Teen Wolf 1. Don't Cry

The bike thrummed reassuringly beneath him as he rolled up to the lights. It was the last red between him and the wide horizon beyond. Ethan cast his head back one time toward Beacon Hills and frowned deeply. He could never be sure this was the right thing to do. He was leaving almost everything behind for an unknown future.

The decision had been understandably difficult. He had a real chance at happiness with Danny and a chance at finally becoming a part of Scott's pack. The life however wasn't for him somehow. Everything had been so aggressive of late and Ethan needed time away – time to heal and calm himself. Danny had made it clear enough anyway: dating a Werewolf might be too big a challenge and the relationship had been tainted by darkness since it's beginning.

If you love a Werewolf at some point you ended up getting hurt: that was just the way of things. Ethan had only started the relationship as a way to undermine Scott and only latterly fallen for Danny. After the conversation in the High School he wondered how much his boyfriend really knew about what was going on in Beacon Hills.

Ethan turned back toward the light and his heart skipped a beat.

Scott stood in front of him, his eyes a dull burgundy and his hands straight beside his arms.

Ethan whipped off his helmet and cut the engine. He weighed up Scott's body language and his eyes flashed to cerulean at the presence of an alpha. His scent didn't radiate aggression but it was difficult to read beyond that. If Ethan was guessing there was some hope but also a deep sadness behind it. The wound of Alison was still as raw as the one Aidan had left in Ethan.

"I didn't expect you to come say bye."

"That's not why I'm here," Scott said, "are you sure you're leaving?"

"I made it this far." Ethan affirmed.

Scott smirked, "You cut the engine. If you were leaving you'd have left it running."

Ethan frowned – he should have seen that coming. He was getting sloppy – with Deucalion he'd always been two steps ahead of McCall and now he was playing catch-up.

Scott advanced and moved around the side of the bike. "What are you running away from? You have a life here – you have friends, a boyfriend and somewhere that you can call-"

"-don't say home." Ethan cut dead. "We both know this isn't home for me and it wasn't for Aidan."

"Is it about your brother?"

"He died Scott – we both lost someone. I can't stay in Beacon Hills with that weighing on my mind."

"Does it make a difference if I say I want you to stay…as part of my pack?"

Ethan sighed.

"I think a few weeks ago that would have been all I or Aidan wanted to hear from you. We didn't understand it though Scott – we hadn't demonstrated our commitment to the pack and that showed with the whole thing with Aidan. Lydia was devastated but Alison took priority and frankly nobody else cared that he was gone but me.

"None of it's your fault Scott. It's ours – we never took blame for the things we did…we never apologised…and Aidan avoided involving us. I should have been smarter and better but I wasn't – I think the only way to get away from it is to run for the horizon. I'll miss Danny…high school even…but it's time for me to go. There's no place for me here anymore."

Scott walked back round to the front of the bike and placed his hands on the handlebars. His eyes pulsed a brighter scarlet and he let out a dull low growl.

"There's a place for you in my pack if I say so," Scott stated firmly, "and no matter what you say this is your home. Running away from your problems doesn't solve anything and leaving us to go it alone isn't the way. There's a reason wolves run in packs."

Ethan tensed his body, preparing to spring forward and knock Scott off the bike but then relaxed a bit. In a flash he was back there, Aidan bleeding out in his lap and only Derek watching on as the last family Ethan had left the world far behind him. He could still smell his brother's blood on him. He'd washed and scrubbed to try and get it off him but he couldn't – not entirely. It was still there and in any case his brother had left a deep imprint on him. Their bond as twins and werewolves had burned fraternity into them and the blood they shared tingled at Aidan's death: a constant and throbbing reminder that Ethan was alone in the world again.

At that point a single tear sprang free and burned down Ethan's face. It burned with the fire of loss and stood out – the lone escapee, like Ethan himself. Scott relaxed his grab on the handlebars and stepped back.

Ethan swung his leg off the bike and wheeled it to the side of the rode. He stood by a tree and then sank down against it, curling up in a ball for a few seconds before stretching out again into a sitting position. After a few moments Scott followed cautiously.

"He's gone and he was all I had."

"You never know how much of their heart you have till they're gone," Scott agreed, his own mind drifting to Alison, feeling the life seep from her body and her go limp in his arms, "but letting go of love just because you lost someone isn't the right thing to do. Losing hope isn't either. If you go away you leave behind a life that has the potential to be great: and for what?

"You kept saying you wanted a fresh start Ethan – _this_ is it. Forget Danny, forget Aidan and just think about you and your life here. It could be great…you just have to open up to the idea and open up to people." Scott waited a moment, "The pack's still here for you Ethan, and we want you to stay here." With that, Scott stood up and in a flash he had sprinted off back toward the town.

Ethan sat for a moment against the tree and cast his head toward the stars. He looked for some great map to tell him what to do but he couldn't see any.

A voice echoed in his head, "The course never runs smooth."

Ethan turned to his left and there beside him was Aidan. Real and apparent – smirking cockily as if nothing had changed. Then in a moment he blew away on the wind – an apparition dashed by the realities of nature.

Putting his hand down to the grassy ground Ethan pushed off and rose to his feet. He dusted himself off as he walked back toward the bike and swung his leg over it once again. The engine thrummed into life and the machine tensed in anticipation. The young werewolf looked toward the horizon and Beacon Falls and made up his mind.

Ethan gunned the engine and rode off.


	2. You're My Wildfire

Judging by how long he'd tossed and turned that night, Danny was resigning himself to a sleepless night.

The conversation with Ethan was meant to be easy. He'd rehearsed it in his head and thought it all out a dozen times over. Danny would say they were over, confide that he didn't feel comfortable knowing there was a part of Ethan he might never know. In a town that seemed full of the bizarre and strange, Danny felt like one of the few normal kids walking the corridors.

Spending late nights at the computer researching had predictably thrown up a few horror stories. People accidentally turned into things out of fairytales…a girl in Tokyo that wound up dead after stumbling into her witch-boyfriend's pantry and most worryingly a guy in France that at the full moon had turned into a were-lynx after a kinky evening with his girlfriend. Realistically Danny shouldn't have believed it but it all explained too much that had gone on in the town – not least of all Scott McCall's meteoric rise in lacrosse ability.

He lay back on his bed and raised his arm to rest on it. The bed felt empty without Ethan's blazingly hot form beside him. Danny's body was still on autopilot because he'd forgotten to wear any clothes to bed – when you slept with a werewolf you didn't exactly _need_ pyjamas.

There were a lot of wounds Ethan had left in Danny without ever flexing his claws though. There was the fact that it had dawned on Danny the relationship in the beginning wasn't what it had first seemed to be. Ethan had swept Danny off his feet by being older and charming and handsome but he'd had some kind of agenda: at first at least.

Then there'd been all the tension between the Twins and Scott and his group. Danny went from pal to pariah overnight. Once he had realised there was something supernatural about Ethan it had also become an insult that Ethan hadn't actually told him. Some things were private but he'd at least expected Ethan to confide something as huge as that in him…

"We still had good times though –E." Danny murmured aloud to himself in the darkness. His handsome ex was probably half way to his new life beyond Beacon Hills by now. Part of that nomadic lone wolf life appealed to Danny but at the same time his roots were put down here. Danny rolled over in bed: _the past was the past_.

He must have drifted back off to sleep because when he awoke again there was a soft but persistent knocking at his window. He looked at the clock on his bedside table and groaned: 3:27AM.

Groggily he rolled over and squinted at the window. At once something like a bolt of electricity tingled through his body and he rose and strolled over to it, lifting it open. Ethan slipped through in a low crouch and then rose to his full height. The flame-haired boy wore a simple leather jacket and a pair of skinny jeans. Even half-awake Danny could help but be taken in by his rugged appearance.

"Were you expecting me?" he grinned mischievously, eyeing up Danny's naked body.

Danny threw him some mock-shade and rolled his eyes before crossing back to his bed, "It's nothing you haven't seen before. What happened to heading for the horizon?"

"Scott…and you." Ethan confided. Danny curled up in his duvet on the end of the bed nearest the wall and gestured for Ethan to perch on the other end. "This isn't solving my problems: it's running away from them."

Danny raised an eyebrow, "I thought you couldn't do us?"

"I thought it was mutual?" Ethan smirked. "Except now one of us wants to fight for it…and what we have in Beacon Hills."

"It's not that easy," Danny countered, "I mean you're a w…a w…you're like a super…"

"…you could say it in the hallway?" Ethan teased gently. Danny blushed.

"A werewolf." Ethan's eyes flashed an icy turquoise in the darkness of Danny's bedroom at the word.

"Exactly." Danny said and folded his arms defensively. "You're a…_werewolf_…and I'm not."

The werewolf frowned, "Did I ever say you had to be?"

"You'd never get my permission," Danny countered and immediately groaned inwardly – he wasn't meant to be letting Ethan get under his skin again, "and I just like…I struggle to see how it would work. It's all over the internet Ethan…and these kinds of couples have never ended well. I mean look at Alison," even in the darkness he could tell Ethan had stiffened at her name, "are you telling me she wouldn't have wound up dead if she hadn't got entangled with Scott?"

"Alison died to save the people she loved," Ethan countered, "and that's something to admire."

"I ended up in harms way because I was dating you Ethan…I mean what happened in the shower? That wasn't you and sure…nothing too bad happened but it could have."

Ethan frowned at that. "That was when I was possessed though. There's something bigger here isn't there? You can't trust me?"

Danny sighed audibly, "I think how things started…and the fact that you kept all this stuff hidden from me. It's like you didn't give me enough credit to work things out…I mean your skin feels like the sun, your cuts and wounds heal stupidly quickly…you have an amazing body…and there's a kind of electricity about you. I think it's something supernatural but there's a…presence you give off when I'm around you."

"I didn't tell you because I was ashamed: about how we started." Ethan admitted earnestly, his brows furrowing as he formed the rest of the sentence, "How was I meant to tell you that? I started dating you to mess with McCall but now I'm madly in love with you, let's keep going? You know you'd have dropped be like a dead weight. As for being a werewolf…I didn't tell you to protect you. Like you say my life isn't exactly problem free…I just thought you knowing would put you in more danger."

Danny was taken aback by the bluntness of Ethan's speech. He'd always been at once warm and somehow cold. Always distant and calculating: analysing a situation and processing it methodically. It felt refreshingly…up front. Danny reached out to brush Ethan's arm tentatively and then took his hand back. "I'm afraid of it because I'm afraid of losing you." If Ethan could be honest then so could Danny. He wasn't saddened that Ethan hadn't told him – he was saddened ultimately because it cast a dark shadow over their relationship. His life as a werewolf by nature placed him in harms way. Staying with him and knowing that meant constantly waiting for something terrible to happen…for Ethan to be one night warm and reassuring in his bed, and the next wind up dead under an overpass at the hands of who knew what.

At the contact Ethan budged closer on the bed. His eyes flashed a reassuring and calm turquoise again, "You'd never lose me. We're _survivors_, remember?"

"You'd have said the same about Aidan a week or two ago though wouldn't you?" Danny said. He knew it was a sore spot but it was true. How could Ethan make a promise to always be there if his brother had only been lost so recently? They'd cut things off so quickly and amicably Danny hadn't even asked Ethan about how he felt about Aidan.

He could see for a moment past Ethan's controlled shell. His eyes flashed back to his natural darker colour and they were full of sadness. Aidan had been the one thing he had left. For the longest time it had been the two of them against the world. Even in the Alpha pack, at least with Aidan, Ethan had found someone to confide in and trust implicitly. That bond had been severed and it would never be re-established. Even through their darkest times under Deucalion they had at least been able to turn to one another for support.

"Aidan died to protect the people he loves and I can't deny that I'd do the same. Does that mean I shouldn't risk loving you? No it doesn't. You could step out in the street tomorrow and get hit by a bus, which is just as likely as a hunter shooting me in the woods." Ethan's sombreness turned into a fire and his face contorted into a smirk that would have been more in place on Aidan's face, "Bottom line: I want the life we have here and if you want it too…you know how to find me."

Ethan stood up and crossed the room back to the window. He lifted it up and swung his right leg over the sill and kept his eyes on Danny who remained bundled up in his duvet. Ethan swung his over leg over and turned to leave but Danny's hand caught his shoulder. Ethan turned round and Danny's hands slipped to the werewolf's waist. Danny shivered at the chill. "I guess I need someone to cuddle." Now it was Danny's turn to smirk.

._._.

"Derek!" A frantic voice called. "Derek?"

As a hand made contact with his face the Beta was yanked back into dismal reality. He groaned loudly as he touched at the bullet wound that was slowly but steadily loosing his blood onto the loft floor beside him. The steady but excruciating throbbing immediately told him the bullets had been laced with wolfsbane. Not enough to kill him but enough to seriously wound him.

"Don't touch it," he croaked, trying and failing to sit up on his arms, "wolfsbane."

The room blurred for a few moments and Derek blinked to adjust. After a few moments Scott moved into resolution and Derek's head stopped spinning. Deaton watched warily a few paces back from the werewolves. "Hunters?"

"Hunter," Derek countered, "an old friend of ours."

Scott's face ruffled in confusion as Derek successfully pushed himself up and onto his feet. The taller wolf swayed uncertainly on his feet but then steadied himself.

"Who?" Scott prodded urgently.

Derek blanched at the memory. "I'd thought it was a dream…something that wasn't a real: a figment drawn from my imagination. I was wrong…they call her _La Loba_..." Dazed he fell to the floor but Scott caught him before he plummeted the whole way. He dragged Derek to prop him against one of the support struts while Deaton thought over the sentence.

"Get him some water." Deaton said to Scott who immediately went off searching through the loft. The Druid crouched beside the obsidian-haired wolf and regarded him.

Derek's breathing was heavier than normal, "It means she-wolf doesn't it?"

"It's more of an umbrella term," Deaton clarified, his dark eyes pulsing at the news, "_Loba_ now refers to any female were-creature. More commonly among hunters though it refers to the were-jaguar. I'd thought that was a myth. Who was it Derek?"

"Kate Argent." he grunted. Scott returned at that point and pressed the glass of water to his mouth and Derek drank eagerly. Deaton looked at the gun wound – the blood flow was decreasing now and his body was starting to heal itself. With that amount of wolfsbane it would be a matter of just letting Derek's body heal itself and slowly but surely purge the poison from his blood stream. There were a few things Deaton could do to ease Derek's pain and speed the process though. His mind raced through the various herbs that he could exploit in the situation – fortunately most of them were inside the case waiting in the car outside.

Scott's face creased, "But she's dead, right?" He turned to a puzzled Deaton.

"Peter scratched her didn't he?" Deaton said to Derek more than questioned. The werewolf managed a weak nod. His breathing was still erratic and Deacon could tell from the sweat forming on Derek's forehead that he had a long way to go before the wolfsbane was fully out of his system. "Scott you go get some rest – I'll take things from here."

._._.

The SUV raced along the winding woodland road that led out of Beacon Hills. Its headlights danced across the repetitive white lines of the road and once in a while struck upon the eyes of woodland creatures that glowed momentarily in the glare of the light before they vanished again left behind by the truck. At this time of night there was nobody on the roads and Chris didn't need to pay attention to any speed limits. Putting as much distance between him and Beacon Hills in as short a time as possible was his objective.

Beside him Isaac dozed lightly. After years of training as a Hunter, determining how deeply someone was sleeping was child's play. Isaac was only breathing shallowly and from his tense body language couldn't be comfortable for very long. He might have resented Isaac had Alison not been so deprived of family over the last months of her life. The two had forged a bond that had only been strengthened by Alison's lack of family life. It wasn't anything that was anyone's fault and in some ways he was glad Alison had found someone she truly loved in Isaac…even if it meant entertaining another juvenile werewolf under his roof.

The headlights glinted on the eyes of something else in the distance except this time the creature didn't flinch. Unlike the rabbits, racoons and other creatures before it this one remained rooted in a low crouch. As the car continued moving it rose from a low crouch and extended itself into a roughly human shape. The silhouette drew out a sniper rifle. For a moment Chris considered ducking but then realised she wasn't aiming at their heads and a moment too late started turning the wheel to spin the car out of her line of fire. Instead the bullet she fired lanced into the front right tire and blew it clean apart. The black SUV flipped end over end and barrel-rolled off the road, dancing over the top of the creature and twirling to a final rest after smashing into a tree.

Isaac came to hanging upside down in his seat. He'd awoken the moment the car left the road but hitting his head on the roof had knocked him out. The sandy-blonde haired beta could feel warm blood pouring down his face from a fresh-head wound and was fairly certain from the excruciating pain in his right wrist that it was broken. He looked down and could see that Argent was unconscious in his chair, his head lolled against the window and blood slowly dripping from a cut torn at the corner of one of his lips. The windscreen had shattered into an ice-field of glass below them.

A scent caught Issac's attention and snapped him away from concern for Alison's Dad. With his uninjured wrist he reached up to try and unbutton his seat belt but another hand was already there. Unclipped Isaac fell to the ground and hit the roof of the card with a thud. Smashed glass immediately dug into his forehead and he yelled out in agony.

"I thought you could use a helping hand," the malevolent voice purred, "give my brother a message will you? His sister's back and she sends her regards." She went silent for a moment and then Isaac heard the safety on a pistol click off. Two excruciating bolts went through his legs as bullets lanced through them. With that Kate Argent vanished into the night.

._._.

Melissa perched on the coffee table and watched Isaac sleeping. Concern flowed through her for the boy who'd become a second son to her. As a werewolf of course his wounds had mostly healed over and he was simply working off the pain that came with the physical signs of the ordeal he'd suffered. She could hear Scott creeping down the staircase a full thirty seconds before he joined her.

"He's gonna be okay right?"

"He'll be fine," Melissa counselled knowingly, "are you? With Isaac and Derek on the same night that's a lot to deal with."

Scott nodded immediately and realised as soon as he'd done it that his Mom wouldn't be placated that easily. She saw through the smokescreen with ease.

"You were out early this evening…you crept out again at like two and now again at five?" Melissa raised one of her eyebrows accusingly, "Are you coping with all this alright?"

"I'm on top of it." Scott affirmed more determinedly this time.

"Sorry," Melissa said, her tone much softer, "I didn't mean to accuse…I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I mean so soon after Alison…all this…it'd be a lot for anyone to handle Scott."

He could still feel her in his arms. Remembering seeing the light in her eyes go out and feel the life seep from her body. Feel the unbearable pain that even he couldn't relieve her of and save her from. By rights Isaac should have been sadder than Scott was about the news and Scott shouldn't have been so entitled to feel so devastated…but she was his first love.

He and Alison had been through so much together. He'd almost lost her to the darkness before pulling her back to the light and finally they'd established a relationship that wasn't hugely uncomfortable. They'd avoided the prickly period where exes try to ruin each other's lives because they'd each moved on. There had also been a deep love layered into their friendship and it was the kind of bond that wasn't severed except by force.

The Oni had robbed Alison from him as a friend and a confidant. Honestly Scott had pushed it away and put it on lock-down. Too much emotion made you impulsive – especially if you were a werewolf with a body already teeming with hormones. In light of the recent experience with the Nogitsune it also made sense not to give in to the emotional turmoil and chaos Alison's death had naturally enough left in its wake.

He could feel the tears stinging in his eyes but he held them in place as he looked at his Mom. She looked sad but at the same time reassuring. Somehow her face seemed world-wise and it was all he needed. He slipped into her arms and she held him as he cried quietly.

"You're gonna be fine Scott," she promised and kissed his head, "somewhere she's looking down at you…and us…and she's probably laughing about how awkwardly familial we're being."

That got a nervous laugh out of him and Scott uncurled himself from her arms and smiled at her weakly.

"We'll get through this together. Whoever did that to Isaac and Derek will get stopped. You always find a way."

._._.

_Thanks for reading! Comments always appreciated and if you have any suggestions please do PM._

_Acrobat_

_X_


	3. For Dreamers

"So you're saying Alison's sociopathic werewolf-killing aunt is back and she's a were-jaguar?" Stiles quizzed, his weak smile disguising a mounting torrent of terror inside him.

Fortunately they'd gotten to school early enough that they didn't need to worry about being overheard. The parking lot would be dead for another half hour – besides them the only people who were here this early were Matheletes and the kind of jocks who'd make an Olympic team some day. Scott's shadowy eyes looked up to the overcast sky and then back to his best friend.

Scott nodded grimly, "Deaton called again this morning – he thinks Peter Hale turned Kate when he ripped her neck out."

"But why a were-jaguar?" They started walking toward the school from the parking lot. "I mean I get like werewolves, were-foxes and I mean I accepted the whole were-coyote thing…but a were-jaguar? I thought the species were just North American?"

"Well apparently not," Scott dismissed as they walked toward the school doors, "why are we at school this early anyway?"

"I just wanted to get a head start on that project we have to do."

Scott saw through the excuse in an instant, "You want to avoid her don't you?"

"Her who?" Stiles tried to divert.

"_Malia_." Scott replied smirking.

"What?" Stiles blanched. "No! Me? Avoid Malia…why would you think that? You're _crazy_."

"Am I?" Scott razed a mocking eyebrow. "You still feel awkward because you had sex with her."

Stiles went from white to bright red in a single word. The two friends stopped in the car park and Stiles lowered his voice despite them being alone. "I just don't really…you know…know what to say to her."

Scott laughed and then started walking toward school again, "Well you can get used to her being around Stiles." His friend groaned as they pushed through the doors to the school.

._._.

Kira's heart skipped a beat the moment she spotted Scott leaning against his locker with Stiles. It was so stupid and immature but just the knowledge she'd be around him imminently put a little flutter in her stomach. It was like the rush before a roller-coaster set off – knowing something was about to happen and that she'd strapped herself into the harness so she just had to embrace it. The hallway was clogged with people – first period on Monday was looming and it made everyone move as lethargically as possible: once you sat down in that class-room the weekend was officially over and another week of boredom would begin in earnest.

"Hey," Kira greeted timidly as Scott made eye contact with her, on the spur of the moment she pecked him on the lips, when they parted he smiled, "hey Stiles."

Stiles nodded warmly and then blushed again – he'd spotted someone over their shoulders. "You know what I'm…I will just see you in first period." With that he vanished into the flow of people.

"What's up with him?" Kira enquired, she turned her head and scanned the hallway. At last she spotted Malia weaving her way through the hallway. The pretty brunette was smiling warmly, her chestnut eyes searching for a friendly face in the sea and her hands clasping an off-putting number of books to her chest. The dark covers were stark against her pale floral print dress. "Oh. Is he still?"

Scott nodded and rolled his eyes.

"Did Stiles really just run away when he saw me?" Malia prodded inquisitively, her forehead creasing in confusion.

Kira raced for an answer that avoided the obvious, "No…he just has…a…erm…"

"…project due first period," Scott finished for her, he smiled reassuringly, "don't worry about it though. He's just a little…awkward."

Malia nodded unconvincingly and leaned back against the lockers beside Scott, "So anything exciting happen this weekend?"

"Oh yeah," Scott laughed a little, "a lot of _exciting_ stuff – I'll tell you on the way to Math."

._._.

"So the hunters following her are all dead?" Argent enquired from the hospital bed. Derek nodded – from the look of him you wouldn't know he'd had his body pumped full of wolfsbane the day before. His icy eyes seemed to pulse with thought and his dark hair was coiffed to perfection.

The broad-shouldered man nodded, "She shot them before she shot me. Got them right where she wanted them and then _bang, bang_."

Argent frowned in the bed – unlike Derek he didn't have a self-healing body. He'd suffered a few cracked ribs in the crash and a concussion. He was getting over the latter but the former was going to take a lot of time. As he thought about them they seemed to throb in agony again.

"You said they were Spanish?"

"Yeah…they kept calling her _La Loba_ again, and again."

"It's a legend even the Argents are familiar with…I've never comes across a Were-Jaguar but they're particularly ferocious. In the same way a wolf gains strength, a jaguar gains speed and stealth – that's probably how Kate gave them the slip so easily." Argent frowned deeply. "You know none of them safe."

"Her coming back will be about Peter," Derek disagreed, "why else come back?"

"Once she finds out about Alison she'll go after Scott." Argent sighed. "I'm surprised she didn't kill herself when she came back."

"She never respected the code before," Derek reminded, "why did she go straight after you and Isaac then?"

The greying hunter shrugged in bed and immediately winced in pain. He thumbed the control for more painkillers and then sank back in bed. "Isaac passed on the message – she wanted to tell me to not get in her way. Now I can't."

"Then someone else has to." Derek bristled at the thought of seeing Kate again. She'd ruined his life once and he wasn't about to let her do it again. He made to leave but Argent grabbed his arm. Derek could easily have shaken off the weak grasp but let it pull him back into the chair.

"Look her up first – track her and observe her. You go rushing off to engage Kate and she'll swat you like a fly."

"Count on it."

._._.

"Two things to remember – don't talk to me during and don't expect me to talk to you _ever again_ after." With that, Lydia grabbed the guy's shirt and wrenched him forward into a passionate kiss. Empty offices and classrooms had always been where she'd snatched a guilty moment with Aidan and filling the void he'd left was easy enough with the random she had found walking the deserted hallways between classes.

Within seconds her hands had danced down to his fly and were moving over the buttons with ease that only a lot of practice delivers. Her hands swooped and weaved and groped and within seconds she'd forgotten the world and any cares she had floated away. She could shut out the pain, the screams and the cries. She wasn't a Banshee. She was just a ghost drifting on the wind: and she loved it.

._._.

Stiles had managed to avoid Malia's eye line in Math, dodged her in History by partnering with some stranger and was almost safely through to lunch without seeing her. He moved round a corner and breathed a sigh of relief. The coast was clear. He walked out into the centre and then ice danced down his back as voice cleared itself behind him. He spun round and relaxed more once he locked eyes with Danny. "Are you _trying_ to give me heart failure?"

"You're the one creeping around like your in 70s cartoon show." Danny countered mischievously. "Who're you hiding from?"

"No-one."

"A girl?"

"_No-one_." Styles said, trying to sound firmer.

"A boy?" Danny cocked an eyebrow and Styles's eyes felt like they bulged. He never seemed to say the right thing around Danny.

"Fine you know what, I'm hiding from a girl because we…did stuff a while back and haven't spoken since, and now I'm hiding because that's easier than humiliation."

"Malia?" Danny twigged. Styles pale face blanched and Danny did an expression that should have been accompanied with a punch in the air. The taller boy studied Styles for a moment and his grin broadened like the Cheshire Cat, "She took your virginity?"

"Shhhh," Styles switched from blanch to burning red in a second, "would you not," his voice moved to a whisper, "discuss my sexual experience…or lack thereof in the _middle_ of the hallway!"

Danny held his hands up and shrugged, "Shouldn't you be acting casual so you don't draw attention to yourself?"

"Well," Styles witty responses deserted him, "maybe." With that he headed straight and confidently through into the cafeteria and Danny followed him. Immediately the trickle of confidence that had stemmed from the change in walking pace vanished and Styles felt his confidence vanish. Styles and Malia were sat facing them at a table. Worse still Danny had decided to usher him straight toward the table.

._._.

"You can go now." Lydia said coldly, fixing her hair and rolling her fuchsia chinos back into perfect place just above her ankles. The random she'd picked up scowled a little and then promptly left her. Studying him more closely Lydia picked up on something different about him but she wasn't sure what. She'd discovered recently she wasn't exactly a great judge of character and the tall, dark and handsome random walking away was probably just another bad mistake that had already happened. She shrugged, turned around and then jumped out of her skin.

Kira's brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed, "Wait, did you two just?" She peered inside the supply closet, grimaced and then turned back to Lydia, "In there?"

Lydia pulled a stray strand of hair back into line with a stiff twist of her finger and then gave Kira a look that she'd trained Alison to read as: _stop asking questions_. Unfortunately Kira hadn't taken even so much as summer school at The Davis Academy of Expression Interpretation and consequently ploughed on. "Who was he?"

"It doesn't matter." Lydia dismissed. The strawberry blonde decided she needed lunch and set off for the cafeteria in the opposite direction to the random. Kira kept pace with her.

Kira looked over her shoulder: the boy was gone now. "He's cute."

"He's forgotten," Lydia reaffirmed, her mouth curling down into a frown.

"Is this about-"

"-don't say it." Lydia shot down.

"I just meant-"

"-_really_, don't say it."

Kira stopped, "If you're working through stuff about Aidan we can talk."

"I'd rather we didn't," Lydia forced a closed-lips smile, "Aidan is gone and I'm at peace with it. That boy was just some harmless fun to take my mind off this afternoon's geography test."

Kira puzzled over that but didn't say anything more. Perhaps she'd presumed too much of her friendship with Lydia too early. She didn't have all that much experience with friends and she was keen not to mess things up. Alison had so clearly been a part of the lives of Lydia, Scott and Styles that she didn't want to step on any toes. She'd never be Alison – never the tragic warrior, doomed first love nor hole filling best friend: she could only be Kira and do her best to build bonds but she had to be careful – too much, too soon and she'd do exactly what she wanted to avoid. Evidently trying to involve herself with Lydia's veiled grief had been overstepping the mark.

Lydia's green eyes danced along the corridor anywhere other than Kira. It was as if the girl had swung a katana at her and stabbed straight through to her soul with the comments about Aidan. In words it was a pinprick but the inquisition had stung like a knife. The boys had tried their best, but Scott and Styles for all the good they could do had never liked Aidan and at a base level that prohibited them from sympathising with Lydia's sadness convincingly. On Alison they could help but it was also undeniable distance had been placed between the boys and her leading up to her death. There'd been a detachment somehow that would never be mended. Even in death in Scott's arms, Lydia doubted whether everything had been healed and like the scream of someone in their death-throes, the rawness of the wounds in Scott from the death were obvious to her.

If a few hook-ups here and there took her mind away from Aidan, Alison and the grim reality of her ongoing life then Lydia was all for it. She could just do without analysis from Kira, even if she meant well and was only trying to make things better for her. The west entrance to the cafeteria loomed up: two white swing doors with opaque glass that heralded a social onslaught. Kira had overtaken her by a few steps and got to the doors first.

Lydia scanned the room and her eyes fell upon Scott, the new girl Malia and a very uncomfortable-looking Styles. Then she spotted Aidan and froze on the spot. His warm eyes were studying her intently, his hair a burning bright red and his heart beating loudly all around her. He was walking toward her and she watched him, her eyes tearing up at the sight of him. Then in a flash he was on the floor, bleeding out and she was too far away to reach him. She broke into a run toward him but the cafeteria was stretching out now into a white void. Aidan was crying out in agony for her to save him and she couldn't reach him. He screamed and Lydia snapped back into the cafeteria as if nothing had gone on.

It had been Ethan.

Aidan's twin was sat enjoying lunch with Danny.

"You saw him didn't you?" Kira prodded gently.

Lydia rounded on her furiously, "I didn't see anyone. Stop prying in and stop acting like we're friends." She retraced her steps and stormed out of the cafeteria. There wasn't anyone in there for her anyway.

._._.

Lydia could at most have spent a minute in the cafeteria. Scott watched the strawberry blonde stride in, stop and leave. Kira looked a little dazed by the whole thing before she headed over and glumly sank into the vacant seat next to Malia.

"She seemed angry." Scott nodded toward the door Lydia had just darted through.

Kira sighed and pulled out her lunch bag, "I think I pushed her buttons." She dumped the brown bag on the table unnecessarily hard and it tore up the side.

Scott smiled because he couldn't think of anything better to do at that point.

"Good first day?" He asked Malia because he could think of nothing better to say.

"Not the worst Monday on record," she said simply, her chocolate eyes distant, "how was your day Styles?" Malia slotted a piece of pasta into her mouth and locked eyebrows with him. Styles immediately squirmed and she suppressed the urge to giggle. It was a little mean to play with him like that but Styles obviously felt more awkward about the whole thing than she did and that was something she could play with.

"It was you know…erm…hot," Styles felt heat rising to his cheeks, "I meant the day…_the day_ was hot."

"Today?" Malia toyed, "It's been raining since eleven?"

"You're right. It's been cool all day." Styles looked to Scott for help but his best friend was wearing a smile that was only widening all the time.

Malia's face looked devilish, "Do you have something else on your mind?"

"What? No." Styles's face was flaming now.

Kira rolled her eyes, "Styles she's messing with you." At that point Scott and Malia collapsed in giggles and Styles eyes radiated venomous fury.

"Sorry," Malia said between laughs, "it was just too worth it!"

"You know I'm glad my prevailing social awkwardness is so comedic for you all." Styles rose to his feet, "I'll see you all in Biology." He jerked backwards on his chair and left them to it.

"Two angry friends. Great." Kira elongated the vowels in the last word.

Malia shrugged, "He tried to avoid me this morning…I'm just repaying the favour. He can be a big boy and talk or keep being a jerk."

"He's just a little awkward. He'll come round." Scott reassured.

._._.

"Do you spend a lot of time running from werewolves?"

Lydia turned round so she could see up the stair-case. She locked eyes with the boy from before and now she got a better chance to look at his features. He was tall – maybe six foot – and had a Latin complexion. His eyes were dark and intense, and his face young-old. He was undeniably a teenager but there was a worn quality to it like the scorched surface of a desert. He also seemed to have taken a much more ominous tone to him now.

"Werewolves?" Playing dumb would be best to draw him out.

"Men…or boys in your case that turn into creatures of fantasy and myth at the moon." His accent was definitely Spanish-flavoured. Lydia's heart was pounding faster now and she couldn't place it on the undercurrent of threat in his voice or the attraction she'd felt toward him. "You can dispense with the mask by the way. You're a Banshee not a master liar."

Lydia rolled her eyes switching tactics, "I've honestly no idea what you're talking about. What's with all the words anyway – you weren't that concerned this morning?"

"Reconnaissance."

He was distinctly better dressed than he had been in the morning. The burgundy leather jacket only enhanced his tanned skin tone and the slim fit jeans gave perfect definition to the pair of legs Lydia was already familiar with.

Lydia spiralled up and advanced on him, "Why me?"

"People who go straight for the wolves don't last long – it's their friends that the smart ones go after." He reached out and grabbed Lydia's wrist and pulled her face-to-face with him. "Who's the alpha?"

"I thought you were the _smart one_?" Lydia wrenched her wrist back and swept her auburn locks over one shoulder. She walked past the boy and put a safe amount of distance between herself and the stranger.

The stranger let out a deep laugh, "Going through you was easier than stalking him outright and giving myself away."

"Then what's this meeting doing? You think I'll keep quiet?" Lydia sparred.

The boy's smile hardened, "I know you won't."

Lydia didn't know what to make of him but she didn't care. He was boring her and had evidently misjudged things if he thought her first recourse when intimidated would be to fall apart in front of him.

"Next time be careful going after a Banshee. We may not be master liars but we're liable to scream and if that were to happen…well…those wolves you're so concerned about might come running." She said the words in barely a whisper. The boy watched her walk off to the upper floor until she passed out of sight.

._._.

The old man watched out across the landscape, clutching raspy breaths and silently cursing the world around him. After all his days on the world he'd ended up afflicted by the one thing he despised most and cursed to live out his dying days hideously debilitated and more fundamentally alone.

"I'd heard the rumours you know." Gerard murmured between snatched breaths. "The murdered children, the savage creature prowling the Amazon basin and the army of street creatures sweeping Sao Paolo. I never expected you to come crawling back here though _Kate_."

"Oh Dad," she said feigning care, "I need something from you. You wouldn't leave daddy's little girl wanting, now would you?"


	4. He Used To Call Me DN

The lithe figure stepped tentatively out of the treeline. The silhouette stood upright, its profile slim and sleek. Breaking into a sprint it hurtled toward the mesh fence and kicking off the ground, somersaulted with ease and touched down in the dirt on the other side. The shadow paused a moment and then struck out across the yard.

Containers of all colours and markings were littered across the yard, but the silhouette walked with a purpose that betrayed a thorough knowledge of the layout of the yard. Every so often the figure paused to scan a container or pick out a marker to give it an idea of where it was within the complex. Most of the containers here had been left to rust for years and were empty. A virtual scrap-yard, it was an ideal hiding place – somewhere to keep things out of prying eyes. Unless those eyes had crossed continents in search of the hiding place in question.

"_Bingo_." Kate murmured to herself as she spotted the burgundy coloured container dead ahead of her. Weeds curled up out of the dirt around the container and the long abandoned remnants of a bicycle were rusting away to nothingness against the door. Nobody had been here in a long time. She strode up to the heavy metal doors of the container and pawed the heavy padlock with her hand.

She frowned and cast her head around the ground near her. Gerard's container was in a clearing amongst the sea of containers, and faced a further six sets of doors that formed the other sides of the clearing. Paying more attention to the ground there was a lot more junk than she'd spotted when she'd strode into the yard. Discarded pipes and wires littered the ground, somewhere she could smell a dead animal decomposing and there were all manner of insects crawling and creeping amongst the assorted crap littered over the clearing. After her sixth scan Kate spotted what she needed: a heavy, old wrench. Plucking it from a crop of weeds that had started to wrap themselves around it, she walked back to the container and with one blow smashed the padlock off the door. Finally the last part of her journey was over.

Noisily the container groaned open although that didn't bother Kate – it was too far from the security guards at the entry post for it to bother them and considering the condition of some of the containers, doors falling off couldn't be all that infrequent an occurrence. There was no artificial light in the container but fortunately between the vibrant moonlight and the night-vision traits of the jaguar Kate could see just fine.

It was unusual of her Father to have chosen such an unconventional 'vault'. Then again shirking melodramatic fanfare for a sly underhanded approach would wrong foot most people: especially where Gerard was concerned. Considering how much of a stickler he had been for the Code until recently she was surprised some of the things in the container were as old as they were. There were a few cobwebs to be brushed away inside the dark metal space but before long Kate had come across the weapons stash. Everything has been meticulously organised so you wouldn't find anything where you expected.

The family china had disguised the bookcase, a couch was stuffed with all manner of herbs and potions and the weapons had wittily been stuffed inside an umbrella holder. Kate fished between the dozen umbrellas and eventually pulled out the half a dozen sheathed weapons she was interested in. She layed them out on a writing desk beside her and stroked each leather sheath in turn pawing them. One was an ancestral blame of the Argent family, another seemed almost Nordic but, amongst the collection, one drew her attention above all the others.

After a moment's indecision Kate plucked the dagger from the sheath and admired it. Even in the dim moonlight the silver of the blade glinted before her and she admired the gemstones interwoven within the weapon. It was a thing of pure beauty and far more than just another antique. She couldn't be sure when Gerard had acquired it or where but regardless it was hers now.

She turned to leave but paused on the threshold of the container and traced back to the umbrella stand. She slipped the dagger holster around her waist and ensured the sheath was locked in place and then plucked a crossbow from the umbrella stand, a few trick bolts and fixed it in a tight grip in her right arm. Kate retraced her steps through the container and emerged into the clearing again and smirked.

A towering silhouette before the moonlight, Derek Hale's azure eyes glowed with menace at her and his claws quivered with barely contained rage.

"You really are getting sloppy at tracking people."

The wolf looked taken aback at that.

"Catch you next time." Kate levelled the crossbow and lanced a single bolt at him. It struck him square in the chest and knocked him backward through the air. Coils unfurled from the bolt and wrapped around Derek before delivering a sustained and high voltage charge through his entire body that fazed him out of his wolf form. Crippled for the time being Kate raced off with what she'd came for and away into the night.

As Derek's lids fluttered feebly, he suddenly caught a scent and was dimly aware of being lifted before blacking out altogether.

._._.

Lydia didn't like sleep much these days.

It had been beautiful once upon a time. A feeling of weightlessness and refuge from the daily assault of life. Then her Banshee nature had asserted itself and suddenly sleep was the last place she wanted to be. A place her subconscious could assail her with absolutely no mental defence of her own to resist it. It was a prison of sorts. A place she was defenceless and laid bare. Somewhere she felt uncomfortable.

A knock at the window awoke her with a start. Lydia sat bolt upright and felt her entire body tense nervously.

Nobody had knocked at that window since _him_.

She assumed it was something that gave young stupid boys a thrill but she was above grade school antics. Why knock at a window when there was a perfectly good door downstairs? It wasn't as if her Mom even cared _that much_. Clearly the withering gazes Mrs Martin could supply had been off-putting enough for Aidan, Jackson and whoever it was at her window at this moment.

Lydia blinked at her eyes to clear them and then turned to the window. Why had she closed the curtains? That just made this about a million times creepier. Summoning what courage she had to her in the middle of the night, alone in a room and with a seeming universe of supernatural creatures drawn to Beacon Hills thanks to the Nemeton, Lydia crossed the room and flung open the curtains.

What was on the other side was annoying rather than threatening. Nevertheless, it being the middle of the night and presumably freezing, she opened the window.

"Could this not have waited till morning?"

"It's about the boy."

"Which boy?" Lydia asked, her brow furrowing with restrained fury.

"_The boy_," Kira emphasised as she crept across the sill and put her feet to the floor almost silently, "the one you hooked up with-"

"Shhhh," Lydia said, "do you want my Mother to know that was what I was up to at school today?"

Kira smiled sheepishly and shook her head. Lydia gestured wordlessly to the bed and in a single graceful leap Kira was perched comfortably on the edge of the bed. Unwilling to demonstrate the lingering talents of childhood gymnastics, the auburn-haired girl walked to join her. "So what about him? If this is another DMC you can go straight back out that window."

"Werewolf hunter." Kira mumbled.

For the second time that evening Lydia's body tensed and she felt ice shoot up her back.

"Excuse me?"

"His name is Jaime," Kira added, the dark glimmer in her eyes only seeming to intensify the weight of what she was passing on, "and he's a junior hunter from the Calaveras pack."

"So you don't think it was a chance hook-up?"

"I mean…I don't know….it could be," Kira looked nervous, "I just…I mean I thought you should know."

Lydia felt like Kira was fishing for reconciliation and she had been mad, so she conceded a thankful-looking smile, she looked out of the window to avoid eye contact, "Sorry for snapping today – you were just trying to be thoughtful."

"I shouldn't have pried." Kira said quickly.

Lydia offered eye contact now, "I miss him you know – _everyday_: but Aidan is gone and buried. And I have to carry on."

Kira nodded, "What do you want to do about the hunter?"

Lydia shrugged, "Right now…there's nothing we can do till we find out more. We can tell the boys tomorrow."

._._.

A morgue should smell of death, decay and depression – all the things that are inevitably to be associated with it. The Beacon Hills Hospital morgue didn't though. It smelt almost eerily of nothing. Stilinski could never get used to that – the fact that liberal bleaching and refrigeration obliterated the deaths of those within. The dim lighting didn't help the gloomy feel of the place though – a token reminder of just what the place was there for.

Melissa, her tightly controlled face not betraying her inner despair, was stood beside Deaton, looking down at the metal table and staring at the two corpses spread across them. From a distance nothing looked amiss but as he drew closer, the Sheriff saw that the bodies were almost beyond recognition. Claw marks stitched their way across the chests of the two teenagers, both had throats torn out and each featured missing whole chunks of leg where teeth had sawed them away from the body. If he didn't have such a strong constitution he'd have asked for the sick bucket.

"So what was it, a mountain lion?"

"Wolves – if it was an animal at all." Deaton appraised, his medical background robbing him of any note of sympathy.

The Sheriff was taken aback by that, "Wait…do you mean?"

Melissa nodded silently.

"It doesn't have to have been someone from Scott's pack though," Deaton reminded, his voice still emotionally detached from the situation, "whatever it is, was quick – the throats were torn out before the rest of the incisions were made. Toasting marshmallows one moment and then dead the next. It would have been largely painless."

"They're still dead," the Sheriff countered, feeling his anger rising at the dispassion displayed, "and supernatural or no the person responsible has to be brought to justice."

The door opened behind them and the three turned toward it. Striding across the room Rafe McCall looked at once rattled, angered and impressively calm. "A double homicide and you didn't think I deserved to know?"

"I did tell Parrish to pass it on to you after he called it in to me." The Sheriff stated simply. If McCall really desired to follow it up, Stilinski could always cover for Parrish there and then, but at the time the excuse suited him perfectly. He doubted McCall would make a case for it though – he'd have to acknowledge the obstruction and that'd mean acknowledging the fact people didn't really like him down at the station. That'd damage the ego too much.

"Animal attack?" McCall pressed, changing tack.

Deaton offered a glance that suggested he was studying them afresh, "We don't know what attacked them though," he misled, "it could have reasonably been any number of large predators."

"Stilinski I want _all_ your resources on this – and that includes you and Parrish. No disappearing acts this time." Having pulled rank, Rafe left them to it. There was no sense in making things worse and staying would only weaken the impact of his overruling Stilinski. As soon as McCall was gone Stilinski turned urgently to Melissa.

"Where were the boys last night?"

She bit her lip and instantly cursed giving herself away so obviously.

"Scott?" He intensified.

She shook her head.

"Isaac?"

Melissa stayed quite still and silent for a moment.

"Only for a few hours." She admitted as fast as if she were gasping a breath after being underwater.

The Sheriff turned away groaning and then looked at Deaton squarely, "Could he do this?"

"It is more a case of _would_ than _could _Sheriff. There is a deep set of aggression and animalistic nature in all werewolves, and Isaac has suffered more than enough human trauma to intensify those to an extent, that frankly it's difficult to define to what extent he would go, if the brake were to be released on those tendencies."

"Isn't he still busted up from the crash?" Stilinski interjected urgently.

Melissa looked helpless, "I mean he was…but he's a Werewolf."

"He was capable of it," Deaton settled firmly, the weight of his voice cutting through the indecision of the two, "the question is whether he acted upon that capability and why."

"Well you heard McCall – I'm stuck on this until he takes the stick out of his ass."

._._.

"Derek being MIA and Kate being back isn't a coincidence," Stiles insisted, "she's taken him for…would you two _try_ and pay attention?"

Stiles realised Scott's living room couch didn't exactly afford him much power or attention but it still should have given him more attention than he was receiving from Isaac and Scott.

"Once I've had breakfast," Isaac said between mouthfuls of pancake, "then you will have my undivided attention – healing from a car accident on an empty stomach isn't_ easy_."

Stiles looked to Scott for help. His eyes bulged, "I mean…I guess that makes…sense?"

"Makes _sense_?" Stiles's eyes bulged now, "_Sense?_ Are you for real? Scott this is like basic arithmetic – Kate plus missing Derek equals Were-Jaguar has obviously kidnapped former Werewolf lover for purposes presumed supernatural and sinister."

"Okay, okay," Scott said, being drawn out of his morning drowsiness, "so what do you think she's doing?"

At that point the doorbell rang. Scott sank back in his chair breathing a sigh of relief – it was way too early in the morning to be discussing the intrigues of Kate Argent.

"Shall I?" Scott nodded in confirmation at Stiles, "Oh okay…sure…I'll get the door." Stiles walked quickly to the door and stood back as he was pushed aside by Ethan and Danny who both swept into the room almost as if he hadn't even opened the door for them. "Good morning to you two too."

"I text Ethan." Scott clued-up to a hurt-looking Stiles.

"How come Danny's here?"

The tanned boy shot Stiles a look as fearsome as any werewolf had ever given him and he buttoned it.

"Wanna shed some light on that?" Scott fixed his eyes with Ethan's and threw a little Alpha weight behind them. Stiles might balk but he wouldn't.

"Because I'm here to help."

"With our homework?" Stiles quizzed faux-dumbly.

"With your were-jaguar problem."

Stiles eyes bulged again, "What are you talk-"

"-don't bother he knows."

"You told him? Scott demanded of Ethan, immediately on his feet and eyes a glow.

"Put the reds away McCall," Danny calmed, stepping between the two werewolves, "I didn't need telling – point is I know why those hunters are following Kate and what she wants."

Isaac straightened now, running his hands over his face to wake himself up, "Which is?"

Danny turned to him, "Kate's hit about a dozen museums across Latin America without warning – including lastly an artefact from a Museum in Mexico City."

"The Calaveras backyard." Stiles murmured aloud.

"Exactly," Danny mock-praised, "point is they're items of religious significance taken from the Aztec empire. They were scattered all over at museums but Kate gathered them all together."

"So she went souvenir shopping?" Scott prodded, only half-joking. Something about this was worrying.

Danny was about to continue when a phone – Stiles's phone he realised when the spiky-haired boy snatched it violently from the coffee table – rang out.

"Malia?" he enquired anxiously, "_Where are you_?"

._._.

Stiles spun the jeep into the parking lot at the south-end of the woods and threw himself out of the car the minute it had stopped.

"Stiles!" Scott called after him but his friend was already gone, racing off towards the depths of the wood where he'd find Malia. Isaac, Ethan and Danny assembled more coolly at the centre of the parking lot.

"We'll cover more ground if we head different directions," Scott decided firmly, finding the leadership instinct coming to him naturally as always, "Ethan and Danny head west," he gestured in that direction, "Isaac head east," he pointed the opposite way, "and I'll go after Stiles and then north. If you find her call – when one of us calls head that way."

"Got it." The quartet split at speed.

Scott turned north in the direction Stiles had sprinted off and broke into a brisk run. After the first few strides he was immersed in the woods and the trees began to blur together in a single mossy green and grey mass. It might have been approaching mid-morning but the daylight barely penetrated the overhead canopy giving the whole place a feel of overwhelming darkness. There was a supernatural iciness too. Something, Scott could tell, was off.

His strides were stretching wider apart now as he pressed deeper into the woods – he should have found Stiles by now but the scent trail had evaporated. He leapt clean across a river and landed in a crouch the other side, getting his bearings. Suddenly he caught an altogether more dangerous smelling scent – Kate's, he deduced after thinking for a moment. With renewed energy he set off on the trail of the scent.

Leaves flew under his feet, swept up by his running and after a moment he could feel in the wind around him the energy of the other wolves in his pack – Isaac and Ethan – converging upon him. Finally under Kate's trail he caught Malia and Stiles's scents as he crept into a clearing. Stiles's body lay inanimate a couple metres away from Malia who was tied to the ground and looked terrified. At speed Scott swept in, ripped off the bands and had wrapped Malia in the most reassuring bear hug he could offer.

He could feel her tears and anger, and a subsequent spike in her energy. He spun round and locked eyes with Kate. Her immaculate blonde locks framed her face, a sharp contrast to her Werejaguar face and the distinctly animalistic claws stretched out from her fingers. Her face was drawn into a primal snarl and in the blink of an eye Scott's werewolf sense had asserted itself, eyes glowing.

"That's right Scott – get angry," she babied, her voice laced at once with mocking and venom, "have you ever seen an animal speared to death?" In the light of the clearing, glittering sunlight caught a shock of metal. Scott drew back out of intimate distance. He felt three presences at his back – the other boys.

"Get Danny out of here." Scott said under his breath, assured Ethan would hear it.

Unfortunately Kate did too.

"Awww, you brought a plaything with you?" Kate quizzed. Like a bolt of lightning she'd grabbed Danny and wrenched him from beside Ethan, putting him down in front of Scott. "You should know better than to bring toys – I thought you were older and wiser than that." With a seemingly light push she threw Danny across the clearing, leaving him to land with a heavy thud in a heap beside Stiles.

Malia was getting to her feet and charged Kate. The Were Jaguar was ready for the aggression, batting away Malia's claws she slammed her straight in the face with a punch and then threw her over her back, taking her out of the fight.

"Three-on-one," she purred seductively, "bad odds – for you, _that is_." She let loose an animal cry and lunged toward Ethan. The first swipe caught him off guard, gouging into his abdomen and then an uppercut to the jaw launched him skyward. As he was coming down she moved to deal with Isaac. Tricking him with a feint she dislocated his shoulder and then knocked his legs from under him with a sharp curving sweep with her leg. Curling her left leg up she elongated and smacked the butt of her heel into his face, sending him down in canon with Ethan as he hit the deck. "Oh dear – did I say three? I meant _one_."

Now she drew the dagger again. It had been concealed in those duels, Scott realised, in a hip-holster.

In an instant she'd driven forward to close quarters with Scott. Moving his mid-section swiftly Scott drew apart from Kate and kept moving side-to-side to avoid jabs from the dagger. He then spun round Kate and managed to land a kick in the small of her back, sending her tumbling forward. He realised almost immediately that was an error.

Kate seized the momentum and ran out of it, turning on her heel and bearing down upon Scott. On the split second he ran toward her, as they closed on one another he pricked out his claws and extended his hands to dig in either side of Kate's ribs. The point of contact came and he ripped into Kate, tore her into the air with force of his claws and hurled her behind him. He drew to a stop behind her, legs out-stretched and ready for round two. Kate landed in a deft crouch and turned to face him, a sickening smile stitching across her face, fighting through the pain.

A stinging became more apparent at Scott's side as she stalked slowly across the clearing toward him. As she drew up close to him he felt his legs go beneath him as his strength failed, and she ripped the dagger out, causing agony to scream out in Scott's head.

She knelt down beside him and leaned in close to his ear and whispered, "Oh Scott, you were good, but not good enough," she drew back and admired the blood-soaked dagger like an accessory, "thanks for your powers though." She jabbed her foot into his abdomen and swaggered off into the woods.

._._.

_This is long overdue, all written up now though and should be a new chapter everyday until completion – Acrobat x _


	5. And The Fever Began To Spread

Somewhere an artificial light source was throwing out grating and draining light. It flickered every so often – an indication of irregularities in the power source, and its secondary importance to the rest of the electricity routing in the building. Lighting for prisoners was about security for the guards and not a common courtesy. The supplementary generators had far more important roles than keeping prisoners out of darkness.

Araya Calavera had tortured many a supernatural beast down in the dank basement of the house she shared with her sons and wider family of hunters. All manner of creatures had been chained, broken and disposed of as and when the Calaveras needed. The question was never _if_ but _when_. She had seen a thousand backs broken, dozens begging for mercy and more still letting loose a final cry of agony before the blanket of death enveloped them finally. She would be lying if she said there wasn't pleasure to be found in drawing a hunt to fruition. Hunting was at once a sport and a family legacy. She did it not only because the Calaveras had since time immemorial but also because she enjoyed it.

Unfortunately her two most recent captives were proving rather more resilient. Even more unfortunately that took rather a lot of the fun out of it. Frustration did not result in amusement. One had been plucked from the scene of Were-Jaguar attack and the other had been left to stew for a while longer. Now that she was on the cusp of dealing with them personally, however, she couldn't deny beginning to feel excitement rising in her. Carefully plucking her way between the myriad captives and putting the agonising screams out of her head she made a beeline for the two restrained wolves. Both were handsome enough and both were lashed tightly to an expansive metal grate. Wires clipped onto the grille and grimy, oppressive-looking batteries hinted at the purpose of their particular personal prison. Araya always saved the best for herself and these would be a true challenge. She enjoyed _challenges_.

The two boys watching them, dressed in battered denim waistcoats and simple but durable khakis and combat boots stood aside as she approached.

"Guapos," she greeted, brushing her box-dyed mahogany hair out of her face, "why so down? Need a spark to brighten you up?" She plucked the control from her pocket and turned the dial slightly, rewarding herself a smile as electricity crackled through the two bound wolves. Their bodies spasmed but their eyes didn't open immediately. She turned the dial further still and a second burst crackled through their bodies. The result was the same though: body spasm and then stillness. A third and severer still blast of power finally bore results.

Lazily the wolves came around. Their eyes winked open a few times and then blinked to clear the dust before they snapped firmly and violently awake as another course of electricity spiked through their bodies from the grill they were lashed to.

"Now we can talk."

"About what?" The silver haired wolf prodded inquisitively.

In a blink Araya's smile was extinguished, "What does the jaguar want with the alpha?"

The two wolves exchanged a confused look.

"You don't know?" Araya's voice reeked of scepticism. She upped the voltage again and watched the energy crackle through them.

"I don't know what Kate wants." The dark haired one murmured through gritted teeth.

Araya regarded her gloved hands and crossed the small distance between them. She grasped the Werewolf by his chin and delighted in his pain as the wolfsbane laced into the material began to singe and burn his face, "You don't know, or you aren't willing to tell me?" She dug her fingers in like one of the vile claws of the wolves before her and then released as the wolf howled in agony. "Answer me."

"She took something from Gerard's Container – I don't know what and I don't know what she wants from Scott."

"So she wants something from the _alpha_?" The hunter's voice was distant and guarded now.

The silver wolf spotted an opportunity, "Perhaps you have something to share?"

"Perhaps." Araya confirmed, "In any case you two are more use to me as bargaining chips than playthings."

Araya rolled her eyes and gestured to the two grunts that had until that point been stood virtually motionless by the wall. "Release these two," she stroked her chin thinking, "you two are going to be part of a little trade – I give the alpha you two, and in return he gives me the jaguar. I am glad we are all on the same page."

The dark thought that had crossed Araya's mind was gone as soon as she saw the opportunity to survey the Alpha in the wild. The Jaguar would not have the initiative or audacity to pull off what she suspected, and being such a juvenile would be little much for as experienced an Alpha as the one who called Beacon Hills home.

._._.

Scott could tell something was wrong the minute he woke up.

For starters he was naked.

Second he could smell _Kira_. Had they…done _it_?

The minute his eyes were open she had thrown herself on top of him and wordlessly pressed a finger to his mouth.

This would suggest yes.

"My parents are just leaving," she whispered, "a lot has happened."

Scott smirked a little, pried her finger off and puckered his lips playfully.

Kira's dark eyes blossomed like a puppy's eyes. _Really? Now? _

_Yes, now_, Scott's eyes translated and pulling her down by the back of her head he wrapped her in an embrace and rolled over so now he was on top. As he bent to kiss her she pulled away and with a surprising amount of strength reversed their positions again, unwrapped her legs from around him and moved to the door of her room, opening it a crack. There was a near sound of a slam and Kira breathed a sigh of relief.

"Wait," Scott said, the reality of what had just happened dawning on him, "did you just…_overpower_ me?" Suddenly their bodily relations didn't seem much of a concern.

"Yeah," Kira replied swiftly, her face rapidly rippling into an awkward mess, "see the thing is…I mean…we figured out last night…after the boys brought you here-"

"-say it." He cut off, becoming restless.

"Kate took your powers." Kira stated bluntly. "I mean Deaton examined you and checked and…it all checks out…for all intents and purposes you're…normal again."

"Normal?" Scott threw himself out of the bed this time. Previously as an alpha he would have gracefully landed in a crouch and then elongated into a masterful pose of resilience and strength. This time he hit the ground hard, missed the landing and unfurled in a splat onto the floor of, what he could tell from the overwhelming scent of Kira, was definitely her bedroom. Rising on his arms he got to his feet and then swayed as his feet threatened to give way, before finally righting himself. "I feel so weak."

"Deaton said you'd feel woozy."

"Woozy? Kira, she _stole_ my powers."

"I'm aware of that…the whole, we're powerless, defenceless and now hopelessly outgunned thing has been drummed into me a few times since Ethan dropped your comatose body on the porch yesterday afternoon and told me to keep you hidden."

"So I've slept since then?"

Kira nodded, "It's morning now."

"You said Ethan dropped me here? What happened to Isaac?"

"She took him." Kira could feel the tears at the back of her eyes – the weight of the situation crashing down upon her.

Scott felt it like a dagger through the heart. Even deprived of his alpha abilities he could still feel the lingering bonds of his pack. He searched inside and found hollowness where Isaac should be. _Did that mean he was dead?_ He had put Derek to the back of his mind – something to not concern himself over. He snapped out of it, distinctly aware that Kira was not dealing well with the situation. Neither was he for that matter – but he needed a show of strength. Even without powers he couldn't crumble.

They both sank glumly onto Kira's bed.

"Whatever she's planning we have to stop her."

"We will," Kira said firmly, adding, "even though you're _normal_."

"Let's not talk about that? Maybe?"

"Sure."

They were silent for about half a minute.

"So what should we talk about?" Scott prompted sheepishly.

Kira squirmed awkwardly for a moment, then brought her raging awkward sense under control and allowed a devilish smile to form on her face. She pushed him back onto the bed and stroked the hair on the side of his head, teasing it playfully. "Maybe we should try doing instead of talking?" She bent down and kissed him softly.

._._.

"Rise and shine." Kate stated with all the insincerity she could muster. Something about babying juvenile werewolves still gave her a rush, even if she wasn't explicitly a hunter anymore. The bucket of water did the trick. Isaac was awake, shivering and instantly battling against the chains leashing him to the wall of the cave. He howled loudly and Kate let out a shrill laugh, "Seriously? You think a wolf call is going to get you out of this?"

Isaac looked like she'd bruised his pride. The misty eyes stared back now with defeat rather than menace.

"What? No stomach-turning monologue about how Scott will save you, and you'll all be sharing a milkshake, or whatever it is werewolves do as a pack once the villain of the week is dead and cold in the ground?" Kate laughed again, "I came back from the dead once and I don't plan on having to pull that trick again for a long time," she stalked closer to Isaac, "no words at all?"

Isaac looked her up and down, "You lack basic control." It wasn't a visual thing but a scent – beneath Kate's outward aroma of confidence there was an undercurrent of panic, chaos and fear. All things he'd once associated with himself and more recently with Malia. In the natural world it marked you as an easy target. He was also aware he'd hit a nerve because Kate had instantly shown her jaguar side.

Kate realised almost immediately she was showing her claws. She retracted them and drew her composure down over herself. She was back to square one: ravishingly attractive femme fatale rather than feral and deadly Were-Jaguar. "Control won't be a problem for much longer."

Isaac rolled his eyes, "Define _much longer_?"

"Nice Sass."

He looked a little disappointed.

"Oh you thought goading me would work?"

His face flashed. She had him right where she wanted him.

"Isaac I'd give you the four-one-one but I wouldn't want to worry your pretty blonde head about the dark and definitely life-threatening thoughts floating around in my head."

She crossed the cave and bent down beside a battered holdall before producing the still blood-soaked dagger from within it. Isaac had barely seen the blade up close at the fight in the woods. From an ornate curved handle the blade stretched for about fifteen centimetres upward and was curved. The blood red only enhanced the inset rubies that seemed to twinkle in their blood-drenched state. Kate admired it and smelt the length of it.

"I'm not a complete bitch," she commented, "some villains would have used a weapon that would have robbed Scott of his healing powers and left him to bleed out in the woods. I also didn't take out your little fox friend." She proffered the dagger to Isaac to allow him a better look. He could see exactly why it had taken Scott down with such ease. Advancing on her lead foot, in one swift movement, Kate had shallowly stabbed the blade into the top of Isaac's chest and at speed drew it down across his abdomen, drawing a wide cut that only came to an end on the lower left of his navel. Isaac stowed the desire to give Kate a cry of pain and fear.

At once his body raced to repair the cut but its process was slow.

"Don't look so scared Isaac – I don't want to kill you yet. I need the life of a Beta anyway," she reached out a hand to cup his cheek, "because your life essence, combined with Scott's alpha powers, will enact an Aztec curse that will allow me to drain the supernatural powers of all the creatures drawn to Beacon Hills by the Nemeton. Once I have those I won't need _any of you_." She changed the cup to a stroke and drew apart from Isaac.

"I went all over a continent for the pieces to forge the dagger. The Calaveras only twigged when I was nearly done what I was doing," she smirked to herself, "unfortunately that was too late – as they'll be too late to save you, Scott and your little pals – if saving you is even what they'd come to do."

She stopped short of leaving right away, "And before you get all hopeful about the regular law enforcement – Stiles's Dad, that hunky Deputy and the rest of the gun-toting entirely pedestrian saviours you should know I framed you for a double homicide in the woods. They'll be too tied up debating whether you did or didn't do it to be bothered about helping your little friends. Now get some rest: you look a little tired." She pushed her lip out in a false pout and then broke into a little indulgent snigger.

Isaac stitched a word together, "How?"

"I killed two campers," she studied Isaac, "oh how quickly you forget Isaac – you were out last night? Maybe your wolf nature took over for a few hours while you were healing? Even a rookie should know that." She smirked.

As Kate retreated into the darkness Isaac scented something ominous in the darkness. Two bulky and towering figures moved forwards momentarily, like something drawn from a nightmare. The scent was repulsive and Isaac choked back the urge to throw up, if only because his throat was already so dry. The darkness suddenly seemed omnipresent after Kate left him.

_Come-on Scott. Pull it together. _

._._.

"There's a psycho were jaguar out there, Scott has no powers, Isaac has been kidnapped, and I'm supposed to choke back cafeteria lasagne and pretend like our imminent doom isn't consuming my _every, waking, minute?_" Stiles spat in rapid fire, taking a huge breath at the end of his burst of panicked words.

Lydia rolled her eyes and forked a cherry tomato into her mouth, "Glad we're on the same page."

"Whatever Kate has planning skipping school isn't going to get us any closer to stopping her." Danny mused out loud.

Ethan nodded, squeezing Danny's hand beneath the table, "Act normal, stay calm and we can regroup tonight."

Lydia's attention had unfortunately been drawn by the entering bronzed vision. Then she spat out a tomato, which hit Stiles square in the face. As Malia sat down opposite her, for a moment she obscured Lydia's view of the cafeteria. She looked an awful lot more composed than she had in the woods last night. Her hair had been brushed, her eyes there usual formidable self and her nails painted rather than feral claws. Had Lydia not been so concerned by her hook-up she'd have felt proud she was starting to rub off on the coyote.

"You look like you just spotted your mate." Malia observed shrewdly. Stiles was still dumbstruck from the tomato splattered over his face.

Lydia's confident pretty girl visage slipped for a moment before reasserting itself and she concerned herself once more with her salad.

"Don't look up," she said, a smile fixed firmly to her face as if she was talking about something trivial like the new bag her Mom had picked out for her at the Mall, "and don't catch on that I'm talking about this but that guy is a hunter."

"Hunter?" Ethan prodded in an urgent whisper.

Lydia nodded and let out a shrill and entirely unexpected laugh, "Yes – of werewolves and god knows what else."

"How do you know that?" Danny prodded inquisitively. His eyes were deeply probing.

"I may…or may not have hooked up with him yesterday morning…in a janitor's closet."

Stiles looked a mixture of flabbergasted and disgusted combining in a truly unattractive facial expression, "You ever heard of the phrase, sleeping with the enemy?"

"Oh get over it – I'm hot, he was hot, we were both ignorant to each other's supernatural personality quirks – it's basic biology."

"Deadly biology." Danny said slicing through the atmosphere.

"Don't panic," Ethan murmured from beside Lydia, "but hook-up hunter is coming over."

"Fantastic." Stiles said with the height of irony laced into his voice.

As if the situation wasn't already bad enough the hunter had a stupid smirk splashed across his face that Lydia immediately understood to mean _we hooked up the other morning_. Unfortunately, though the lines between animal kingdom and Beacon Hills were beginning to blur with worrying frequency, Lydia couldn't rip out his throat and have done with him there in the cafeteria. Instead she smiled brightly, "Everyone this is Jaime."

He squeezed in besides Malia who only moved grudgingly and growled under her breath at having to do so.

"You all look so scared? I'm not here to kill anyone."

"Why are you here then?" Ethan fired, feeling colour rushing to his face. Danny placed a calming hand on his leg and instantly the werewolf wrapped his rage under control.

"Call it an infatuation – but I'm actually interested in helping," he commented, sneaking a furtive glance at Lydia who promptly started out of the window, her strawberry blonde hair swishing as she swung her head, "Araya and her thugs are on their way here to trade the Were Jaguar for the Hales."

Stiles blanched, "But we don't have the Were Jaguar?"

Jaime's dark brows accented the severity of his chestnut eyes, which radiated a message that translated as: _of course I know that_, "You don't have to have her now. You will get her though – or your friends will die: Araya does not leave without good reason. She is also concerned with observing the supernaturals in Beacon Hills – even in our vast experience a Banshee is a rare creature to behold."

"You won't help us then?"

"I gave you the warning that the Calaveras are on their way didn't I?" He smirked and rose. Then bent and kissed Lydia on the cheek, "Call me if you survive this."

She watched him walk across the cafeteria and with every step he took felt her rage rise a little higher.

"Capturing a homicidal Were Jaguar with the powers of an Alpha Wolf. No biggie." Stiles stated despairingly.

Lydia shot him an exasperated look, "Can you change the record? Instead of defeated panic and doom to like optimistic and plan-developing?"

"We can do it." Malia said simply between chicken wings. She devoured another, stripping it bare at speed, "Piece of cake."

They all looked at her mystified as to what was going around in her head. Malia put down her chicken wing and offered them an equally steely look. "Sure she kidnapped me and I freaked out but I got saved – bigger things than one Were-Jaguar have been taken down before."

"Let's go talk to Argent," Ethan suggested though it came across more as pseudo-Alpha wolf talk, "if anyone has something to stop her he will."

._._.

No matter the amount of pain medication coursing through his body, Chris Argent was still conscious of the many wires, tubes and drips stitched into his body by the Doctors. Hospitals gave him the creeps – something about being resigned to a bed and kept there under house arrest of sorts was deeply unsettling, especially for a hunter. Deprived of the open he felt closed off and trapped.

"Hello son."

Chris eyes shot open with alarm as a wheel chair ferrying the hunched form of his father crawled into the room. He fumbled for the beeper to summon a nurse urgently. Gerard's eyes immediately locked onto the hand movement and with one swell move a wrinkled hand had tore the wiring apart at the seam.

"I wouldn't scream or cry for help – it won't save you now." Pulling alongside Chris he pulled the intravenous drip from the bag and instead produced a vile of viscous blue liquid and inserted the intake end into it. In a moment the liquid was seeping down the wire toward Chris's blood stream.

"What are you doing?" Chris breathed desperately, wincing as the liquid began to seep into his blood stream.

"Nothing that will cause you much pain – regardless I need your silence son, you might ruin everything."

"_Everything_?" Chris probed feebly, his strength already sapping, "What have you done?"

"Something you didn't have the guts to do," he produced a handkerchief at that moment as he descended into a coughing fit and waited till he'd regained his composure to continue, "avenging Allison. I might have had to outsource this particular operation but I'm confident they'll get the job done."


	6. Living on a Fault Line

"I do struggle with getting _hung up_ on the little things Scott – you will have to forgive me."

The humour of the point was lost on Scott. Although the blood rushing to his head was making his vision distinctly woozy, he could still make out the smug form of Araya Calavera and feel her gaze scrutinising him as he dangled helplessly from the tree. She was looking at him like someone sizing up a deer head nailed to a wall. He did his best not to give away his discomfort.

"If you tell me what you want I can try to help you."

"Oh sweet guapo – there's nothing you could do to help me achieve my goal." She closed the distance between the two of them and through his bleary eyes Scott could see her smirking, "She has stripped you of your powers. You're nothing but a boy now." She gestured to one of her men who moved swiftly and cut Scott down, letting him land painfully with a thump on the ground.

"How do you know that?." Scott managed, feeling the blood starting to rush to his head.

"An Alpha Wolf wouldn't let unarmed men string it from a tree." Araya concluded simply.

She turned to the Kitsune, who's sheepishness turned into an outright cower under the withering gaze of the seasoned hunter. "How long ago was he stripped by the Jaguar?"

"Yesterday." Kira managed after a few moments silence.

From the darkness of the trees a figure stepped forward and advanced at speed toward Araya. The new arrival stood backwards, waiting to be addressed and extremely cool. In an instant Kira recognised the boy as Lydia's hook-up from the other morning.

"You found something for me Jaime?"

"The Tloxtoxl Curse."

Araya smiled a little to herself, "Very good – you sent McCall's friends to find more on it?"

"I told them the terms you discussed for the return of the Hales," he informed dutifully, keeping eye contact with Araya throughout, "their contact Argent was dead though."

"They will consult the Druid for a solution then – if indeed there is one to be found." Araya bent down beside Scott, who remained low to the floor and stretched out and raw from the fall. "Contrary to popular opinion – the Calaveras are not cruel but we are _just_. Your pack pose little threat here and if anything seem a benefit to it – take the Were Jaguar out and I'll return the Hales to you."

Kira blanched, "What if we can't?"

"If you can't," Araya turned to her, rising up to a standing height again and fixing her with a piercing stare, "I will kill every supernatural creature in Beacon Hills."

The fact that Argent was dead seemed to repeat throughout Scott's head. The entire hopelessness of the situation now seemed all-consuming. He had no powers, Kate had stolen his and the one person who might have any idea how to stop her was dead. It figured Kate would retrace her steps to finish the job that she started. Everything for her needed to go off like a hitch. Scott was determined he couldn't let that happen now that Argent was dead. He had to take Kate out for him as much as for himself. They would stop Kate whatever it took.

._._.

"This is super cute." Ethan said, tossing Danny around in the air before planting a soft kiss on his lips, that deepened with more passion as Danny pulled playfully on the hairs on the back of Ethan's head.

The werewolf drew apart scrutinising his boyfriend, "How come you never brought me here before?" _Here_, wherever it was, was beautiful. A crystal clear, thundering waterfall fed into a huge deep pool, bordered on one side by sprawling grassy field and the far side by hard stony slabs that jutted up violently from beneath the water. A single bench stood facing away from the waterfall and downstream toward the woods miles distant and Beacon Hills beyond them. It was something out of a fairytale.

"It's called the kissing pool for reason," Danny said flirtatiously, pecking Ethan again on the lips and then drawing apart, "and I haven't been back here in a long time. Me and Jackson used to hang here."

Ethan smirked, "You and _Jackson_?"

"Not like that," Danny shot him a playful look, "we just _messed_ around like friends do."

"Let's do some messing around of our own then." Ethan bit his lip and then changed tack licking them as he ripped his shirt-off, pulled his shorts down and sprinted for the pool, leaping into the air and tucking himself into a bomb as he landed with splash in the centre of the water. He surfaced and gestured for Danny to join him. His boyfriend's eyes sparkled at the prospect and he ran, tearing off clothes as he went, before leaping in after him.

Coming up under Ethan he wrapped his legs around his boyfriend's waste and leaned in for another kiss.

Suddenly serious Danny straightened up, putting distance between their faces but keeping his arms wrapped around Ethan's neck.

"Do you trust me?"

Ethan lifted a hand and tentatively ran his fingers across Danny's chest before locking eye contact, "Without question." He smoothed the other boy's hair back and straight onto his head. He studied him for a moment. Something seemed amiss for a moment and then it settled again.

Then Danny stabbed him in the neck with the syringe. Ethan let loose a primal yell that tore through Danny like a bullet. He thrashed in the water for a moment and then went slack in his arms. His legs came up from under the water and he began to float listlessly on the surface. Danny took a moment and began to pull him toward the shore. He spotted the old man at the top of the verge and stopped short of coming out of the water. Two towels were dismissively thrown down to them and Danny quickly wrapped himself, and then Ethan, tightly in them.

"I have the rest of the research you wanted and the wolf like you asked." Danny stated as he hauled Ethan to the top of the grassy verge. As soon as he'd stepped a metre clear Gerard's crew dove upon him, binding Ethan at ankles and wrists and fitting a mouth-guard over his mouth to keep it locked together: no unexpected bites.

"Your acting skills were second to none son," the older man regarded sceptically, "anyone would think you were enjoying yourself."

"They aren't like you or me, and I've seen what they've done to this town and it's evil. Beacon Hills will be better off once their kind are gone."

Gerard laughed heartily and genuinely, "You might have made a fine hunter in another life."

Danny threw a look of disgust toward Ethan's motionless body, "The sooner they're gone the better."

Gerard nodded and gestured for Danny to follow him down toward the beach just beyond the verge. They waited in silence for a moment, both entranced by the waterfall and then Gerard cleared his throat and spat black phlegm into his handkerchief.

"My son is out of the equation."

"Denied of his betas McCall is even more powerless than he was when Kate stripped him of his power."

Gerard caught Danny's eye for a moment, "What more could you find on the Tloxtoxl curse?"

Danny sighed, "I couldn't get any clarification on the potential side-effects of the counter-curse. As soon as Kate kills Isaac she'll have the ability to drain every supernatural in Beacon Hills. If we strip Ethan of his Beta powers and remotely activate the curse, you might strip Kate of her power but the accumulated energy will be released back into the wild. It might do…something to the environment."

Gerard shrugged, "That's a risk we'll have to take. Were-Jaguars are legendary enough – given the combined power of all the supernatural creatures of Beacon Hills she would be virtually unstoppable."

"When do we move?"

"When the moon is at its highest point tonight. Kate will use that to harness the power of the curse."

Gerard gestured behind him and two of the thugs bent down and grabbed either end of Ethan and carried him away to the truck.

"Where did you get them?" Danny enquired. He studied them – they wore black combats and pistols holstered at their waists. Whoever they were they shirked the Argent's preference for tradition.

"My family's hunting might be rooted in our history – but the Argent family was only part of an extensive network of hunters," Gerard elaborated, studying the men himself now, "others have moved with the times and others still freelance."

"They're French?"

"Perceptive: yes but an older family than ours and far less prone to bouts of emotion."

._._.

Malia had an aversion to the Animal Clinic. Something about the place was deeply unsettling. The trapped animals she could sense all seemed to draw her attention and demand she release them – as though she understood better than anyone their plight. Most of what Deaton did, Malia understood was to help animals. In any case he was a Druid or descendant thereof – if nature was your religion, harming it hardly seemed logical. Regardless the place gave her the creeps. The harsh lighting was draining and the whole place seemed to conspire to sap at her strength the moment she crossed the threshold. Deaton was there however – and it was his help they needed now more than ever.

She studied Scott intensely. His shoulders and posture remained strong. She could feel he wasn't an Alpha anymore though. There was an aura about Scott when he was an Alpha and one that radiated power. Now he was just…normal.

Beside him Deaton offered a stoic expression, Lydia looked lost in thought and Kira and Stiles both looked…_uncomfortable_.

"Where are Danny and Ethan?" She opened, deciding it was best to get the show on the road. She couldn't abide the desire in some of her friends to be awkward about things. If you were direct and got on with things, in the end they got completed. She hadn't survived by struggling about what to do in the wild.

"MIA." Lydia replied immediately and glumly.

Malia offered a facial expression approximate to a question mark.

"Missing in action," Stiles clued up, stepping forward and taking her hand, "but not having them doesn't have to be a problem." He wasn't sure if it was everyone else or himself he was trying to convince with that statement.

"Did you find anything on the dagger?" Stiles's eyes widened hopefully like a member of a litter at feeding time. Kira found that quite adorable.

Deaton nodded and turned his back for a moment and then slammed a large dusty volume on the metal table in front of them. He opened it to a marked page and ran his finger down it and settled once he'd found the appropriate passage. "That dagger is of Aztec origin. The elements Kate has stolen from across South America are stones to focus its power to enact an ancient curse designed to absorb supernatural power. The High Priests created it at a time of looming disaster and," he studied the document, "so the legend has it, having seized the supernatural powers they were able to overcome it."

"Kate already has the dagger and Isaac, and presumably Ethan, which basically means she has everything she needs to pull it off." Lydia supplied, having skimmed the pages from beside Deaton and processed exactly what it meant for their chances at that point in time.

"It's not over yet," Deaton countered, he flipped further on in the volume, "if you get the dagger and stab Scott it will return him his full powers and break the curse."

"Can we break it once she has the power of a Beta?" Malia quizzed.

Deaton shook his head, "If she's able to harness both then you'll have to wait for the curse to run it's course."

"What does that mean?" Scott's brows furrowed.

"The High Priests mastery over the supernatural ushered in a period of prolonged prosperity," Deaton paraphrased, eyes intensely scanning the worn pages in front of him, "but then entirely human factors – greed, envy and treachery – made the power unstable and ushered in a period of decline and eventual collapse."

"The Conquistadors." Lydia surmised.

Deaton nodded, "There's no indication of how long the time period would be for the power to become unstable though or what would happen under the power of Kate alone. With the controlling and focusing influence of the stones her control should be absolute."

"So we have to get close to Kate, steal the dagger and stab Scott?" Kira's eyes darted around the room searching for someone with a solution.

Deaton nodded, "A single prick of the blade will reverse the curse and return Scott his powers.

"We'll take her down then." Malia stated confidently, flexing her claws for added effect and wrapping an arm around Kira's shoulder. She caught a disapproving look from Stiles, "Or…distract her long enough to take the dagger from her."

"What about the rest of us, we can't just go in defenceless." Lydia reasoned aloud.

"What about the Sheriff?" Scott looked gleefully at Kira whose look of awe melted into one of happiness and then dissolved into formidable resolution.

"I'd rather we didn't involve my Dad in likely lethal supernatural activity." Stiles voiced nervously. Too often recently his Dad had ended up in the line of fire.

"Alright then – you and Lydia find Isaac and free him."

"What are you gonna do?" Lydia probed, squaring up to Scott.

"How different is a Katana to a lacrosse stick?" His eyes fixed on Kira now.

"I could teach you some basics – how long do we have?"

"Until the moon peaks in the sky tonight – once Kate has the full moon then she can begin the curse." Deaton's eyes flashed darkly across all of them.

"Where will Kate be?" Malia quizzed, realising that they were about to leap into a plan without a destination to sprint dramatically to.

"The sight of most supernatural significance in Beacon Hills – the place with most power and energy to support the spell." Deaton answered simply, shutting the book with a slam.

"The Nemeton." Stiles realised.

._._.

The occult was something foreign to Gerard as a hunter.

He dealt in it with more than a small degree of a hesitation. Throughout his life of hunting he had dealt in supernatural realities – physical werewolves, with physical powers and very obvious physical distinctions to mark them out in the world. Magic and sorcery was something he only held a vague understanding of and was consequently extremely wary of. The boy had proved more than adept at researching it for him though. It had saved Gerard a troubling job.

"You need one wolf for the spell." Danny stated rather than questioned.

Gerard turned and looked up from his chair, "Your research was most thorough about that. The power of a beta and I can remotely activate the spell and strip Kate of her powers."

"How will you achieve that?"

Gerard showed a steely gaze, "With the death of the wolf the spell will begin anyway – to focus it I simply need a crystal to focus the power. When I realised what Kate was seeking I stole away one of them – it's all I need."

Danny surveyed the crystal in Gerard's hand. It sparkled and glinted in the throes of dusk. It was just slightly opaque – almost imperceptibly so and seemed to have been cut from a larger chunk rather than being an organic construction of its own.

Gerard laughed, "You were in love with that wolf," the old man inclined his head toward Ethan's bound body, "why betray him?"

Danny's face was a wall of ice, "That's between me and him."

At that moment the wolf woke. His eyes flashed anxiously around and then locked upon Danny. It made a muffled yell before one of Gerard's companions moved over and kicked him a few times in the gut, effectively silencing him. Danny didn't flinch once at the screams or cries of pain. He gave little attention to the tears streaming from the wolf's eyes and instead kept his eyes fixed south. The Nemeton was obvious from this elevation and it gave them a perfect vantage point. In the distance he saw something move.

"They've arrived."

Gerard shook his head, "That isn't them arriving – it's some of Kate's friends leaving."

._._.

Stiles hated splitting up.

It wasn't the fact that he and Lydia were virtually defenceless. It wasn't even the fact that they were about to go into battle with a Were Jaguar with the ability to steal the powers of all the supernaturals in Beacon Hills. It was the fact that for the first time Scott would be powerless to save them. Somewhere buried in his subconscious, in the unique bond he shared with his best friend, something had always told Stiles it would be okay because Scott was there. It was an energy beating in his heart, a thought lodged in his brain and a comfort that gave him a feeling of warmth whenever he saw his friend. To many an Alpha Wolf would be terrifying but to Stiles all to often that Wolf had been his saviour. Tonight they had no such security.

Lydia was striding out alone. If Stiles spent less time thinking and more time walking, she reflected, they would already have rescued Isaac and be safely away. Unfortunately he hadn't. She drew up by a towering tree and waited for him. After a few seconds he caught up with her. Then a branch cracked somewhere near them. A bolt of lightning lanced up her back and Lydia suddenly felt rising anxiety.

"Which way did that come from?"

"Over there I think." Stiles pointed to the left, but at that moment another branch snapped in the opposite direction.

Lydia took a deep breath, "Probably just a rabbit or something – come-on." She set off at double pace now and Stiles this time kept pace.

They pressed on for another half mile until the Nemeton was in view. Now the real issue was finding Isaac. The clearing seemed empty. In the semi-darkness it was difficult to seem much at all. After scanning for a moment Stiles wordlessly gestured that they should move around the clearing in a circle to get a look at the opposite side from them. After traversing the clearing for about half a minute they spotted Isaac. He was restrained on a log that seemed to have been uprooted clear from the ground by great force.

"Were-Jaguars can lift logs now?" Stiles demanded in an exasperated half whisper. Lydia ignored it and scanned the clearing once more before breaking cover and sprinting for Isaac. She heard the whooshing sound a minute before stopping as a log came tumbling down out of the heavens to cut off her progress. She span round looking for who had thrown it and realised Stiles had been cut off by another log drop half way between them. She started back toward him and a second log came tumbling down to stop her movement. She squinted through twilight looking for whoever was responsible.

"Do you see them?" Stiles yelled, wary of moving in case the logs that seemed to be raining from the sky squashed him.

Lydia started shaking her head and then clocked the enormous shadows bearing down upon the pair of them, "Stiles run!"

She didn't need to yell twice. In a blur the two of them were sprinting back for the tree line. Lydia half hoped the things were just there to chase them off Isaac but a subsequent crash of splintering wood and cracking branches told otherwise. She lost Stiles as the woods became denser and sprinted until she came upon a suitably dense expanse of woodland. Among the densely nestled trees, she hoped she would at least be able to hear the creatures coming and hopefully double back toward the clearing.

"I think we made it."

The voice terrified her and she was halfway to high-kicking the person involved until she saw Stiles standing a few inches from her.

"I thought you were…one of _them_."

"Talk, dark and entirely terrifying?" He smiled sheepishly, "Sorry, not me!"

A tree shattered to their left and a second exploded into splinters on their right. The creature on the left found them first. Lydia dived to the right and breathed a sigh of relief when Stiles landed beside her. She clambered to her feet but he didn't move. While the first creature circled back she shook him and then rolled him over. A sickening trail of blood was seeping from a head wound down his face.

"Stiles," she slapped him, "Stiles come-on." She shook him by his shoulders but he didn't respond. As soon as she let go his body slumped back into the wood.

Lydia looked up into the towering and hideous skeletal faces of the creatures. She stifled the urge to vomit at the smell and scrambled to her feet, sprinting off back toward the Nemeton. She would be back for Stiles she promised herself – she wouldn't leave him in vain. She needed to get Isaac, _fast_.


	7. Web That You Weave

The air around the Nemeton crackled with energy. It was like the adrenalin of the amusement ride, the wonder of Christmas Day and the rush of wind through your hair riding a bike, all at once. Kate had never felt that spiritually connected before in her life. At once she could taste chaos and a sublime chorus of tranquillity in the air – she was on the precipice of something that could define her future and gift her power over all things. Her dominion would be not only the natural world but the _supernatural_ too.

Somewhere to the north she could sense her Berserkers pursuing Lydia. Stiles was already an irrelevance – dying slowly and painfully somewhere, destined, Kate knew without need of foresight, to never recover. She smirked to herself. She had missed the feeling of life leaving a body. Soon, she told herself, she would see the departure of life for herself. She circled towards Isaac and reached out, stroking playfully across his strained chest. He tensed under her touch and she smirked, "I promise I'll be _gentle_."

That promise would have to wait.

Kate turned to face the three advancing teenagers and spread her legs wide, dropping low to the floor and braced herself to spring forward into attack once they were close enough. Power-deprived Scott held a katana awkwardly, the Kitsune, despite an outward sheath of confidence betrayed her anxiety in her scent and the Were-Coyote despite definite ferocity, by betraying her anger, demonstrated a failure to master and harness it. Kate would make no such error.

Hurling herself forward like a lithe Jaguar, Kate pounded across the open area toward them and en route selected her target – the central Kitsune. Her electrical powers _and _katana made her a double threat where the others only had one card to play. The ferocity of the attack caught the Kitsune off guard for a moment. She flinched before throwing herself backward – trying to put distance between herself and Kate to focus. Kate gave no distance.

In a moment she was upon the Kitsune. Inside her swing the katana became useless. Or at least Kate thought so.

A boot to her abdomen that knocked her backward a few metres said the Kitsune wasn't outmanoeuvred so quickly. Now Kate was driven back as blows rained swift and fast, high and slow, stitching the air around her with swipes. Kate fell back a further three metres as the Kitsune's blade became swifter and more precise all the time. A few cuts even found their mark and as they moved closer to the Nemeton, Kate realised she was being driven towards the other two.

_Time to level the playing field_. Leaping back a metre Kate sprang into the air and somersaulted behind the Kitsune. Momentarily wrong-footed Kate seized the initiative. Striking from behind she grabbed the Fox's katana-hand and forced the blade from her wrist by digging her claws into it. Secondly she broke the arm with one swift and audible motion and then for good measure swung her foot round, striking the Fox at the head and knocking her out of the fight cold. As the raven-haired girl tumbled to the ground she saw the brutality of the riposte had taken her companions by surprise.

She could also detect a spike in the Coyote's anger levels and that made her perfect fry.

Kate smirked and let loose a cry before breaking into a sprint toward the Coyote.

They were ready this time however and took turns attempting to spar with her.

Fortunately however McCall had only a basic grasp of the Katana. Where the Fox had struck at speed and with accuracy, his moves were sluggish and unrefined. There was little technique to his movements. Kate could easily parry the blade with only her arm. Her ensemble – leather ankle boots, leggings, vest-top and leather jacket – may have seemed pedestrian but it gave her maximum freedom of movement. Most of Scott's cuts only sliced the material anyway.

The Coyote was a different problem. A swirling maelstrom of rage, she alternated feral animalistic attacks with Scott's blunt form of sword-fighting. The sparring was evenly matched for the most part, but Kate was aware she would soon tire and also aware that they were after something. They wouldn't randomly engage her without a purpose and her Berserkers wouldn't have discovered the other two if they weren't trying to free Isaac. It was likely, she suspected, they were after the dagger. Unfortunately Kate had other ideas.

With a swifter than expected chop to Scott's wrist he dropped the katana, which Kate grabbed and tossed distant from the battle. Unarmed he was little fight, as she broke him with a few well-aimed punches to the gut and an uppercut to the jaw. He hit the deck with an ominous sounding crunch. That left her with the Coyote. She might have been a storm, but in Kate's experience, those always abated.

Able to focus her undivided attention on the Coyote, Kate rapidly forced her onto the defensive. Now Kate drew blood, gouging thick grooves into the girl's abdomen and left forearm. The Coyote responded in kind but only managed to graze Kate's thigh and that didn't stop the Jaguar's assault. Aware she was gaining the upper hand Kate pressed ahead. Kate smashed her head against the Coyote's, disorientating her and then knocked her feet from under her with a sweep of her left leg. The Coyote went down and was about to stand up when Kate bent down and dug the dagger deep into her stomach. It would have no supernatural significance but the wound would take a significant amount of healing time – time they couldn't afford if they wanted to stop her.

She could feel Scott's gaze on her back as she retraced her steps toward Isaac.

At the same moment Lydia burst from the trees on the opposite side of the forest, spotted Isaac and then spotted the devastation Kate had carved across the clearing. The agonising cries of Malia and Kira were the only sounds in the clearing.

"Just in time." Kate smirked and turned to Isaac, "And now it begins." She raised the dagger to the Wolf's chest and set the point above his heart.

Then she felt the bullet split through her.

She turned searching for the weapon and cried out again as a second bullet ripped through hair and spat out the other side of her body. Her eyes finally fell upon a wheelchair and a boy advancing across the clearing. They were followed by a larger party, who were carrying someone on a stretcher. Clutching her side she stood up straight and turned to face them, keeping one hand resting on the dagger's hilt.

"It's over Kate," Gerard declared, "I'm here to kill you."

"Funny – I was just about to say the same thing."

The group of men behind tossed forward the stretcher and it unfurled a bound wolf onto the floor.

Kate's confidence evaporated from her face and she felt the colour drain from it.

She dropped to her knees, feeling her wounds healing all the time and then tossed the dagger toward them and threw herself to the ground, "Have mercy." She screeched, looking up and staring at them through tear-strained eyes.

The boy advanced upon her now, dark eyes studying her and watchful and he dropped down beside the dagger. He then slowly retraced his steps toward Gerard before dropping down beside the bound wolf.

He muttered something under his breath to the wolf whose eyes blanched wide at that.

"In a few moments you will cease to exist Kate." Gerard grinned smugly.

"I'm afraid I can't let that happen." Danny turned toward the old man, levelled the pistol and fired three shots into him at once. He then bent down and stabbed Ethan in the heart, dragging the dagger down across his chest and then stood back as his Beta force tore out of his body and toward the dagger. In one move Danny had tossed it back to Kate who picked it up, wiped her crocodile tears clear and stood to survey the beginning curse around her.

Gerard regarded her with utter vitriol before the residual force of the kanima was extracted from within him. Kate walked toward him and replicated the look, "If you were younger you might not die – but unfortunately your pathetic, withered excuse for a body will expire almost as soon as this," she indicated the dagger, "is done extracting the minute supernatural remnant still buried in your husk." Gerard tried to turn his head toward his goons but Kate had little concern for them, already her Berserkers were converging upon them and grunting hunting cries.

Tearing them limb-from-limb, the berserkers struck and scythed through the ranks of the assembled hunters with impunity. The air became thick with the scent of blood and the screams of dying men. _Small pleasures_, she confided to herself.

Lydia had collapsed to the floor as her powers too converged upon the dagger.

If anything Kate almost regretted not using Isaac: he'd been such fun to tease it felt a shame to waste him. The dagger glinted in the fresh blood of the wolf discarded on the floor. Kate stuck out a finger, scraped some off and tasted it. She turned back toward her accomplice who was surveying the scene grimly.

"I'm suitably impressed," she conceded, "even if you didn't tell me he was bringing a gun."

"Last minute change of plans – I couldn't control everything."

"You said he killed Chris?"

Danny nodded simply. That struck like ice in Kate's heart. Gerard was an awful person but she'd never have thought he'd kill Chris. Kate had only put him in life-threatening danger because it amused her. At least she had achieved some measure of vengeance for him – and wherever he was, Chris could look down and know that his sister for all her many faults had finally removed their Father from the world. She'd also avenged Alison for her now departed parents and could look forward to an extremely powerful future.

"It kind of sucks though."

Kate twisted her lips in confusion, "Losing Chris?"

"Getting shot I mean – those don't look like their healing."

"They were…" Kate touched at her abdomen and found the wounds were still bleeding and weren't healing. The skin she'd felt growing back a moment before had begun to recede again. As she touched them pain surged through her and she dropped to her knees, clutching both hands to her stomach and gritting her teeth to stop herself crying out in agony.

Danny crouched down beside her and neatly plucked the dagger from Kate's weakening grasp.

"I must be a really sucky accomplice – first I don't tell you you're gonna get shot, and then I forget to mention the bullets are laced with a rare Night Shade, native to the Amazon basin and entirely lethal to Were-Jaguars. You really need to get better staff."

"You!" Was all Kate could manage between increasingly frantic breaths as the poison began to weave its web through her blood stream. She rolled onto her back, clutching her stomach and snatching breaths through her nose and exhaling rapidly through her mouth, all the time watching Danny like a wounded gazelle watches a prowling big cat.

"Yeah…me," he smiled a little, "see it's funny that in a curse so concerned with the supernatural – the get out of jail free card was something entirely mundane. If a non-supernatural stabs the person who enacted the curse, they die and everything else goes back to normal. The price of the curse falls on any supernatural enacting it or touching the blade. Which in sum means you lose."

With that he drove the dagger into Kate's heart and kept his eyes locked with hers as he watched the life flash for a final time before her eyes before it died away. All was still for a moment before the reserved energy exploded from the dagger and threw Danny clear across the clearing. The darkness of the night was broken by the radiating waves of honey-coloured power, returning to the forest and those deprived of their abilities within it. Lydia shielded her eyes from the glare of the collapsing spell and felt her strength slowly but surely returning to her. Then she remembered Stiles and willed her body into action, surging back into the woods.

She drew up shortly after entering the woods though, as the spectres of Kate's muscle reared up before her and grunted menacingly. Then in the blink of an eye they had gone and vanished. Lydia breathed a sigh of relief and threw herself forward. She stumbled and tripped and tumbled through the trees back toward where Stiles had fallen urgently. She had to get to him. _She had to_. Splinters bit into her arms, branches tore cuts into her legs and still she pressed on toward Stiles. Finally she found him, curled up, silent and still beneath a log. She bent down beside him and shook him again, blood was still streaming from his head wound and she could feel he was cold.

"Stiles," she demanded clearly and loudly without response. "Stiles," she tried again, and then sounding more strained once more, "Stiles."

Other people might have crowded around her, and in the back of her mind, Lydia was aware she was somehow being taken apart from Stiles. Lights were flashing, somewhere a siren screamed and a million and one voices pounded at her but she didn't care about of them. There was just one voice she wanted to hear, one voice and one alone.

._._.

_One week later_

"This lasagne is still terrible." Stiles appraised, picking it up on his fork to demonstrate how solid it was and then smashed it down on his plate, emphasising the point glumly.

Malia swallowed her equally solid mouthful of pasta, "It tastes better than dirt."

Across the other side of the cafeteria Scott teased Kira's hair and pecked her on the lips again, their fourth playful and adorable kiss in as many minutes. His eyes burned red for a moment and he blinked to get them back under control – it was like getting use to powers all over again. Kira sent a crackle of electricity into him to shock him back into the moment and out of his internal focus on his powers.

"What did they say about you arm?" He inquired.

"A nurse may have somehow gotten my broken arm downgraded to a mild sprain between the results being sent to the lab and coming back." She smirked back.

They crossed the cafeteria to join Stiles and Malia who continued to bicker like an old married couple.

"Why would we do math homework when there's so much better stuff to do with our days?"

"Because we need math to have a future."

"I didn't need math in the wilderness."

"Well we aren't all Were-Coyotes." Stiles shot back fiercely.

Kira and Scott couldn't fail to laugh at them, which got disgusted looks from the pair of them.

Lydia swung onto the table next, crossed her legs and dumped her satchel heavily on the floor beside her.

"Jaime gone?" Kira prodded.

Lydia nodded, "Seems everybody wants to leave town."

"Did Dethan say where they were going?" Stiles asked, glad for a change of topic from the rowing with Malia.

Lydia shook her head, "Beyond saying the horizon of course."

Scott nodded, "Ethan was always more of a lone wolf anyway."

"Danny too – without Jackson I mean." Kira looked urgently to Lydia to make sure she hadn't put her foot in her mouth, but the strawberry blonde shook it off with a smile.

"We're all still here and that's what counts." She looked resolutely bright.

Scott nodded, "Together."

At that point his phone buzzed into life, he rifled in his pocket and eventually plucked it out of the seemingly bottomless depths of his jeans.

"It's a text from Deaton," his face glowed with urgency, "he needs us at the clinic."

._._.

Selina wasn't quite sure what to say or do.

Somehow she seemed frozen to the same spot she'd been stood in for the past twenty minutes. The diner was dead. Long before it had buzzed with life until a stranger walked in. Judging from his heavy trench and entirely unnecessary buccaneer boots he was from out of town. The notion that the stranger might not only be from out of town, but also, perhaps from beyond the idyllic confines of Currant Valley altogether, had only crossed Selina's mind once he ripped out the throat of a guy picking up a second milkshake for his daughter.

When blood had splattered in her face, as two teenagers on a first date were decapitated before her and she saw a man's head used as a projectile she had realised she was in mortal danger. Yet, for all that violence, she couldn't move. Somehow she was rooted to the spot, destined to be a mere observer to the horrifying spectacle before her and the slaughter conducted at length against the panicked and trapped masses. Besides her there remained only one boy. He however seemed uncannily calm amidst the bloodshed.

In fact he hadn't so much as looked up from his burger, fries and shake throughout the whole thing. As she felt teeth tear into her throat, prise the skin apart and blood begin to surge out of her neck and down over her shoulder, she suddenly realised she too was about to die.

As the waitress dropped, the stranger crossed to the last remaining boy and stalked him in an increasingly small semi-circle like a shark waiting to strike an unsuspecting steal. Finally he moved in close to the boy and leaned into his ear, the fresh blood on his mouth dripping onto the boy's shoulders and slowly staining his jeans a dark scarlet.

Then the door to the diner opened.

An impressively chiselled boy was crossing it, his hair a cropped but heavily styled auburn colour and his shirtless chest rippling with muscles.

"Dude – don't bleed on my boyfriend, I bought him those jeans: they were a _special gift_." He loosed a roar and hurled himself across the diner toward the stranger.


End file.

Teen Wolf, Drama