The Newark Pack was large for a werewolf pack, a good dozen strong. And a dozen werewolves is like two dozen regular wolves in size alone. Normally, they were also one of the more tame packs. When other packs were feeling snide, they called Newark trained. But no werewolf behaves himself on the full moon – no werewolf can. Even Derek was lost to his werewolf side when the moon was out and only a touch from Stiles could bring him to his right mind.

Stiles knew very well that he was taking a dangerous risk. He also knew that his smell would attract his husband. Even in the madness of the full moon, he would run to Stiles. Derek would try to kill him – he wouldn't be able to help it – but he would come. He was Newark's Alpha for a reason, with enough power to hold his pack and drag them with him, no matter how strong the need to break away and trail blood across the land. They would all follow him, which meant Derek would being them all to Stiles.

And Stiles was correct.

They poured out of the lower doors and windows of the castle, howling to the skies. They evolved into a kind of cohesive moving liquid, flowing down the hillside as one silvered blob. The howling became deafening as they neared, and they were quicker than Stiles remembered, full of rage at a world that forced such a cost of immortality on them. Any human would flee, and Stiles could see that even the vampires were tempted to run away from the massive supernatural force charging toward them.

Stiles couldn't run, though. He wasn't quick enough on his own, much less carrying Connor. And even if he did run, Derek would only hunt him down. At least here, hiding in the car, Derek might get distracted by a vampire or the tank before he tried to kill Stiles. If Stiles were a wolf, it might have been a different kind of hunt. A playful tussle that led to other things. But Stiles was human and Derek was overtaken by the full moon. It messed with his instincts. He knew he wanted Stiles, but as a wolf hunting a human, he thought he wanted him for food. Derek was fast enough to get a life-threatening bite in before Stiles's abilities took over and turned him human. And what about Connor? He had no such assurances. So Stiles hunkered down in the car, watching the wolves run towards them.

At the front ran the biggest wolf, black coat with red eyes, intent on one thing—a smell on the evening breeze. It was the scent of what he desired. And Derek ran. But he caught another scent, dominating everything else – a monstrous machine, another enemy.

Derek was close. Stiles could see nothing of the man he loved his those red eyes, not during the full moon. He shoved Liam and Connor into Ethan's hands.

"Guard them."

And then he did the least sensible thing he could think of. He started to get out of the car, ready to try to touch his husband if he needed to. But before he could get more than a leg out, the wolf pack turned sharply, headed straight for the tank.

Stiles sighed with relief. Apparently the driving instinct was to defend territory first and eat later.

The pack launched itself on the tank. One wolf at each arm and the remaining four attacked the main body. Supernatural teeth were guided by instinct towards joints and arteries, even if these were mechanical in nature.

Stiles could only watch, admiring the grace in their high leaps. He held his gun in one hand, but it dangled uselessly. He didn't want to risk hitting a wolf. The vampires made no move to help either. This might have been because they were afraid a werewolf would take this the wrong way and start attacking them, or it might have been because they were vampires.

Stiles looked up for a moment. He saw a black blob in the distance, behind the tank. He looked over towards the east. He couldn't help but cry out. There was a distinct pinking to the night sky.

He had to get them all to the safety of the castle.

He looked to Aiden. "We need to bring this thing down now, buy us enough time to get to Newark. The sun is rising."

The vampire's eyes went black with fear. The sun would stop werewolves in their tracks, turning them back to human shape. It would slow some of the younger members, making them vulnerable and it would do permanent damage to Scott, who lacked any control. But it would kill the vampires, every last one of them, even the queen.

"Look, tear off the roof of the car."

"What?"

"Tear it off. With one vampire at either end, you can use it to carry me and Connor to Newark. You won't get in without me and I can't run as fast as you. You won't have to touch me that way."

Aiden nodded and jumped on top of the car. Stiles heard a loud ripping noise. He was going to owe Laura a new car.

Above, he saw a bright flash of light emanate from the side of the black blob – more clearly a helicopter now that it was closer – and heard a loud clang as a massive bullet hit and tore through the tank. It lurched at the impact, but did not fall.

Laura had sent air support. Stiles had no idea what kind of weapon her drones had, but he didn't really care. It fired again.

By the time the second projectile hit, Aiden and Ennis had the top of a car ripped off and ready for Stiles to ride. Stiles took Connor back from Ethan and sat down.

They lifted him up. The queen and Ethan, carrying Liam, took off towards Newark, jumping the felled tree. Stiles could do nothing more than grip the side of the metal sheeting, cutting his hands on the jagged edges. The leap over the fallen tree was torture and he was convinced he would fall when they bumped down, but he managed to hold on.

The wolves were providing enough of a distraction so that Lydia did not at first see them break for the castle. By the time she did, sending flames blasting after them, they were well out of range.

There was no need to bang on Newark's door; it was wide open, with many of the clavigers assembled at the front, mouths open.

Everyone ran up, right up to the entrance, at which point the vampires stopped abruptly. They waited with a ritual solemnity.

"What is it now?" Stiles was annoyed.

He was gently let down at the door and managed to get through the front door, still clutching Connor. One of the clavigers made to take him from Stiles, but Stiles wouldn't let go.

Still the vampires waited at the front door.

Stiles looked at them. "Well?"

"Invite us in to stay, Dr. Zycie Stiles Stilinski-Hale, Newark Alpha Mate, master of this domicile." The queen's words were singsong and hymnlike. She didn't even stumble over his name. She clutched a wide-eyed, blubbering Liam tight to her breast—no trace of the mischievous kid left, just terrified boy.

"For god's sake, come in, come in." Stiles frowned, trying to think. They had a number of rooms, but where to put an entire hive of vampires. "Best to put you all down in the dungeon. It's the only place I can guarantee that there are no windows."

One of the clavigers came forward. "Stiles, what have you done?"

The vampires traipsed solemnly into the house. Stiles pointed out the appropriate staircase and they filed wordlessly down.

"You have invited in a queen?"

"I have."

Aiden gave Stiles a tired smile as he passed. "We can never go back now, you realize, Dr. Stilinski? Once a queen swarms and relocates, it is forever."

Stiles finally understood Laura's smile and why she refused to allow anyone in her house. Stiles had managed to get her greatest rival out of New York City for good. Not only was she potentate, and in charge of her very own group of very specially trained drones, but she would also now be the sole vampire leader left in Manhattan.

And Stiles was stuck with vampires in his basement. "Dammit. She played me."

"Look, there's a tank outside."

The claviger nodded. "I had noticed. And half of BUR has just arrived as well."

Stiles looked. It was true. Several of BUR's human members, on the tank's trail out of New York, had finally caught up. "Oh, God. The pack will turn on them, they're food." And even as he watched, one of the werewolves left of fighting Lydia's creature and charged one of the BUR agents. "We must protect them. Get the pack members back inside. Get out the silver and see if we have any wolfsbane. I think we're going to need the big guns tonight."

The claviger nodded and called for the rest.

The clavigers all armed themselves and took up silver nets. Each put a whistle over their heads. They were so high-pitched that no human ear could possibly make out the sound, but wolves and dogs were violently affected by the noise.

Stiles thought of something. "We need to bring in Scott first. Remember, he's still young. He'll take sun damage. Take care—he'll be the most viscous."

Stiles would have liked to take part in the small battle, but he was still refusing to let go of Connor – not with moon mad werewolves on the loose, a hive of vampires in the dungeon, and still standing tank on the doorstep. It sounded like the set up for a bad joke. He was sure his life had never been this complicated before getting involved with Derek.

Instead, he stood at the front door, watching chaos ensue. He soon realized, however, that he was in the way of clavigers as the brought in werewolves trapped in the silver nets. So he stepped out further, in front of the house. The clavigers were keeping the wolves distracted enough that even out on the grounds, Stiles didn't think he'd be in trouble.

He forgot, for a moment, that it was his scent that Derek would always run to, further intensified by the cut on his hand.

In front of Stiles was suddenly a large black wolf, eyes glowing red. The wolf snarled, a growl deep in his throat. It had been a very long time since any werewolf had directed their snarl at him and Stiles was scared. The last time Derek had growled at him like this was when he had kicked them out of the house. At least then Derek had been human and could think. Right now, though, Derek was a werewolf in the throes of the full moon. Nothing Stiles said or did would get through to him, except for a touch, but Stiles knew he wasn't quick enough – not with Connor in his hands.

So he back away, slowly, clutching Connor. He knew, intellectually, that there was nothing he could say to get through to Derek. But he still wondered, if deep somewhere in there, Derek knew what was going on.

Connor was a quiet child. He'd always been so. Stiles wasn't sure he'd said much of anything the entire night, but that wasn't unusual. He didn't like new people and he'd been around vampires the entire evening.

However, he started pulling on stiles shirt anxiously. "Daddy, daddy, wolf."

"Sssh, Connor. I know. It's okay. We'll be okay."

Stiles tried to sound more confident than he felt. There were no clavigers near enough to help.

Just as Stiles was contemplating throwing Connor in one direction and bolting in the other, hoping Derek would follow him, Derek leapt. Stiles stumbled backwards, falling to the ground, trying as best he could to cradle his body around his son and keep the wolf away.

But Derek didn't land on them. Instead, he sailed over them, landing on a white wolf sneaking up behind them. Stiles hadn't even noticed him.

The white wolf—Jackson, Stiles realized—and Derek got to their feet. Derek moved towards Stiles and Connor, who were still on the ground.

This is it, then, Stiles thought. Now he's going to eat us.

But Stiles was surprised again. The wolf that was Derek stood in front of them, his massive body blocking them from Jackson, and growled again – a warning.

Jackson scampered off, probably to find someone else to eat. Derek stared at Stiles, his red eyes glowing. Stiles made to grab him and turn him human, but the wolf shook his head, as if to say no, and took off.

Someone had finally noticed the exchange and helped Stiles up.

"You should take him. He's not safe out here," he nodded at Connor.

"I know. I will. Thank you, Boyd. It's good to see you back at Newark." Stiles responded as he stood slowly.

"When BUR got the call, I was the first one out."

Stiles smiled gratefully.

Suddenly, wolves all around them started dropping and writhing. The sun was up, its first rays cresting the horizon.

Stiles panicked. "Scott! Scott is not inside yet!"

Stiles looked around frantically. "Clavigers! Get blankets! Get them covered!"

The clavigers hustled to do as he said and soon were running around covering the ones they could with blankets and pulling others into the house.

"Where's Scott?" Stiles couldn't see him anywhere.

Then he realized there was someone else he couldn't see, and his voice rose in terror to a near shriek. "Where's Derek? Oh no, oh no, oh no." He loved Scott dearly, but all his worry was now transferred to a much more important love—his husband. Was he injured? Dead? He hadn't been out of sight that long before the sun came up, but it was enough time for some kind of injury.

Chris Argent, wearing a maroon curtain wrapped around him like a toga was issuing orders.

"Where is Derek?" Stiles practically shrieked.

"He's fine. He took Scott inside, out of the sun."

"Where?"

"Inside the tank. With Lydia. Once she realized, she opened the hatch and let them in."

Stiles swallowed down his fear, almost sick with relief. "Show me."

Argent led them to the tank, now missing most of its arms and a few wheels. It was unable to move. He tapped on it diffidently. A door, previously invisible popped open and Lydia Martin looked out.

Stiles wished he had his bat at that moment. He would have greeted the scientist with a very hard whack to the head, friend or no, for the mess.

"Stiles. Are you okay?"

Stiles was at his limit. "No, no, I am not. I have been chasing you all over the city or being chased by you. I have watched the city burn and the hive house collapse. I've had my son attacked. And I have lost my bat!" This last part was said in a rather childish wail.

A different voice came from inside. "That my husband? Great. Scott needs some help."

Lydia's head disappeared with an "oof" as though she had been dragged forcibly backward and Derek's head emerged instead.

Stiles couldn't help himself, he rushed forward, kissing Derek as if he hadn't seen him in a month. He may have slightly crushed Connor in the process, if the cries and the tiny fist beating on his shoulder was anything to go by. Derek laughed, a deep rumble in his chest, and took the child from Stiles.

"C'mere, kid."

Stiles climbed in the tank, to get a better look at Scott. He was covered in blisters and burns.

"I'm not sure I should touch him like this. I think turning him human would do more harm than good."

Derek nodded and then stuck his head out to Argent.

"Go get as many blankets as you can. We'll have to wrap him up completely and carry him into the house until he heals."

Argent gave a sharp nod and Derek pulled the door of the tank shut.

"How is Liam?" demanded Lydia. "Is he unharmed?"

"He's safe." Stiles did not mention he was currently locked in a dungeon with a vampire queen.

"Stiles"—Lydia clasped her hands together and opened her eyes wide and looked pleading—"you know it was my only choice? You know I had to get him back. He's all I have. She stole him from me."

"And you couldn't come to me for help? Really, Lyds? What kind of friend do you take me for?"

"She has the law on her side."

"So?"

"You are shah."

"I might have been able to come up with a solution."

"I hate her more than anything. First she steals Allison, and now Liam! What right has she to—"

"And you solution is to build a tank? Really, Lydia, don't you think you might have overreacted?"

"The Order is on my side?"

"Oh, really? First they're taking in Blake's old scientists and now this? Looks like their main body may be developing an antisupernatural agenda. Derek, you may want to look into that."

Derek just grunted.

"Speaking of the supernatural," Stiles very obviously tried to change the subject, "how did you do that earlier, Derek?"

"Hmm?" was the only response.

"You protected us from Jackson. You shouldn't have any kind of control at the full moon. You should want to eat us all – me probably more than a normal person."

Derek shrugged, but his ears went slightly pink. Lydia busied herself looking at the controls on the tank, despite the machine's clear destruction.

"I told you, I'd never hurt you."

"But, but—" Stiles sputtered a bit. "I've studied this for years! You can't make conscious decisions on the full moon. Meat is meat. The combined with my scent should make you want to kill me all the more. There's no way-"

Derek set Connor down and grabbed Stiles by both shoulders, cutting him off. "I'll never hurt you. I may lose some control. I can't control everything. I'll yell and scream and growl. But I will never hurt you. I'd rather die. I'd rather take down my whole pack first, Stiles. I know that I'm dangerous, but I'm not dangerous to you."

Stiles swallowed hard. They'd spent the past few months walking on eggshells around each other. They loved each other, but sometimes that wasn't enough. Stiles had been afraid that it wouldn't be enough, no matter whether or not he said he forgave Derek. Because he couldn't forget Derek snarling and growling at him. He couldn't be sure he could trust Derek not to hurt them.

But here was proof. He was the evidence he was looking for. And he realized he hadn't needed it after all. He had called the wolves, knowing Derek would come to him. He had let them loose, knowing Derek would always run for him and trusting him to not hurt him.

Stiles felt like an idiot. Not that he was going to tell Derek that. Derek deserved whatever guilt he felt for all the crap that had happened to Stiles in Europe. But for the first time in months, he wasn't wary, he wasn't anxious, and he felt safe.

So he pulled Derek close to him, this time with no kid between them, and drew him into a deep kiss.

Lydia cleared her throat. "None of that in my machine, please."

Derek growled at her, but Stiles pulled away.

"We'll have enough time for that later. We have a huge mess to clean up."