes. That's going to be everything from a copy of the Sheriff's reports to forensic imprints of every footprint and tire track of every murder scene since these Beacon Hills County investigations began. I'm sorry," she shook her head in apology glancing from Isaac to Stiles. "There is no way going to be time enough for you to go through everything."

"How many booths are there?" asked Stiles, already calculating his plan of action.

"Three," Allison ticked it off on her fingers. "The first are our hard copies. The second is our sealed server. The third is the bathroom which is our exit route." She shrugged knowing Stiles would make a face of discomfort at the idea of climbing out by way of the bathroom. Admirably he didn't, instead he made a shriveled noise.

"What about the server?"

"That's not going to be any faster," Allison explained. "it's a sealed server in faraday cages. It doesn't connect to the outside world; it never has it's just an archive of every case every logged by any Hunter we've ever been in contact with. Ever. So, you can either compare your map through our server or through the investigation files but, Stiles." She reached across and touched his shoulder lightly as if she were frightened, he would shatter, "you're going to have to prioritize."

Including the dog, they all jumped at the sound of a door opening further down the hall. Allison waved for all of them to move out of view from her doorway and stand beside her closet. They listened as a door closed and jovial voices spoke quietly and moved away from them.

When they'd gone far enough away Stiles broke the spell with a whisper, "Scott?"

Scott glanced over his shoulder from where he hovered beside Allison as they inched forward around toward her bedroom door.

"Scotty, do you think you can read my chicken scratch and go through the hardcopy files with Lydia?" he asked reaching over Lydia's shoulder to hand over his notebook.

Lydia glared back and forth between the two through her discomfort at nearly getting smacked in the face, Scott (normally rather sensitive to others around him) ignored her and focused on Stiles' confident but anxious face.

"Yeah man, I got it." answered Scott, taking the notebook, and hugging it to his chest like he'd guard it with his life.

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Track 06 - Earthly Pleasures by Villagers

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{Argent's House, 2nd Floor, Meeting/War Room, 7th Ring of Hell}

Allison advised Lydia to walk through the door quickly and move as far to the side as possible.

"Why? Is it rigged to explode? Allison, you swore to keep me safe, are you having me walking over explosives?" she ground out in a whisper.

Allison jabbed out the password into the door's lock. She made a thoughtful expression and her hand hovered over the doorknob for a moment which caused Lydia's uneasiness to move from her chest up to her throat.

"Walk on explosives, no. Just trust me on this," Allison patted Lydia on the shoulder as she pulled the door open, "take your time but walk as far out of the way as you can."

With a huff Lydia tossed her hair over her shoulder and did exactly that. It wasn't a moment later when Scott came barrel rolling and skidded to a halt not 2ft from her. Lydia jumped back, decided she wasn't far enough back to put a multitouch table between them. Grinning Scott remained on all fours facing the door as if ready to engage an enemy when a second blur came speedily into the room, a little faster and when it looked as if Stiles would slam into Scott, he ricocheted off the ground into the air like a hand ball. He landed laughing behind Scott and came to a stop only after rolling on his back. Prodding at each other and joking as they climbed to their feet.

Although mildly impressed Lydia felt mostly annoyed. She prepared to lecture the both of them when a third body of motion vaulted through the door like a competitive long-jumper. Isaac stuck both feet with a thump and rolled forward onto one knee and stopped his momentum with fingertips. Whereas, with the movements of an ice skater, Allison took a silent and concise jump over the patch on the floor and pulled the door close behind her.

"Now, what the hell was that about?" Allison gestured around the room, toward each of them as they wandered curiously around the panic room turned family's Meeting Room.

"What, you said it was soundproof in here?" Scott responded innocently enough.

"Not until the door is closed," she snapped at them. When the realization occurred to them, they stared back and forth looking for someone to blame.

"Guys," Lydia reminded with her arms spread she leaned on the edge of the table in the center of the room, the booths just behind her, looming reminders of their task. "Do any of you remember how much time we have?"

.

The room wasn't barren so much as it was sparse. It was in every way a contrast to how Mr. Argent kept his study downstairs. There were no bookshelves and no art. There was no warmth or personality to it at all.

On the wall to the right were the floor to ceiling booths as promised, looming and severe in structure. On the left mounted high along the wall was several monitors showing live feeds of cameras all over the property. Just below was a kitchenette fully furnished with all the trappings of canned food and bottled water. Not to mention stove tops, refrigerator, water heater and yet another generator.

On the wall with the door, they'd just passed through were mounted a few dropped down beds and attached amenities, like pillows, blankets and even slippers. On the wall across from the door they'd passed through, where windows should've been, the outline remained but another code lock decorated the far-right corner where a "Caduceus" medical emblem suggested it would have opened up to reveal medical supplies.

In the epicenter was a long slab of Multitouch table, oblong shaped with benches instead of chairs. The top was made of dark Touch Foil interactive glass surfaces in places with dark wood, similar to Chris' intimidating desk. An ideal place to put things like weapons, from a massive medieval battle axe to a rocket launcher.

"That is an axe," Isaac announced to the room, for the fourth time.

"Yes," Allison soothed and pressed him forward as kindly as possible, trying to move him beyond his shock.

Finally, he made eye contact with her, bright wide eyes barely remembering how to blink "why is there a battle axe?"

"I don't know," she shrugged and continued to push him to the other end of the table. "That's probably because my Godfather likes to collect things."

"But the AT4 Anti-Tank Missile launcher doesn't rattle Isaac," Stiles shook his head toward Scott, and Scott in turn had trouble taking his eyes off the missile launcher. Sympathetically, Stiles patted Scott's shoulder and tried to remind him they'd made it to the other side of the table, the long, long table. For now, everything would be okay.

Lydia huffed and shook her head, annoyed. They rolled and flipped around them not moments earlier but noooo now they had to stare and whine. Not that she felt particularly comfortable. She made certain to stand out of the rocket launchers line of sight and hugged her arms to her while she glared and tapped her feet in annoyed anticipation.

"You do realize what this means is that they're coming back for these last items," Allison gestured to the small pile of arms left on one end. With that everyone snapped to attention and hurried to their tasks.

On the one side Lydia and Scott buried themselves, entombed in the archived files to the booth on the right wall. While on the other end furthest from the door, Allison stood shoulder to shoulder to shoulder with Stiles and Isaac and plowed through data at the head of the table.

.

The reluctance Allison previously expressed to share her families deepest darkest was abandoned. In fact, Isaac was loathed to admit it, but he was reminded this is what it felt like when he and Lydia were rushing for a quickie, inhibitions thrown to the wind. Except there were now 5 of them. It was frightening to see Stiles practically skid the long way around the table to Allison's side while she opened up the monitor on the farthest end away from the weaponry. She opened up displays while he whispered, "ooh, what's that? Ahhh, what's that? and that? wassat? wasatwastatatandat" into an indecipherable murmur that she seemed to find a little annoying but only a little.

Grateful to his God-given height Isaac hovered where they leaned to the task, but his height did little to give him advantage to their speedy skill at picking apart the images and articles that slid by without any regard to his feelings.

"There," Allison's hand reached across toward him and under Stiles' blockade of a head. Isaac followed her direction curiously when a monitor bloomed to life under her touch.

"Follow along sasquatch," Stiles muttered, "otherwise why are you here?"

He wanted to have something clever to say but the screen hypnotized him. It wasn't space-aged as he had anticipated touchscreen to be. It was just a computer but, on a table, when he tapped a box, a folder popped up like any other and when he double-tapped a folder it opened. Admittedly he went through them a lot slower than his accomplices at least he could manage to learn something he hadn't before-Kate Argent wasn't as much of a liar as he wished she had been.

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Track 07 - The Night Starts Here (demo) [The Bedroom Demos] by Stars

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"You look in your element," Scott tried not to make it seem mocking but Lydia, kneeling in a space the size of a closet tearing through a cataloged decimal system that may as well have been called Dewy with how easily Lydia cracked it.

She smiled but didn't look up as she unlatched another cabinet and pulled out another envelope, reviewed its content, frowned, and tossed it back. "You think I should be a Librarian?"

"I think you should be a spy," he leaned down to whisper conspiratorially while struggling to keep hold of folders she already gave him.

She looked up in disbelief at first then battered him back as she moved to stand, "what's next on the list Secret Agent McCall? That's as many missing persons as we're going to find."

He gave a distant expression at the title of Agent McCall but answered her request anyway. "Mauled murder victims for the last 6 months," he answered narrowing his eyes into the overly worn composition notebook.

"He has got to be kidding," Lydia said indignantly, her hands on her hips she aimed her fury straight through Scott at Stiles. "What does he hope to get out of that?"

"I don't know- could you try to find the last 3 months at least," Scott compromised hoping her upset would subside.

She stepped back in confusion, grateful she didn't suffer claustrophobia as her back hit the cabinet wall. "What's going on Scott?" her infuriation with the boys ended with Stiles and Isaac. She had a silent understanding with Scott, whether they were indifferent with each other, hated or loved each other, all of those things they hadn't figured out yet, they trusted each other, "Stiles didn't ask for that. Why are you asking for that?"

He twisted around his mouth until it turned thoughtfully lopsided, then he shifted all the files under one arm and held the notebook in the other. But how he held it up, so that he could read, at an angle that made it impossible for her to sneak a peek as he read off the names of the dead.

"Alright, alright." She shuddered and rubbed the hairs on her arms back down.

"Maybe if he sees they aren't on the list he can feel a little peace," Scott pulled the notebook down.

"Why go back so far?" Lydia asked quietly.

"Maybe if he sees other people have lost their families too- I don't know, maybe he'll realize with everything we can do, we can do more," he mumbled as he went along, the weight of his word, the way his lips came down from their pinch and eyes looked up waiting for something to give him a break already.

"Hey," Lydia said, gently rubbed his arm then pulled him toward her "here's all your crap." And she dumped the manila envelopes out for him to catch. She grinned at him in a quick reminder that he wasn't factually in this alone. "And here, the one you forgot to ask for."

"What's that?" Scott asked, he was forced to take a step back or fall back.

"The Derek Hale file," she smacked it on top with emphasis. "Now what's next Super-Secret Agent McCall?"

.

"Stop me anytime you like guys," Allison reminded, her tone growing tighter by the minute "this is your family we're picking apart."

"Sure, it's not yours," Isaac added wittily, after Allison came just short of a smile she went back to task. "Hey so I've got the report on the fire from 11 years ago."

Together they shifted to see what Isaac pulled up on his side of the screen and crushed Stiles only a little.

"It's sealed and signed by my Grandfather but it has a document attached," she was able to drag it across to her screen. She double-clicked the document attached. "This is the write up of the Hale Fire from the other day and it's still open assignment so don't touch it. I said don't-" she smacked away Isaac's hand mid-reach. "-don't touch it. My Aunt Kate unsurprisingly is writing this one up."

"I can only imagine what that's going to read like," Stiles muttered, he sounded like he'd just eaten gravel and washed it down with lemon juice.

After their commiseration in the kitchen, she recalled sitting across from each other in the Diner. She wasn't Werewolf and she couldn't read heartbeats or smell the acrid smells of deceit, but she could make out her Aunt's tells.

Around the fire in the Lodge, her side of the Argents played poker. The Lodge was all about Axel and Axel was about poker. Maybe Kate was a master at manipulation, but she wasn't much of a poker player. Turning up places she wasn't meant to be while abandoning your post wasn't exactly playing your cards 'close to your chest'. A flippant Leader would cost Hunters lives in the end. Sure, she walked around like a Queen, whatever game she played but Allison saw dissension in ranks. All Kate did was bluff, or at best she had three of a kind. But when Allison looked around the table at her friends, she saw a Full House.

If she were a betting person, not that she was into that sort of thing, she would gamble on her friends against Kate without a doubt.

After a pause "Here," Allison tapped her Aunt's name and it illuminated. After holding down her name like a button several options lit up and she selected "these are all the reports Kate has been writing up, editing and viewing lately. All her recent activity in one go. Any of interest?"

"Can I?" Stiles asked eagerly, his eyes were over-bright. He wasn't sure which he felt more eager for, devouring the information, or touching the glowing tabletop. Allison felt no guilt, only willingness to raise the ante. Instead, she silently shrugged her compliance and stood back as he literally hopped to it.

"Is it possible to check and see what she's deleted?" Isaac loomed, trying to get in on the action. Allison pushed him back.

"It's a closed server wrapped in a faraday cage," she gestured for Stiles to tap on the most recent report "once anything is physically brought into this site it's locked up tight and archived, we can check every existing notation. It looks like the most recent update to her report... wasn't her, it was Tyhurst. He noted terrain and proximity reports to the Hale House-"

After a long pause she repeated, "Tyhurst." She said his name with a small amount of derision, "is perceptive and obsessive but he doesn't have anything in here about there being a circle of ash and mistletoe around the property. Or the presence of Trailing White Monkshood."

"You say that like he stole your lunch money," Stiles scanned over the notes as if he could see something she possibly couldn't.

"He wouldn't have missed details like that," she smacked the surprisingly durable table.

"Maybe it just hasn't been written in yet, or maybe it wasn't there by the next morning" Isaac played devils' advocate even he didn't believe his own words.

"Or maybe mistletoe eating slugs came up from the netherworld and sucked it all away along with your last remaining brain-cells," Stiles said with all the straight-facedness he could muster, which was surprisingly a lot.

"Of course," Isaac continued talking over Stiles, physically as well as verbally, "maybe someone tried to hide the evidence of it."

"Like maybe the murder," Stiles grumbled, finding it easier and easier to flit through the display screens on the tabletop.

"That doesn't bother you?" after a contemplative moment Isaac asked.

Hunched to their task of scouring through the many pages of the Hale House Fire investigation, old and new, Allison and Stiles hardly noticed any rise of strain.

"What doesn't bother me?" Stiles snapped, at him with barely a glance up.

"We're just going through this-" he gestured to their investigation, "while there is still a murderer running around?"

Taking into consideration what Isaac grumbled about Stiles looked around; Allison beside him, accustomed to pouring through investigations, hadn't bothered stopping. Only she looked to the analog clock on the wall, to the two next to her and then back to the many screens under her nose. In a space that could flatteringly be called a closet Lydia and Scott pawed through drawer after drawer and page after page of documents that helped give answers to another person he valued just as much as Derek. Hell, they even mattered more depending on the day. He thought about his Dad, the Sheriff, and his investigation board in the kitchen he'd rush to cover up every time Stiles came in for a Coke. He thought about his own notebook, scribbled nearly front to back and what point there would be in stopping.

"It bothers me," he answered solemnly. "For now, there are better qualified people chasing the murder. But they've only got pieces of the puzzle. Right now, I can't stop a murderer Isaac, but I can solve this puzzle piece, okay."

With a furrowed brow Isaac chewed on his lip and stared hard at him until Stiles broke away and went back to work.

"There," Isaac pointed out from his window screen, something he had found easily on his first try "the evidence item list from the old Hale Fire investigation."

"What about it?" asked Allison as both she and Stiles looked up to him.

"Notice something familiar," he jabbed a finger at the offending item, not realizing it would enlarge it but once it had Allison let out a breath. A moment later Stiles dropped down onto the table the original, not the photographed replica, identical in size and shape down to the Triskele emblem. "Peter Hale's Zippo lighter."

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Track 08 - Skeleton Key by Love Inks

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"That's an interesting Triskelion, Celtic Reconstructionist." Lydia observed as she placed an armful of folders onto the tabletop diagonally from them. Three heads popped up to meet hers, so she continued to address their unwavering stares. "This one is revised from its original context due to Neo-Druidism," she remembered Stiles mentioning the symbol once already and had to know, "Does this mean something else?"

"Yeah, actually, this one is like the symbol to our pack," Isaac reminded and slid the Zippo toward the center to the table.

"It's also the incendiary device used in the original Hale Fire," Stiles added.

"Kate gave it to Isaac the night at the Diner," Scott clarified settling several rolls of documents down beside her along with Stiles' notebook. "At least it's authentic."

"How does proof from the first Hale Fire verify Derek's death?" Lydia glanced at the offending item and to answer her own question, she went back to her task.

"Because of this," Stiles opened the gold-plated Zippo made container and let the claws spill out. Allison looked intrigued while Lydia looked on uneasily.

"And you want to know if those are Derek's?" asked Allison, she moved further right from between Isaac and Stiles, and toward Scott and where the claws had splayed out. She pulled the poseable arm of an overhead halogen lamp, and it swung low for better inspection. "Those weren't listed in the autopsy evidence list."

Isaac touched his screen and pulled up the list to verify his concern, "and that has been signed and sealed. Of course, by Kate."

Allison stood abruptly, not in disbelief of him but to bring up a screen for Scott to follow along.

"Do you think she didn't log them because she was always going to steal them?" asked Scott as he grasped to an inkling of hope.

"Or did she steal them from some other poor bastard's cold case, like she ganked the Zippo?" Stiles cynically crushed out that hope a lot quicker than he had expected.

"I don't know," Allison grimaced as she shook her head, both were equally plausible and harder to disprove than she had anticipated.

"They're his," Lydia answered.

Almost as if to have materialized at the head of the table between Allison and Stiles, Lydia stood worryingly still. Diagonally across the table her meticulously organized investigation files lay abandoned with Scott. Aside from her teleportation bit, nothing had changed which left everyone in silent alarm.

Slowly Scott came first to himself, "Lydia what do you mean?" he asked as the room watched on. If she felt their eyes watching, she gave no sign.

Stiles kept his fidgeting to a minimum by crossing his arms tight to his chest.

Isaac competed with the overhanging lamp, craning his neck to examine along, looking intently.

The fingers of her left hand aligned with a set of claws perfectly, as if they could fit onto her fingertips. Scott recognized her familiar gesture as Lydia reached and extended her fingers slowly only to stop short.

"Lydia?" Allison called to her softly but didn't reach out to touch. Her voice startled Lydia awake, nonetheless.

"The man I found murdered that night, those are definitely his," she snapped her fingers shut tight and brought them down to her side.

"Are you sure?" asked Isaac, quietly but coarsely as he scooped the claws back into their encasement. Stiles looked from Lydia to Isaac with a glare of warning, then back to her with concern.

"If she says she knows then she knows" Scott confirmed¸ he didn't understand fully, so he stuck to what he did know, "Lydia was there right after he died."

.

Like a bad taste in her mouth, Lydia couldn't shake the sense something had gone off wrong.

Someone asked in a whisper if she were okay, and she shook off their concern or she could have imagined it. Everything sounded a little underwater but a little louder too.

"What happened to the good ol' days in mobster movies or spy movies, when you'd ask for proof of the body and someone would just show you a pic or video," Isaac mumbled and pinched the bridge of his nose in strain.

"Ah, right!" Super-Secret Agent Scott McCall remembered his assignment "we have got photos!" He shuffled around some map rolls and pulled out a manila folder from among a pile. "From the Sheriff's department," he raised it in the air in recognition of the night when Allison stole them "the crime scene photos."

Since discovering other Werewolves and the existence of Hunters, Scott learned new meanings in the faces of his friends; Allison's strained smiles and far-off looks meant she was occupied with thoughts of her family and not just thinking of the next lie. The newly discovered tight-jawed, press lipped expression Lydia meant overwhelmed or excited but too stubborn to admit it. Every expression Stiles made should have felt new but didn't, instead felt like slivers of reflections the sort of images that caught in the corner of your eye, alien and familiar all at once. He had just gotten used to seeing Isaac as some Zen master, only he finally understood the veneer kept the guy barely strung together minute to minute, breath to breath.

While watching Isaac's face, Scott couldn't keep the heartbreak from his own face as he handed the "Derek Hale" folder over. Scott wondered whether the information within would give Isaac peace or send him spiraling out? He worried a little less for Stiles who looked a bit green at the gills but uneager to look at the photos. And why would he have to he had gotten confirmation enough from Lydia-

"You don't want to be sure for yourself?" she said not exactly quiet, but her voice hadn't gained any exuberance.

"A Banshee's confirmation," Stiles managed to unravel his arms from their straightjacketed-like bind across his chest. He brought his hand down beside him, his right down to meet her left, to steady her trembling unseen between them, "is more absolute than the torture porn cops can come up with."

The words Stiles had said to Scott, collapsed in the back of Kate's SUV after a long dark night a lifetime ago last night, explained not just anyone could access those claws - "Anyone attuned to a level of the universe normal people can't hear."

Allison looked to Scott, she gestured with palm up and a clasping mannerism that said, 'what now?' She wanted to be of use and was unaccustomed to being helpless. From her fretful glances from the analog clock on the wall back to Scott, it was obvious they were running low on time. Their access to the Meeting Room had been like catching 'lightening in a bottle' and aside from sneaking them in the once she wasn't sure what more use she could be. He could only shrug back in helpless reply and slip his fingers through hers to steady her calm; they had a good 15 minutes left.

"Jeez," Isaac couldn't stop looking through the photos and the Sheriff's department's vague final report. Funnily enough with each reread it helped calm his nerves some to finally have confirmation, to have some closure. "Who would- why would someone actually do this to someone?"

Allison sighed, took to motion, and pleased to have something to do she stretched across the table and brought up a textbook illustration in a display screen below Isaac. "Well, the only legitimate reason to perform hemicorporectomy is to prevent using their body later on to-"

After letting out a sharp gasp that Prada would have envied, Lydia cut through Allison's demonstration. Hell, she nearly cut clear across the table, while she leaned half-onto the table pushing Stiles back as she snatched the folder and spilled its contents all over. "A translumbar amputation?"

Before Stiles ventured a guess, he figured he may as well ask "can someone please, in twenty words or less, tell me what that means?"

As they all turned to Allison for an answer, Scott really regretted he was able to read their faces so well "it means he was cut in half."

To confirm as much they looked through the photos, then to one another and back down to photographic evidence of the brutal death of Derek Hale.

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Track 09 - I Found A Reason (Velvet Underground Cover) by Cat Power

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"Isn't it weird how it can 'not look as bad' as you thought but look 'worse than you thought' at the same time?" Isaac went back to shifting through confirmed images of a Triskele tattoo and the blank stare of his mentor's hazel eyes made immobile.

Thankfully, there weren't many. Derek's death had been closed out by the Sheriff's department early on. Animal damage had left the evidence far too deteriorated to be workable. Of course, that is not what the group saw when they sorted through them.

When they went chasing Stiles through the woods Scott had seen these photos briefly, very briefly once before and hadn't enjoyed it very much. From his recollection, Lydia had been so intently looking toward the woods she hadn't seen them at all. And now-

"That is not how I found him," Lydia glared at the photos then abruptly dropped them.

"What do you mean?" asked Allison as she scrambled to keep the photos from falling off the table.

"What the hell does that even mean?" demanded Isaac while he tried to keep his nerves in-check.

"So, something came afterward and tore him in half?" Scott asked, he noticed unlike him she was less bothered by the gore. It seemed adrenaline kept Stiles' nausea in check as well, or maybe photographic gore wasn't as potent.

"That is not made by an animal. That is an entry point. I know because it is where I saw the stab wound that killed him," she jabbed at a close up to the chest cavity.

Stiles reached across to Scott and made a gesture, a demanding finger coiling that silently said, 'give me back the notebook.' Scott slid it over as quick as possible, and Allison passed him a pen she pulled from the railing attachment to the table.

"So why would someone do something that messed up?" asked Isaac. No, demanded Isaac in a low voice that would have been a growl under vastly different circumstances.

"Like I said, a 'Hemicorporectomy'," Allison reminded, she pushed aside papers Lydia left askew and manipulated a display on the tabletop just beside Stiles' notes. He flashed her a smile something close to gratitude to have something to do with his restless hands, as he moved them along both the coroners' report and the Hunters' report on what the coroner missed. It agitated him a little that the notes were sealed.

"Someone especially does this to an Alpha Werewolf," Allison continued, "when they don't want them brought back from the dead. Whoever went back to stage Derek's body definitely wanted to make it look mindless like the rest of these quote-un-quote recent animal attacks."

Despite their clarity and ability to widen the resolution, Stiles leaned onto the smooth tabletop and narrowed his eyes "someone lured us, captured and tortured him before they killed him."

"Tortured?" while the others wavered at the word Scott was brave enough to inquire after it.

"Derek's Werewolf metabolism had been slowed due to reoccurring precision high voltage currents and he'd been exposed to environment extremes," Allison leaned over the table and reviewed the report beside Stiles, after reading it she disliked Tyhurst's notes. Mostly for the infallible accuracy and succinctness. "Basically, someone had been freezing him and electrocuting him repeatedly for days until they finally did this to him."

"Jeez," Stiles stood up to rub his face in aggravation.

"Lydia?" Isaac asked sensing something wrong just before it happened, which Scott felt as a wave of vertigo before he saw her sway. Responding to both their warnings Stiles turned and gripped her arm before she fell backward.

"You're just falling apart aren't you," Allison teased trying to make light of the situation while she pushed the bench beneath Lydia.

As quick a bullet, weakness shot through Lydia's limbs and went straight right up to her teeth.

"I could have stopped this," she stuttered wide-eyed, with fury and on the brink of tears. She found volume with each slow spoken word, "I saw them doing it, I dreamt about it- when they tortured him, I felt when they froze him." She looked to Scott for backing up and when they locked eyes he remembered.

Allison searched Scott's face for reassurance, but he had none because he remembered what happened in the Chem lab. When he caught Lydia up and she felt icy in his grip as she nearly passed out from the effect. That pained going through her had been so powerful he had nearly changed.

"My nightmares, Allison," Lydia's voice climbed in volume, as distress drained the color from her face. She looked tired of being silent but unknowing of what to say or how to say it. Allison remembered that expression from the mornings when Lydia stayed over to hide from bad dreams, "I had nightmares over and over but didn't do anything."

Allison gulped and inched gently closer, "that's not how it works." She remembered her promise to protect her best-friend, but she had no clue what to say. She couldn't just fix her, as much as she wanted to, and when she reached forward to touch drifting strands of her hair Lydia flinched.

After a deep breath Allison braved on, "I was next to you in the woods when you felt like your head would crack open," she dropped onto the bench beside her despite the fear Lydia would pull away she caught hold of Lydia's hand and held fast. "While he ran for his life you ran for his life too. You did the best you could without knowing what to do."

All Isaac could remember of that day was running track on dirt roads and fighting Scott, fighting uncontrollably although he knew better. He wondered if he couldn't control himself because he shouldn't have been controlling himself, because some part of him heard a call to fight back and he had wasted it, wasted his energy on rolling in the dirt. Isaac took a step back and looked away. The thought became too large it filled the room.

Lydia sat further upright, she tightened her jaw, fortifying herself against the memories but she radiated instability. All that held her together while the memories came rushing back were the words of encouragement from her friends.

"Lydia, I saw it. I held onto your hand then like I'm holding onto it now," Allison brought her hands together to clasp Lydia's left hand, gently as if she could guide her to safety.

"It's not up to you to fix everything Lydia," Scott's calm kind voice seeped through while leaning just over Allison's shoulder. "That's why we're all here." He gave a small shrug that reminded he was vulnerable as well. He looked around the table to each face and reminded, "not one of us can fix any of this on our own but we can make a difference together."

No one had to speechify the promise of 'you are not alone'. In fact, the words aloud were too new and would ruin the prospect of moving forward together but they were together and needed to move forward within a window of little time.

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Track 10 - Kids (MGMT Cover) by Lady Danville

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A cloud of coulda-shoulda-woulda surrounded Stiles' mind as he touched the photos Lydia had just released onto the tabletop before him, a most unappetizing meal. Turning his head to the left and right, despite the fact he could not teleport into the photo, Stiles focused on the areas around the body, little details familiar to him more than anyone else.

"Derek's dead. How could I have been that close and not have known?" the frustration showed like pain across his face.

Perspective snapped her out of self-pity and Lydia recognized a familiar guilt reflected in his face. "Because whoever did this didn't want you to know," she assured him. "They masked it."

"They knew Hunter stuff," Isaac reminded, "like her" he looked to Allison who stared back looking wounded. He hadn't meant for it to sound accusatory but with his Alpha dead, again, his mood darkened. He sighed, shook his head to rouse it up from senseless thoughts but by then Allison had turned her attention back to Stiles.

"At least one culprit knew how to obscure like a Hunter," Allison corrected, her ambition for solution pushing her onward. She touched the photo along the lines where Lydia had and reminded. "One suspect killed him with a single precision stab through the heart and disposed of him in the middle of a clearing. Another suspect performed a messy hemicorporectomy, failing to make it look like an animal attack while masking the area in a Mountain Ash concoction. My family has theorized there is more than one killer for a while now. This just proves it."

With a rekindled look in his eye Stiles snapped to it "they aren't working together. This was a mistake, a stress response. That's why the time gap between Lydia finding him and when he got severed. Cutting him in half wouldn't have mattered to the Sheriff's department but it would have mattered-"

"To other Werewolves," Allison smiled a little at her realization, gratified at progress although not pleased at the bloodshed. "But you guys didn't even know what the specific message of cutting a shapeshifter him in half meant. And as far as anyone knew Derek's pack was disbanded so who would it send a message to?"

"I don't know, I don't know, I don't know!" Stiles broke away from the table, he gripped handholds of his hair as he paced a circle. "Wait," he hopped back to the table, "can we come back to this? You said your family has thought for a while there was more than one murderer?" to which Allison nodded.

They cleared the table; Scott grabbed back up his folders and Isaac pocketed the Zippo and collected Derek's file, Lydia grabbed Stiles' notebook before he knocked it off the table and handed it back. Allison minimized every useless screen and opened up a topographical map. Stiles flipped through the pages of his notebook and came to a scribbled version with red, chicken-scratches marking murder sites.

"These are all the strange deaths or missing persons we've been assisting the Sheriff's department with forensics and clean up, whether they know it or not," she explained.

7 yellow X's lit up along the North end of the Highway in Beacon Hills. Stiles nodded in concurrence with his notes. Stiles' scribbled map murders/deaths lined-up, with the exception of an outdated 1.

"Now, here are our other investigations without local law enforcement," Allison added a tad smugly and instead of watching the screen she watched for Stiles' reaction as 6 orange X's lit up all throughout Beacon Hills County.

Lydia clasped her hands in front of her and no longer questioned all of her nightmares. Stiles didn't hesitate to take notes while Isaac swore and backed away, offended by the table.

Instead, Scott examined the maps with special interest, staring at it from a few different odd angles before he asked, "Are there more?" meaning missing reports.

Allison glanced up to her boyfriend's confusion. She noticed he stood very near to the section where the jogging trail led to the Preserve, to the place where he ran once near a small bridge where water babbled underneath, and she drove over at the ideal moment to get to him. The site where he had been bitten and she pulled him into her car, where he mysteriously vanished from home and school until he healed 100% and came out a Werewolf. She saw the beginnings of insecurity in his big brown eyes, and she answered confidently with a sweet smile "no, everything is on the table Scott." But she lied, his incident was not up there.

"We don't have a lot of time left," Isaac warned adjusting his neck to swivel back and forth from the table to the 10-minute mark on the analog clock.

"That's plenty of time," Stiles replied without looking up.

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Track 11 - Worry Heart by Evy Jane

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"How come the Sheriff's department doesn't know about any of these violent cases?" Lydia cleared her throat.

"Because they're Werewolves, Werehyena, Wendigos…" Allison explained, pointing at the screen. "Their packs and families cover up behind themselves normally but there's been an unrest. There's been massive movements like we Hunters haven't seen in close to 20 years."

"Supernatural are coming here to find their dead and missing," Stiles theorized, his eyes moving like lasers from screen note to notebook note. "Someone is baiting them?"

"That's why we were ambushed on the road?" Isaac said and it wasn't a question, "that's why they thought Derek knew something about what is happening in Beacon Hills? Because he's a Hale?" his tone caught a haughty lilt, he bit into his lip to keep his agitation from spilling over into a waterfall of profanity.

There was no way for Cora and them to know they were walking into a deathtrap. Just like there was no way for those Werewolf-highwaymen to know Derek and Cora were as clueless as the next poor sap.

"So, do you think Derek got baited to Beacon Hills the same way?" Scott put up a hand in abject observation.

"No way," Stiles shook his head adamantly.

"You think he couldn't have been tricked?" Scott furthered.

Isaac snorted and failed to hold onto his indignation, Stiles outright laughed.

"He could have totally been fooled for sure," Stiles amended his earlier statement, "but Hales wouldn't have bothered to collect the dead."

"That's not what they left home for. Besides, they aren't the type to have hard feelings about something like that," Isaac shrugged, a bit calmer.

Stiles sighed but didn't disagree instead he went back to noting at the table. It was obvious they weren't exactly in equal agreement, but he wasn't about to pick a fight.

That didn't stop Scott from wondering "you don't think Derek wouldn't have come anyway-"

"No," Stiles smiled up at Scott for his sympathy, always the kind-hearted one. "Isaac is right. Derek barely left the Homestead for a spare part for his bike, he definitely wouldn't have come all this way for a corpse."

After asking to see the original Hale House fire report he squinted at their incomplete list of family members and the reported dead/missing.

"The one detail we," he nodded his head toward Isaac, "and Kate could agree on is the Hale family being scattered. This number isn't near how many Hale's I've heard of... not that I've seen that many in one place."

"They're not known for showing up at family reunions," Isaac scoffed, hovering close to him. Stiles gave him a withering look, reminding Isaac 'no one found him very funny'.

"We're only allowed to leave the Homestead under one condition," Stiles stopped talking after that. Not with the intention of luring anyone in for a big delivery but because the agreement belonged to their pack. It had become so ingrained he'd forgotten it wasn't everyone's motto.

"We all come back or none at all," Isaac finished when a minute or two had passed.

"Did I not say that part?" Stiles nonchalantly looked up from the report to shocked faces.

"Wait? You can't go home again?" Allison asked.

"That's what they say in the cliché," Stiles said and went back to note taking.

"That's not fair," Lydia surprised herself when she realized she defended Stiles' right to leave Beacon Hills to wherever else it was he called home.

"But at the Diner, you said Cora went back home for help-" Scott asked.

"Blood related Hales on a mission get a pass," Isaac answered smoothly with surprisingly no bitterness to his voice. That was just how things were done.

"Look, I'd love to get into the poli-sci structure of my pack that is totally in hiding for totally legitimate reasons but we're on a clock and I'd really like to know more about the murders on this map and why they're not up on the investigation board my Dad is hiding in our kitchen. Please, thanks," Stiles snapped at the room as a whole.

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Track 12 - Piece by Piece by Feeder

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Allison shot him a look to keep his tone in check. After a huff she started "these attacks lead a clear sequential path from Fairvale, South toward the Preserve. The mall, the underpass, the gas-station, those are the same-" she paused and added with a grinning intrigue "also, why does your Dad have a whole investigation board in your kitchen? He has a Sheriff's department."

He tried ignoring her confusion in hopes she would keep going but it seemed she would hold information hostage until he fulfilled her curiosity. "It looks likes despite your family confirming animal attacks and playing saluchi with the evidence, he's conducting his own investigation."

"Uh-huh," she giggled a little and gnawed on her finger to keep it from turning into an outright laugh.

"He not only has department access but his own instincts and wits and because the pun is available, I'm gonna say the kitchen sink," Stiles finished his tirade with a flourish, brandishing the pen in the air as if it were a weapon.

Scott tried to hide his amusement but in failing to do so he turned around like a child forced to face the wall, at least until he could catch his complete composure.

"He doesn't trust our findings?" asked Allison, suppressing her smile but not her bewilderment.

"'course not," Stiles replied smugly.

Allison frowned and blinked owlishly at him. She understood exactly where Stiles stood at that moment, on the precipice of wanting to be proud of a parent for getting in on the game but also wanting so much to keep them in the dark. "He just," she gestured an expanse of a pin-board shape with her hands "has a board set up in the kitchen."

"Yes," Stiles started to sound less proud and more like a turtle that swallowed a sock, "which he jumps to cover up every time I walk in. But I took a blurry photo with my phone and drew the rest from my memory," Stiles pressed the pages open where his scribbles made out the vagueness of roads with X's marking spots.

Finally, Stiles spread the notebook flat open on the table between him and Allison, Lydia had to take a step back to keep from being shoved back.

"Not bad," Allison observed and she wasn't being insincere. When she and Stiles stood back Isaac, Lydia and Scott's faces popped into their place. Stiles beamed at her over the mountain range of their heads, "not bad at all. You only have one X I haven't seen before."

When she referred to the Cliffside site of his Mom's roadside accident, a detail featured on his Dad's map and a detail he hadn't meant to share just yet it seemed the light dimmed in his eyes.

"I know," he said and snapped his notebook shut. He could see the analog clock even around Isaac's tall frame. "But what about the ones we've got in common" he insisted, gesturing to glowing yellow X's remaining on the tabletop.

"What so different about those?" asked Lydia along with Stiles, only her voice was smaller because she was fairly certain she knew the answer.

"In less than 5 minutes," Allison replied and shifted her weight "to start with unlike the other 7 targeted they're outcasts."

At the confirmation, Lydia flicked back in annoyance instead of relief. Of course, they all seemed familiar and of course it got under her skin, they had already gotten inside of her head.

"Do you mean they were orphaned too? I mean not orphans," Scott struggled for the words and when he found it, he was reluctant to share the title "Omegas."

"Seems like it," Allison confirmed "They are. Those murders are aggravated. Also, the bodies weren't claimed or cleaned up after." Allison nodded and looked to Scott, she felt on uncertain ground with him when she reached out for the files he held. He hadn't realized his hands were shaking until she took the files from them. She kept her eyes trained on him even as she passed along the files to the others and with her hands free, she didn't reach for his, not right away.

"Are you okay?" she mouthed. In response his mouth pressed into a line as he tried for a smile. He made it part of the way.

"The other 6 were claimed by their Pack, by their families because they were Betas, but the rest were left behind for the Authorities to find just because they were Omegas," Scott calculated slower and looked around as if expecting someone to disprove him at any moment.

Isaac clung onto the edge of the table, his demeanor mostly until he rolled his eyes annoyed with his inner-argument, "not that I'm saying the Hales have the healthiest grasp on things but that's why these other packs make such great bait now. Family is weakness."

"Their attacks," Allison said and she referred to the set of 6, she paused. She thought about dictating the way she would when making a case to her family. Instead, she moved closer to Scott and laced her fingers through his and told the facts slow, like a story "they were spread over weeks not days. In places all across the county and with victims from different packs. I don't know which was worse. These 7 might be brutal but if the murders kept going like the other 6 it could have gone unnoticed for years."

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Track 13 - What Death Leaves Behind by Los Campesinos!

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The "War Room" walls made Isaac's senses go all fuzzy. Not in basic nerves but in the extra special senses, not that he had never developed the supernatural ability to walk through walls.

Maybe Stiles could sift through files of victims and snap photos of them on his phone and Lydia could scan them with studious interest as if they could change a damn thing. But when Isaac looked through faces, he only vaguely recognized from news bulletins he was only reminded of how useless he had been to his pack when he'd last seen them set upon in the nightmarish rainy dark. If only he could walk through walls and get out of this oppressive of guilt.

"Then those attacks were a sort of devolution? They were anomalies?" Lydia turned away from the files and looked back to the locations on the map, agitated because she felt there was a more obvious connection she wasn't making. "The locations weren't spread out anymore. The targeted victim shifted. Maybe there is something in the Sheriff's notes that isn't in your notes that can help us understand why the murders changed, and then we can understand why they're happening at all."

"There is another anomaly," Stiles shoved over and ignored Isaac's discomfort (with practiced ease) and spread out the files. 3 folders for 4 reported sites. He re-readdressed his notebook and shot forward along the table and pointed at the juncture along the intersection where the Fairvale onramp began.

"There is nothing there," Lydia said without looking.

"On my list and yours there is only one other reported attack. Only they survived. Then vanished-" Stiles flittered through his phones photos and produced a blurry image that produced heaps of documentation surrounding an incident in that area. Documentation his Dad had but the Argent's did not (or at least weren't sharing) "Jan 2nd a woman was picked up at the side of the road here with gauges, animal marks. At least that's what the hospital reported, it's the only one still around. But the Sheriff's report mysteriously vanished. Only once brought into Fairvale General she disappeared. Just like that!" he snapped his fingers for dramatic emphasis directly in Lydia's face. She ground her teeth down, her face pink with annoyance. Allison flinched.

"That doesn't matter," Allison insisted, inside she died a little. She couldn't bring herself to look toward Lydia for mortification, but she suspected that would be the last thing Lydia wanted. Not while hearing her incident report referred to so callously.

"What are you talking about?" Stiles argued, pointing at his cellphone screen. "With the ability to walk away from an injury like that- To disappear unseen from a place with that many cameras- That much security- With that many people around-"

"No, just no," Lydia's voice came across calm but she looked visibly upset. Even a little nauseated.

"Just think about it," he couldn't understand everyone else's reluctance. While Isaac shared his confusion, he did not share his passion, so Stiles turned back to the others and pleaded his case. "If you figure there are still two killers who worked together until a breaking point then it figures she has got to be one of them, right?"

"Stiles, back off," Scott finally warned. Both theoretically and physically, he leaned abruptly forward toward Stiles and made a waving gesture as if battering him back from an invisible wall, trying to save Stiles from himself. Nothing worked.

"Okay," Stiles let his enthusiasm drop a bit but only a bit, "maybe that's a stretch but even if that isn't one of the killers it's still a survivor. Maybe she was meant to be moved from one place to the other just like Derek, but they messed it up."

"No," Lydia's hands almost unconsciously went to her head to rub at the oncoming migraine.

"What do you mean 'No'?" Stiles moved closer to her even as his eyes went around to everyone in the room. "If we find her then we might find out where that path leads. But she just disappeared from the hospital without a trace."

"Let it go Stiles," Allison shook her head.

"It's our only lead," Stiles voice rose, almost shouting.

"It really isn't," Allison asserted, and her voice went lower almost tentative.

"How do you know?" irritated Isaac demanded.

"God, you idiot because that was me," Lydia ground out her lips curled up around barely held bitterness.

Stiles and Isaac looked at each other for a moment then around at the people in the room, and then, at the same time. "Oh."

"But how did she-did you disappear from the hospital?" asked Stiles, disbelief and concern warred for first place in his voice.

"That was me," Allison said with a bit of smugness. "Jackson and I drove out to Fairvale and got her out of the hospital before the Sheriff's department could catch up and report it. If the Sheriff didn't file a report Hunters didn't follow it up."

"Jackson helped?" Lydia looked toward Allison in confusion.

"He asked me not to tell you," Allison dropped her shoulders, exhausted as if there was no point in holding the weight of this secret anymore.

Like flinging all her secrets and upsets into the air Lydia closed her eyes and tossed her hands up, simply done with everything.

"You're right she's not important," Stiles pressed his lips then his eyes widened in alarm at the sound of his words. "No! I didn't mean that!" he swung around to her and struggled to find a face or hand gesture that meant 'sorry' enough. No warring twitchy mannerism won out until he jerked straight upright in realization. "No," he grabbed her shoulders and shook her a little before turning back to the others "she's too important."

"What do you mean?" Scott asked.

"Lydia has to know something," he flipped through his notebook, glared at the map on the table then back to the notebook. "You've got to know where the trail of bodies leading into Preserve means otherwise, I'm back to square one, I've got no leads. I've got nothing," although he insisted, he tried awfully hard not to sound insisting and therefore sounded whining.

"Are you kidding me?" she shot up nearly colliding with the overhead lamp, she shoved it back and it spun out, Allison ducked to keep from getting smacked in the face and Scott caught it as it sped toward his. "I was attacked by a Monster, a Monster that bites me, who by the way still hasn't been caught. I spent more than a week, freaked out of my mind walking around the woods, hypothermic, to come home and discover all of my friends turn out to be total freaks and you expect me to turn over a full report?"

"Sorry," he apologized and held onto her shoulder "sorry, I'm just really screwed here. You do realize that." He looked just shy of spinning out of control.

She rolled her eyes silently articulating that made little difference, "I get it but in a fugue state you don't remember anything."

"Fugue?" asked Isaac, trying hard not to get too involved and get too yelled at this time around.

"Like walking amnesia," Allison explained.

"Give it up, I have. Unless I ran into someone in the middle of woods and they remembered everything I did, there is just no way of knowing what happened in those weeks," she affected arrogance, an accustomed stance but her face flushed a little and her jaw went a tense.

Scott caught her gaze before she could roll her eyes toward the sky beating back any emotional runoff and he worried for her. Considering the few (practically pulling teeth) intervals when Lydia'd confided her traumatic event, he knew her well enough to know she could never have thought up a scenario like that. It would be humiliating and nightmarish for Lydia to suggest some stranger might have seen her. Something had changed.

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Track 14 - Death Valley (Common Prayer Remix) by My Jerusalem

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"So that's it?! There is nothing I can get from the time Cora disappeared on the highway," Stiles punished himself in reminder while he shoved his phone and hands deep into his hoodie's pockets, "there is nothing I can get out about Derek's death, aside from the fact that out of two killers out there, it wasn't his kidnappers who offed him."

"Whoa!" Isaac interceded, "where did you get that from?"

"From Cora," Stiles snapped, aggravated at being cut off mid-recap. "When she came to get us, she said he was being held hostage. It makes sense another pack would do that for information about the Hales and the mysteries they'd know around Beacon Hills, they wouldn't gain any answers from killing him. And the killers would have just killed him, obviously which they did when they finally got hold of him.

"That's why they mutilated his body and made it look like another pack did it," Allison supposed "because it would devastate whatever truce the packs had while he was being held hostage. Killing him would make any packs at truce suspicious of each other. It makes them scatter and become better targets."

"Maybe," but it was obvious from his face Stiles liked the theory "but if they weren't at odds before kidnapping Derek, why would they be at odds after?"

"Because someone put a big fat vengeance sign on the Hale House," Lydia reminded.

"Before setting it on fire," Scott added.

"With a rival pack's dead body underneath," Stiles rubbed his forehead in aggravated realization "with no identity and no way of reclaiming it."

"Jesus," Isaac squeezed his eyes shut in aggravation. "We're screwed. This is an actual war zone. Like a real actual war zone now and we're in the middle of it."

"But Cora wasn't killed," Scott reminded, "why haven't we heard anything about her?" he looked around the table for suggestions. Sure, they were reluctant to suggest she might be dead but to suggest nothing? "Before Stiles thought she might be the one clawing the sign for revenge but now-"

"Now, no way" Stiles replied solemnly. He leafed through his notebook and stopped at a page he was reluctant to read off of. "It just stands to reason that whoever is using dead members of packs to lure them out would use live ones for the Hales. They're going to hold onto Cora to lure another Hale out."

"Do you really think so?" Isaac stood up straight and struggled to keep hope out of his voice.

"I don't know," Stiles shook his head and glared at his own offending handwriting on the page rather than Isaac. "It's a long shot."

"It is not that far-fetched," Lydia disagreed fiddling with edge of the table. "Derek didn't seem to think so. It's why he gave up his life."

"Wait," Scott interrupted. "Derek gave up his life. You mean wasn't killed?"

"Of course, he was killed," she rolled her eyes and gestured to the evidence envelope in his hands that testified otherwise. "I'm just saying he wasn't murdered."

"What makes you say that?" Allison asked.

"Derek said that," Lydia paused and rethought her approach. "He didn't say anything, that's just what I remember him remembering."

"What else can you remember?" Stiles tried not to seem overeager, which wasn't awfully hard since he was in awe. As a victim, Lydia's memory of events after her attack had been useless but her recollections as a Banshee were proving priceless.

"Just running," she concentrated and struggled to remove her own remembering from Derek's, "I can't see with my eyes, just sense them. Derek trusted who he was with. Well, one of them. There were two people." And those were the worse sort of memories. The memories within memories and then her stabbing headache had begun though she told no one, "Uhm, and they asked if he would die to save her. I can see his thoughts of her. It gets so much foggier after that."

"Lydia, please try," Stiles dropped the notebook to the table and grasped her free hand.

"Out of the two, the one he knew promised it wouldn't hurt. And after a scratch at my neck, I mean at his neck he didn't feel anything at all. Then the first one stabbed him right through," Lydia recounted in a willowy voice.

"How did he know Cora was alive?" Isaac asked.

Detangling her fingers from Stiles, Lydia ran them through her hair and restructured her natural repose "I don't know. I just know what he saw."

"What could he have seen?" Stiles wondered grabbing up his book.

"Lean, dark-haired, brown eyes and a bad attitude?" Lydia asked.

Isaac and Stiles agreed in staggered unison.

"Well, there you go," Lydia shrugged. "That's what he saw on someone's cellphone and it's why he agreed to die."

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Track 15 - Leave The Riches (Violetness Remixes) by Son Lux

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"Shit, Cora is alive," Isaac had to admit Stiles' absurd theory had been right.

"And Derek's is dead," Stiles had to admit Isaac's regrettable theory had been correct.

A successful mission. Of sorts.

As if outside of his control Isaac's eyes wandered to Allison, he hesitated to add, "Do you mind telling your Aunt that's how you should show proof of life? Live feed, no muss."

A hundred smartass quips came to Allison's mind, but she swallowed them all for the sake of time. Instead, she kept her expression cool when others groaned at him, and she cleared her throat. She gave a lift to her brows as she glanced in the direction of the wall clock.

"Guys, if we don't start putting things back where they belong and start to get out of this room in the next minute we're begging to get caught," Allison reminded.

"Is there anything, anything else we can get from the list of victims'?" Stiles pleaded.

"I don't know, tell me what stands out to you," Allison hovered over the list and touched one by the name of 'Mac' "let's start with the earliest."

"Nothing!" Stiles knocked hard on the table, just shy of punching it in aggravation.

"Stiles, notice the day," Isaac pointed out, "that's the exact same day Derek was asked to go Beacon Hills."

"How do you remember something like that?" for a moment Stiles seemed genuinely impressed with Isaac's power of recollection.

"Because it was the same day, we were driving down from our camping trip on the Mountain and Erica crashed your Jeep."

After a brief moment of nostalgia Stiles swore as if someone stubbed his toe. Clearly it wasn't the fondest memory.

"Good thing the room is soundproof," Scott said clearing the damage to his ear canal with a pinky.

"Shame your super powered eardrums aren't," sympathized Allison.

"What about the rest of these?" Allison touched on the list of the dead and Stiles pushed Isaac to move around and stand beside Allison, in hopes Isaac might notice something he'd missed.

"They're weird," Isaac observed.

"That's pretty great," Stiles looked at him in boggle-eyed frustration, "anything else you care to add. They're creepy, gross, not your cup of tea?"

"Come on Stiles," Scott begged off his bitterness. They were all frustrated and tired but why attack one another.

"I just mean, they're each different." Isaac pointed at their dissimilar M.O.'s "The first couple are all animal-like. The last 4 start animalistic but the killing blow are killed by something manmade, even if it's not the same way twice. Don't you think that's weird?"

They went silent memorizing the details of each death.

But the more recent deaths were described as; a guy clawed up but then he practically got crushed in half by a car. The next got clawed into shish kebab before taking a bullet to the face. The next was hobbled and bitten up, almost had her neck snapped before crushed by equipment up by highway construction.

Derek's death didn't match except that it was attacked twice, made to look like an animal but killed by a weapon. Except proof of the manmade weapon used to kill him was intentionally obscured and was the killing blow. The animal-like traits weren't genuine, and they were post-mortem.

"That is weird," Stiles confirmed in his most officious voice, and took to scribbling in his notepad without giving Isaac much credit.

Allison however gave Isaac a grin and pat on the arm, "good eyes."

"I think we're out of time," Scott said unhappily.

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