Title: Avatar Alpha

Rating: T

Spoiler: season 1&2 Teen Wolf, Avatar the movie

Disclaimer: I own neither Teen Wolf nor Avatar

Warnings: Character deaths, Slash

Pairings: Tsu'tey x Stiles, Lydia x Tom

I stirred slightly as I came to from my six-year extended sleep. Opening my eyes I couldn't help but agree with Riddick. Your brain does shut down in cryo-sleep, except your most primal side, your animal side. I can now attest to that. Sighing I waited for the pod to open, thinking back to what brought me here, to Pandora.

My name is Stiles – well really Genim – Genim Stilinski, but everyone calls me Stiles. Or Dr. Stilinski, either will do. I was sixteen when my world flipped and seventeen when my world fell to pieces crumbling around me.

When I was sixteen my best friend was bitten, and not by a dog, or a cat, or any animal he worked with at the Vet clinic, as was his job. No he was bitten by a werewolf. Peter Hale to be more specific. Now here is where a little history is needed. The Hale's were a large family that everyone in Beacon Hills knew, but weren't aware of in the fact that they were a large pack of werewolves. They were all killed in an inferno, set by – well I am getting ahead of the story. Where was I – oh yes – the only survivors of the fire was Peter Hale, though he was badly burned, said to be catatonic, Laura Hale, newly made alpha from tragedy, and Derek Hale, Laura's little brother and Peter's nephew.

I was only sixteen when I met Derek, coming to look for Laura. To find Laura dead, torn in half by another werewolf, by a new alpha. He didn't think of Peter, no one thought of Peter. Derek showed Scott the ropes, though they never trusted one another.

I was sixteen when she stepped into the picture. Allison Argent, Scott's new flame, new reason for living, she gave him control over his animal. Allison was Scott's mate. Allison was the reason he pulled away as much as he did, even though I did everything to help him. To train him just as much as Derek with better results. She was from a family of hunters – men and women that kill and eradicate man killing supernatural creatures.

I was sixteen when my best friend tried to kill me.

I was sixteen when Peter offered me the bite, and bit the love of my life at the time, Lydia Martin. I was sixteen when I helped kill a man, and watched Derek become our alpha, in crazy Peter's place. All the while learning Kate Argent was the one to set the Hale house a light, was the hunter that massacred a pack of innocent werewolves breaking code.

I found out that Lydia didn't die from the bite, but wasn't turned either – she deteriorated before my very eyes. And she only ever loved Jackson; I was nothing more than that boy that never stood a chance.

I was sixteen when Derek turned Jackson Whitmore, a selfish boy/man that only ever wanted to know where he belonged in the world. It was the reason he didn't turn into a werewolf, why his transformation was delayed. He became something else, something much more terrifying.

Isaac was next, a severely abused boy, misfit one. Next was Erica, a girl that had epilepsy, and was slowly dying, misfit two. Next was Boyd, he had no friends, misfit three. They made up Derek's new pack – a pack of misfits.

Then Jackson had begun killing people, though we didn't know it was him at the time, or that he was being controlled by a boy that had issues, like galore.

Sixteen when I created an ash circle, containing and trapping Jackson, but had to break it because Allison's mom was killing Scott and Derek needed to get to him. Derek bit her, she killed herself, and Allison went fucking crazy with guilt.

I was sixteen when my father almost found out about the supernatural, and Scott's mom did. We were held up in the police office, connecting dots on who was controlling Jackson when he came to the station. He was killed that night by Allison's grandfather, who had come into town with Kate's death.

Lydia had gone crazy, Peter taking over her mind. I was sixteen when Peter was resurrected.

I was sixteen when I became the hero of the lacrosse team, and was brutally tortured in one night. When I had to drive Lydia to save Jackson, and Scott pretended to be a traitor to Derek. When Allison's grandfather was a traitor and wanted the bite because he was dying. He was killed, poisoned. Jackson as the Kanima died as well, whereas Jackson the werewolf finally saw the light of day.

I was sixteen when I heard of the alpha pack, and knew my world had flipped on its axle.

I was seventeen when myself and Scott officially became pack; Lydia and Allison following soon after.

Seventeen when the Alpha pack finally made its move, when they decimated us – as we decimated them. There were seven of them, vicious in there attack. They had killed Boyd, catching him in the woods. We tracked their weakest link, a smaller girl, with flaming red hair and cruel grey eyes. The battle following was harsh. . .

Erica was the first to fall, her throat ripped clean from her throat by another female. She had blond hair, and resembled Erica to the point they could pass as twins. She went after Allison next delivering a fatal blow just as Allison got shot her with an exploding arrow. She went up in flames. Chris Argent was fighting along Scott at his back when he saw his daughter perish, looking over as Scott let out an inhuman scream of pain and rage.

I was seventeen when I watched my best friend fall to the ground lifeless, as he was ripped to pieces alongside Chris. They did manage to take out one of the bigger males, along with a squirrelier boy.

I watched as another alpha's hand ripped through Jackson as he protected Lydia. I shot him in the back from my snipping position from the top of the house, slowing down his progress as he approached a wounded Lydia. She was screaming incoherently at Jackson, not paying her back any mind, or the battle going on around her. Peter ripped him away from Lydia's distraught form. I watched as he took the alpha on, both vicious in their approach and tactics. Peter finally delivered a killing blow to counterpart, not without injury to his chest and right leg.

Turning Peter went to help Derek and Isaac with the last three, taking on the last female alpha. He didn't last more than a few blows before crumpling to the ground. Derek and Isaac fought valiantly. That's when I saw it; my father's car approaching fast. In a matter of minutes I watched my father die, brutally, and I was only seventeen. He had gotten out of his car and pulled out his gun seeing the carnage strewn across the ground. I sucked in, my eyes widening, the third alpha broke away from the fray with Derek and Isaac, running full speed at my dad. My dad didn't stand a chance, he fell lifeless and I couldn't breathe, couldn't move.

Derek and Isaac used the absence of the third alpha as an opportunity, killing the other two fast. Isaac didn't last another second as the last alpha took him down in rage; he let out a straggled scream. Derek faced him next, and I jumped down from my vantage. I approached gun ready. I saw Derek fall, eyes wide and crimson still, but lifeless. I riddled the alpha with bullets till he fell under the toxicity of that much wolfsbane in his system. I took my opportunity, and I crushed his windpipe with my bare hands.

I felt it then, a rush of euphoria, of power. I knew if I had a mirror to look at myself in I would have glowing blood red eyes, just like the blood staining my hands.

I was seventeen when I became the first ever human werewolf alpha – and boy was that a mouth full. I was only seventeen when my world imploded on itself.

I went to live with Scott's mom, Lydia staying over more often than not. We couldn't stand being separated and soon became something resembling siblings. We graduated high school a year early, concentrating on just getting out. Being anywhere but there – Beacon Hills was hell on earth.

We both got into MIT, the Hale funds left to us taking care of the cost. It took a year before either of us began to branch out to other people, to make other friends. In our little circle we were known as 'the twins', quiet mostly only ever really talking to each other, sometimes for each other in large groups.

I became the youngest professor on staff at MIT after an internship at a lab, and gaining a PHD.

Lydia went on to become recruited into the Avatar program by Grace Augustine, becoming the youngest scientist on staff to be trained. Dr. Augustine wanted the pair of us but Lydia and I decided maybe it was time to branch out even more. That didn't stop me from helping research.

At the age of twenty-five I became the third leading expert on Pandora and the Avatar program, only after Dr. Augustine, and Lydia – Only possible because of high Adderall doses. Lydia was set to be traveling to Pandora in a year's time; I would stay here on this disgraceful heap of a planet. The alpha in me didn't like that, raged about it actually, especially around the full moon.

A year later and only a week before Lydia's departure was when strategy struck my life once more. I felt it the moment it happened, like a bullet to the chest, directly in my heart. I knew in that instance what had happened. Lydia – my Lydia – had died. She was murdered in cold blood, and in that instant I was left with nothing. No Lydia, no family, no pack, and no home.

Author's Note:

Hey folks so I was watching Avatar and came up with this crossover. Its a story that I may or may not finish but - ha ha - I hope I do. So I really don't have a plan or plot for this story, its just a filler and a go to when I need a break from the one I am working on - Nightfall's Melody. I welcome all input and or plot ideas for this story, so please give me any and all feedback of the positive, critiquing, and plotting sort.

Thanks,

WWSE