"Liam!" Theo's voice ricocheted off the trees as he moved through them, shoving his way through the brush.

Nothing answered.

Another, louder, groan filled the dusk-dark woods, dripping with the chimera's pent-up frustrations as thoroughly as his shirt, plastered to his skin and sticky, was soaked with his own sweat. He turned, feet carving semicircles in the Preserve's soft dirt. Whether he flared his eyes or not, nothing jumped out at him, no piles of shredded clothes, no signs of a struggle, no blood. Everything looked entirely as a forest should.

His animals bristled in unison, not that he paid much mind to the coyote. Its chittering was always the same, driven by the taste of copper and a need to survive at all costs, neither of which were much use to him anymore.

Theo shoved them back, pinching at the bridge of his nose. This was the last of Liam's preferred spots that he could think of, and he had found nothing to suggest the wolf had been anywhere near here, or any of them, in at least a week. That in and of itself was nothing horrible. Any other day, he might be inclined to just guess that the little bastard was doing better, not needing to disappear from the weird pressures of being in a pack with people that cared.

His fangs poked into his lips, the fresh tang of blood quickly coating his tongue and disappearing as the wound healed. Any other day. With a tamped down growl, he started forward, trudging through the undergrowth with all the tact of an enraged bull — much to his coyote's very vocal displeasure.

Of all the times for Liam to play hooky, he had to choose the one-time Theo was actually getting some fucking sleep. His inner wolf huffed at him, annoyed at his annoyance, at which he rolled his own eyes. So, what if he had been Scott's first call, post Mason? He shook off the little wave of pride rushed through his limbs. It meant nothing. The too-soft smirk on his face twisted into a loose scowl.

It was probably the fucker's fault he got called at all. Outside of emergencies, he was the only one that tended not to forget he existed. Other than Liam.

His scowl relaxed, making room for an even more tentative smile crawling its way across his face, steps slowing by a fraction. The beta, annoying as he usually was in person, always brought a warm sort of feeling when Theo thought of him. Well, most of the time. He chuckled softly, a hint of a sour note to the sound. Somewhere between the harsh words, broken noses, ripped t-shirts, and not dying for each other, something changed.

The idiot of a wolf had made it his mission to educate Theo on the finer points of pop culture. Apparently, growing up in the — sometimes literal — sewers did not earn him any leeway. If the ninja turtles can be educated about it, so can you, my friend, he had said repeatedly and loudly. To say that it had been unexpected was an understatement, to say the least. His heart had damn near jumped right out of his chest and taken a hike back down to Tara right then and there.

It was the first time anyone that knew him said that and, as much as Theo had balked at it and refuted the point when Liam proceeded to bash him over the head with it, the first time in even longer that they meant it. Every shred of him, back then and even now years later, was waiting for the shoe to drop, for the anomaly to fall back in line with what the world was supposed to be. Eventually everything succumbed to the persistent elements of time.

Realistically, the whole thing – being friends – should never have happened at all. Unfortunately, the McCall pack puppies were good at one thing: slipping under his radar and getting under his damn skin without him noticing. Had he, he would have stopped it, nipped the damn bud before it even had a thought to grow roots, let alone petals. But, no, he went and got distracted enough that extricating Liam and by some weird extension Mason, which inevitably brought Corey into the mix, from his life was impossible. The three, mostly Liam and Mason, were always checking on him, always making sure he knew where they were if he wanted to join them…

A quiet, still mostly human snarl rippled out from him as he continued deeper into the Preserve, moving just to move.

His wolf howled, high and piercing, almost more of a shrill whine as he thought back to the first time one of them messaged him. He spent two weeks down in the sewers, pouring through the remaining research littered about, panicked over the sharp twinge in his chest that refused to go away whenever he thought about the three idiot boys. How was he supposed to have recognized what the weird fuzziness in his chest whenever he saw their heading to the library or getting a bite at Bacon's Hill Diner, and you know Janey is going to give us a four top texts had been? Or know that the fact that they had added him to their group chat, and then the larger pack one, meant something? Not like he had many opportunities as a kid. Friends were in short supply, between being the third wheel to Stiles and Scott and then being a glorified lab rat.

Somehow, his stolen heart, as scarred and grossly misshapen as the Doctors had made it, still had the capacity to stretch out. Against his better judgment, he let it keep growing. Tendrils, fine as spider's silk, spanned the trench between himself and the world, grounding him there with the force of steel. Well, one person, really. No, two. Mason saved his ass more often than he cared to mention nowadays, tutoring him in physics and math for the GED course he was trying to complete. Technically, it was three, because Corey, wary as he still was, had begrudgingly also taken to him.

It sounded like a bad punchline. Three danger magnet idiots and a walking omen of death walk into a bar, expecting nothing to go wrong.

"Damn it, Liam," Theo hissed as he stopped, resting his shoulder on a tree, head hanging on his neck and sweat dripping steadily down his neck. "Where are you?"

When he first got the call, he had assumed Scott was overreacting, jumping to conclusions without there being a problem to solve. He had done it so many times before, the leap was easy. Monroe had fled over two years ago, but the precious true alpha still worried the damn bitch was behind every tree. No one in the whole cross-continental pack had spotted or heard a peep about her in at least ten months. As far as Theo was concerned, she was no longer an active problem. The likelihood of her still being able to cause problems was negligible at best. Cockiness never ended well for humans in the supernatural world. Not to mention, Argent had taken control of the clan back and forced some changes to the larger Hunter Council.

There was no reason to assume after this long that she would just pop up out of the blue and take Liam. None. Especially, given the beta liked to go running on his own — having said something about clearing his head by boiling the world down to himself and the music making feel more connected to himself when Theo asked once — but often forgot to tell the pack where he was going. All it took to find him, usually, was a quick walk through the preserve, so he hung up on the alpha without a second thought to him suggesting backup. Why wouldn't he? The only person who was ever tolerable to work with was apparently playing hooky.

That had been over three hours ago.

"C'mon, little wolf, tell me where you are." He pushed off the tree, carefully inhaling the surrounding air again, letting it drag ever so slowly through his nose.

Theo's eyes snapped open with a growl, glowing gold as both his wolf and coyote surged forward. He breathed deeply again as he pushed off the tree, claws slicing through the bark with ease, marking it. This was one of the few times his coyote was on board with leaving a trail rather than snapping and snarling over it. He followed the trail, turning by half-hairs and scenting the air every foot or so. Ever so slowly, the smell strengthened. It was still one of the faintest of scent trails he had had to track, so thick with fear it burned his nose, but it was there.

So, maybe he was wrong to dismiss Scott's worries so easily. Was it wrong of him, though? After that damn war, everything should have settled down. They beat the fucking odds and got out with minimal casualties. Fighting for their lives and other high stakes bullshit should have been over and done with. No more life altering decisions. No more losing people at random. No more being crushed under responsibilities adults barely handled.

And yet, there he was, in the woods alone with very real evidence that their two years of relatively normal existence were down the drain.

Mustering as much control as he could, he sheathed his claws, searching his hoodie pockets for his phone. He was redialing Scott before he fully pulled it out. The tone cut off as he took a full step forward, again testing the scents.

"You find him? " Scott's words flew, rapid fire, through the phone, followed by heavy breathing, belying the alpha's worry.

"Found a scent trail. South-eastern quad, find the marked tree, and follow mine. I'm going aft-"

"Wait for us. "

He closed his eyes, scenting the air again. The trail was faint enough to begin with, hours old, if he waited too much longer it was likely to fade all together. The McCall pack was well known for many things, neither organization or quick mobilization, last he checked, were on that list.

"No" he said, curt and clipped. "The more I wait, the more we risk losing the trail." Theo half-winced at the growl in his voice. He had not meant to let that out. "Besides," he forced a chuckle, hoping that throwing on a smirk would help it sound convincing, "if she catches me, it's not like Monroe has any additional leverage over you."

Grandiose as his assumption was, he stood by it. If he as wrong, and it was the bitch despite her being a whisper in the wind for the last couple of years, it was better that he was the one to get caught. Scum was hard to kill. He laughed inwardly as he imagined Stiles' retort of, "Yeah, we know." Animosity was the norm still, and, honestly, he was more or less okay with it. So long as cutlery continued to not be acquainted with his insides and the pack's resident werecoyote kept her claws to herself - fists he tolerated, it was the claws and subsequent clothes he had to replace that he dreaded - he really could not care less how they felt about him.

Well, other than Liam. And maybe Mason. Corey too...

Scott sighed, jerking him back to the task at hand. "Theo -"

"The chimera has a point, Scotty. Just let him wal-"

The screen flashed black, Theo having ended the call before he had to listen to another tirade about how little Stiles cared about him. Again, animosity was expected and tolerated. That did not preclude him from getting fed up with it on occasion. He dropped the phone back in his pocket, shaking his head softly. Lately, he had found himself getting more and more fed up with the rants. Not that Stiles was saying anything new — because he never did. It was all the same things, rehashed over and over — or that Malia jumped in every now and again. That she was using words in her attempts to eviscerate him, as opposed to her claws or silverware, was an improvement. Stiles never pulled punches, always intent on reminding him, and everyone around them, of exactly how low and skeezy he used to be. While Theo would never thank him for the incessant jabs and constant scrutiny whenever the human came back into town, it certainly kept him on his toes.

Liam tried to get between them once, only for the idiot that was Stiles to lay into his beta. A little smile pulled at Theo's cheeks, bringing a hand to feel along his jaw as he spun in a slow, methodical circle. The ensuing twenty minutes were spent in the Stilinski yard, giving the young wolf a target for his rage other than the fragile human whose main defense was still a bat or sarcasm when he pitted himself against the supernatural world. So far, the only two to come out unscathed when refereeing his and Stiles' tiffs were Mason and, unsurprisingly, Lydia.

He shook his head. There was a job to do. An important one.

Inhaling deeply, eyes closed, he homed in on the scents around, dragging it slowly through his sinuses, letting it linger on the back of his tongue.

Focusing as much as he could on the smells, he peeled back the layers. Beneath the ever-present woodsy smell that just was the Preserve, Liam's familiar scent was there — warm, tinged with the sweet, artificial spice of Liam's deodorant, the underlying salt from sweat and a grassy note, though he had yet to figure out if that was due to the years playing lacrosse or from his years as a werewolf — almost buried, but definitely there. He wished it made the wolf in him less uneasy, finally finding a trace of the beta, but the fear and panic and rage, intermingled almost seamlessly, told a story that had Theo biting his lip again.

With another deep breath, he focused on the acrid fear mixed with the chemical abomination of a deodorant Liam had been using for years. The distinct lack of warmth he associated with the beta made his own wolf whimper quietly. Explaining to anyone else exactly what the beta's scent was would be beyond difficult. Logically, he knew that warmth was not a smell. Regardless, he had no other word for it. The beta was a living furnace, a bonfire with legs, so it made a weird sort of sense.

"Next time, I'm not coming after you," he grumbled, starting off again through the trees, marking a few as he passed.

Time ticked by as he trudged through the preserve, dutifully following the trail and marking trees whenever it turned sharply. He guessed he had gone another mile or so into the woods, but the scent never got stronger. If anything, he would say it was fainter.

Theo punched a tree, growling as he felt his skin split against the rough bark, when the trail abruptly turned left for the seventh time, starting yet another circle. Or had he crossed back into the third? No, there wasn't any of his scent lingering on top of Liam's. The fresh cuts would heal before the night was done, so he really didn't care about them. Everything about the situation frustrated him. He was halfway to tearing out his hair. Progress through the woods was nowhere near what he wanted. Every few feet he had to stop and forcefully focus on the scent, figure out if it turned, or kept on. The hunters had gotten smart, probably dragged his hoodie along and built decoy trails.

He growled again, fangs pricking at his lips, yet again. The scabs were not likely to heal for a few days, given how deep they had to be by now, with their constant reopening. He blamed Liam for the habit. It was the wolf's nervous tell. Theo hadn't realized he adopted the mannerism until Mason had pointed it out a few months ago, much to his dismay, as the entire puppy pack had fallen on the floor giggling.

There were a lot of things he was slow to realize concerning Liam and himself, apparently.

A sharp scream shot through the Preserve, freezing him in place. Not recognizing the voice was a positive sign. The near deafening cracks of gunshots and the roar that followed were not.

"Guess they found something." Theo shook his head, a smirk twisting over his face.

Someday hunters would get the message that Beacon Hills was not to be fucked with. They had to. Rogue groups or not, if enough of them got their asses beat to bloody pulps and thrown in jail, the rest had to eventually realize that attacking the True Alpha and his Barnum-esque mishmash pack of oddities was never going to end well for them.

Rolling his hoodie off his shoulders, dropping it and his shirt to the floor beside the shoes he had quickly kicked off. In a smooth motion, he scooped up the bundle, twisting it together before stuffing it under a particularly gnarled and already-out-of-the-ground root of a thick pine. He carved a quick triangle into the tree at hip height, a reminder for later. Replacing shoes was more expensive than he could afford, not to mention the hoodie was actually irreplaceable, unless Liam left another in his truck. As far as the pants, these were his crappier pair of sweats.

The faint sounds of fighting, punctuated with another round of gunfire, reached through the trees, twisting a proverbial knife in Theo's gut. He launched into motion, feet pounding into the ground as he sprinted, golden eyes the only reason he kept his footing. From one stride to the next he tipped forward, running with all four limbs, claws and fangs fully out. On two feet, he was slower than most of the McCall pack, but he covered ground faster than even a born wolf on four.

Inhaling deeply, Theo charged ahead, drawing more from his wolf, pulling it forward. Cracks and growls filled the trees as muscles and bones rearranged, but thanks to practiced ease, his step didn't falter. As his paws hit the ground, he raced faster, digging in harder against the ground. He all but shuddered as he pushed forward faster, smiling as his muscles worked, stretching out after being so tense from running in circles. Instinct guided him as he leapt over the gorge and ran through the undergrowth, and he ducked around trees. It was liberating to be on four feet, the problematic details of being human adjacent falling by the wayside.

Gunshots, a handful one after the other, rang through the air.

He jerked to a stop, hocks sinking to the dirt with the force of it. Snarling, he spun in tight circles, hackles raised and skin bristling as he snapped his jaws at nothing, trying to placate the urge to grab and rip and tear. Something prickled beneath his fur, further raising his hackles, and churning his stomach like there was an Olympic sport for making butter. With a violent shake and snort, he planted his feet firmly in the dirt, rooting himself there as he forced several slow breaths in and out, lips pulled back in a tight, fearsome grimace.

He had to focus. Liam was missing, and the pack was under attack. Nothing else mattered.

Theo growled at himself as he lifted a paw to his face, scratching at his eyes, batting away the faint tingling. With a sharp shake of his head, he looked around, ears twitching. He should be close enough to pinpoint the pack's location. Again, he launched forward, paws grabbing at the ground beneath him, carving deep tracks through the woods. His coyote warned against leaving such a trail, bristling at the lack of stealth. He would clear it later. There was a job to do.

The sounds of the pack and hunters would have been decipherable by Stiles now. The voices were decipherable now, though the words were still mysteries. Blood and sulfur lingered in the air as he slowed to a trotting pace. The closer he got, the more careful he had to be. He crouched as he moved, his black coat perfectly blended within the shadows. It would impress Corey, how invisible he was. He snorted as he peered around the tree, crouched, ready to spring, though he was still several feet away from the fight.

Isaac and Scott were easiest to spot through the trees, a small group of hunters half-cowering between the alpha and his mate. They launched forward in unison, knocking the guns aside and subduing the four with an ease that spoke volumes of their bond. It was almost as impressive as Stiles standing his ground a few feet away, triumphantly knocking two men to the ground with his barbed metal bat. The werecoyote watching his back probably helped, but that, of course, failed to diminish the overproud smirk on his face, already leaping back into the fray.

As he edged forward, creeping to stay tucked within the long dark shadow of the shrub, Theo couldn't see Corey, but he undoubtedly was close by, judging by the whistling pop of his boyfriend's tranq gun. A little snort of laughter escaped him. Had no one told Mason shooting does not require yelling?

The levity was short-lived as he shifted his balance, head snapping to the side, following Parrish's sulfuric odor wafting through the trees, shortly followed by a ripple of heat and the hellhound's deep, tell-tale warning rumble. With his arrival, that put over half of the pack in one spot. His brow furrowed further as he recalled Scott saying they were searching all over the Preserve, spread out in paired units. He hadn't heard any call from the pack, wolf or otherwise.

An uncomfortable itch settled in his gut, making his skin crawl. Theo sniffed at the air again. The usual stench from the hunter's guns and the metallic tinge of blood stood above the waves of fear from both sides, burning his nose. He dropped his head, taking slow steps forward, nose skimming the ground, searching blindly for anything the pack and hunters didn't leave, besides the musty decay of the forest floor itself. A hint of spice lit up his nose, drawing all his focus. It was Liam's deodorant; he was sure.

He streaked forward, keeping his nose to the ground, twigs and leaves almost tickling it as he followed the trail, even as it led straight through the middle of the fight. Maybe they saw him, maybe they didn't, but no one was fast enough to stop him as he raced through. Not like they needed him, anyway. The pack was winning. All his presence would do was get in the way. Or kill someone. Neither would be helpful.

Theo slowed again, lifting his head a fraction of an inch from the ground as both Liam's and the hunters' scent strengthened. His coyote stopped him in his tracks, bristling as it seethed and picked his head up, scanning the surrounding area. He strained his ears, swiveling them in all directions, even closing his eyes as he did.

Come on, little wolf, throw up a siren.

Nothing but the usual forest sounds, minus the fighting distantly behind him. Neither him nor his animals were settled by that. Normal had, yet again, become irritatingly abnormal. He dropped his head, taking off trotting along the trail, moving quickly and quietly. The trees gradually thinned, offering the unwanted realization that he was running out of Preserve.

A streak of light stabbed through the night, breaking through the trees like a crack of light from a door left ajar, remained several yards ahead. Theo dropped back to a walk, tiptoeing at the behest of his coyote as he advanced. Thankfully, his black coat enabled him to edge right up to the tree line and tuck himself behind a group of bulky, dense bushes.

Theo froze, hackles rising as he clamped his jaw shut, going so far as to put a paw atop his own muzzle. Any sound would give him away. He had to stay still and quiet, despite the thick scent of Liam's blood from the truck not five feet away. Everything in him roared to rip the hunters to pieces, to bloody the ground, and make sure they paid for their offense. Everything except the voice that sounded suspiciously like Liam, telling him not to. His lips twitched into a snarl as he flattened his ears, glued to the ground.

A new shudder ran up the length of his body as the ripples of Scott's roar reached through the trees, practically shaking him out of his own skin with the sheer intensity. Something twisted in his chest, a sharp, persistent pain that spread rage through him. He looked over his shoulder, as though he could tell what had sent the alpha into such a state from this distance.

Bzzz. A hunter's radio chimed. "Come in, squad four. "

A woman pulled her own from her belt, "Squad four, ready."

"Squad two, requesting reinforcements and alpha mate is down."

Theo shook his head, disbelief nearly dislodging him from his hiding spot. The others had been winning, mopping the floor with the half-trained flunkies. There was no way they took Isaac down, not that quickly. Out of anyone in the pack, other than himself, Isaac was the most capable and trained fighter. Though, that certainly explained Scott's roar.

"Copy, squad two. What is your location?"

Theo growled, a deep sound from his chest, as he stood, emerging from beneath the bushes. He launched at the nearest hunter before she pulled her gun. Tearing out her throat was his first thought. The little voice screamed at him. Scott didn't approve of killing. He clamped his mouth shut, barely nicking her neck, leaping off as they hit the ground. He grabbed hold of an arm, biting down hard, breaking skin and bone. He twisted his body, wrenching the hunter off their feet with all his weight. The scream made Theo's gut half-twist. His coyote was giddy, eager for more. The blood that spurted from the gaping wound, leaking into his mouth, spurred it on… He spat out the limb, backing a few feet away, his snarl more vicious than ever as he shook his head, forcing the coyote back.

Pain exploded in his shoulder, ripping a sharp squeal out of him, forcing his attention back to the situation. Three hunters took aim while two more rushed towards him. Theo roared as he surged to meet the hunters. Skin shredded beneath his claws and bones cracked between his teeth as he brought the two to the ground. Neither of his animals cared, but he tried to leave them more or less alive. He lunged for the center one, grabbing her ankle in his jaw and shaking his entire body, dragging her off balance. He sprang for the right one, swiping a paw at her head. Pivoting on her chest, he snarled at the last hunter, staring at the barrel of his gun.

"Target acquired. Pickup and return to base requested."

The words snapped Theo's focus, drawing his eyes to the little black box at the hunter's hip. For these idiots to get hold of Scott, of all people, was almost unthinkable. It took weeks of dosing him with minute traces of wolfsbane and moon-crazed, IED-fueled beta to just nearly kill the man. How could they have gotten him?

"Time's up, monster," the man chuckled, cocking the weapon.

Theo growled again, straightening from his half-crouched position, ignoring how his still-bleeding shoulder protested. This was a first. A hunter with a backbone. Oh, any other day, he would rip out that spine and feed it to the man. One last snarling twitch of his lips, and Theo turned tail before the man could blink, disappearing into the blackness of the preserve.

He had to get back to the others, try to stop these assholes from taking Scott too, if he could. It was a long shot, but he had to try. He owed Scott that much. His legs burned, tired from his earlier searching and the jaunt to the eastern side. Apparently, sprinting across half the Preserve and back was his limit, but he didn't slow. The wound in his shoulder was screaming and burning, undoubtedly due to the wolfsbane in the bullet currently lodged in his muscles, further tiring him. What abysmal energy reserves he had left, he used to push faster.

Chest heaving, he skidded to a stop in the clearing, sending a spray of leaf litter and detritus flying several feet. Whipping in circles, he looked for Scott, for any fighting still going on. Theo stilled, his whole body shaking as his tail and head drooped limply.

Everyone was there, either knocked out or restrained, but present.

Everyone, except Scott.

"Where the hell were you?" Stiles growled from behind him.

Theo almost flinched at the tone, as it sliced into him, squarely hitting him in the gut, rubbing salt onto the wound he doubted Stiles thought existed. He lifted his head a few inches, mostly looking up at the honorary alpha with his eyes. A low grumble rose in his throat as he met Stiles' furious glare without a blink.

"You think I didn't see your furry ass race through here? Where did you go, Raeken? Huh?" Stiles stepped into Theo as if to emphasize his insistent questions, all but physically forcing him to retreat.

He yelped as he scrambled back, shoulder twinging. The only thing he could do to keep himself standing was lift the paw from the ground, bearing weight on his three other exhausted legs. He hoped the shaking was more minimal than it felt.

"And what are you covered– Is that blood?"

Theo dropped his head again as he shifted his body, angling it away from Stiles as best he could. A coarse, rumbling growl built in his throat as his ears flattened. Of course, he was the one Stiles reprimanded for being bloody. He was the only one covered in it, right? A whole ass battlefield of supernaturals and humans, and no one else but him had it on them. Oh wait, yeah, they did, because they were fighting for their fucking lives, again.

"Did you kill someone, again?" The incredulous note and upward pitch of Stiles' voice ground on his last nerve, flattening his ears back and stilling his tail in a rigid half-raised position. "I swear to god, Raeken, if you did, you're going away. For good this time."

Theo froze, eyes narrowing at the threat. A snarl slipped out before he could bite it back. To Stiles' credit, he didn't even blink when Theo stepped towards him, lips pulled fully away from his teeth, growling. Shaking his head in slow, deliberate motions.

"Pretty sure he's saying he didn't," Mason translated from somewhere behind him.

At least one of the pack's humans trusted him. Life would have been a hell of a lot harder without Mason's support, both in the pack and not. He broke his staring contest to look back at his friend, giving him a slow, thankful blink before returning his attention to the more murderous human in front of him.

"As if the psychopath will admit he murdered people." Stiles rolled his eyes. "We'll find out eventually, I guess."

Theo growled, hackles raised, eyes narrowed at Stiles' back. Dropping him would make his life so much nicer. No more jabs at his pre-Hell actions or constant threats to put him back in the ground. No more incessant distrustful questioning of his motivations. Just peace and quiet.

"Chill, dude. It's not like the rest of us agree with him." Mason walked toward Theo, setting a hand on his shoulders, soothing the raised fur. "You got anywhere to sleep tonight?"

Theo huffed at Mason. He always had somewhere to sleep. He nudged his friend's leg before walking off, slowly making his way towards his truck. The shoes and jacket would be safe for the night, and even if they weren't, it was the opposite direction. Fewer steps the better, he decided as he finally saw the vehicle.