| CHAPTER ONE, Can We Bring 'Em Home With Us? |

"Scott!" came Reid Garwin's voice from the terminal door he just exited. Scott McCall and Isaac Lahey turned towards the source of the sound to see the blond Son of Ipswich grinning at them, tugging a petite suitcase behind him, Tyler Simms hot on his heels. Scott and Reid exchanged fraternity-like handshakes first, Isaac and Tyler doing the same before they switched.

"How was your flight?" Scott asked as he led the four of them to Isaac's new car in the Oakland International parking lot.

"Long," Reid replied. "Had some good chicken dish, though."

"Christ, Reid," Tyler gasped, smirking and shaking his head.

"What?"

"You have no standards," Tyler said. "And by the way, that was pork."

"Was not. That was chicken."

"The lady next to you had chicken."

"Whatever," Reid ended the fight. "It was good."

"You really don't have standards," Isaac said, smirking at the blonde.

"Fuck you all," Reid said. The three others exchanged smirking glances as Reid frowned, looking straight ahead. When they reached Isaac's new BMW 5 Series Gran Turismo, Reid and Tyler placed their suitcases in the trunk.

"Impressive," Tyler said, looking over the luxury car.

"European," Isaac said with a grin before getting in the car. As Tyler moved to do the same, to sit behind Scott on the right side of the car, that's when they heard it.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" came a shrilling screech. Tyler immediately snapped his head to look at the source, only to see a large group of people running, the ones in the back faster than the ones in front. And the people in the back were tackling the people in the front.

"Tyler!" came Reid's voice.

"Drive," Scott ordered as Tyler closed the door. Instantly, Isaac leaned fully on the gas and he began to swerve in and out of traffic, both flowing and on-coming. Scott, who was gripping the side of his seat and the oh-shit bar above his head, looked over at Isaac to see his boyfriend's eyes glowing yellow—Isaac was using his full werewolf vision and reflexes to get them through the building traffic as more and more people became aware of the chaos back at the terminal.

"What the hell was that?" Reid yelled to no one in particular, looking through the rear window to see the chaos erupting behind them. While Isaac concentrated, Scott switched the audio from AUX—Isaac's iPod—to AM radio to a news station.

"This is an emergency broadcast recorded from the governor's office in Sacramento. A pandemic sourced at LAX and Oakland International has been linked to related outbreaks at JFK, Dulles, and other international airports. The public is advised to stay clear of all airports at this time and stay in their homes to avoid contracting the virus. Through federal advisory the governor's office recommends the total evacuation of Los Angeles and San Francisco at this time." Beep. "This is an emergency…"

"The fuck?" Reid expressed first.

Scott whipped out his cell and hit speed dial for his mother. Busy. He then tried calling Stiles. Busy also. Cooper. Busy. Danny. Busy. Allison Clare. Busy. Allison Argent. Busy. Lydia Martin. Busy. "The cell net's exploded," he said, looking back at the warlocks.

"Yeah," Tyler said, lowering his own phone from his ear, "I can't reach anyone back home."

The car swerved rather harshly and Scott almost smacked his head against the window. They were on the highway now, headed fast for Beacon Hills at 90 mph on the emergency personnel shoulder. That is until other people ahead had done the same and they began to build up in the deadlock. "C'mon, asshole!" Isaac yelled, his eyes back to normal now.

"Isaac, it's alright," Scott said, placing a hand on his outstretched forearm. "We're outta' there."

"I just…"

"What?"

"I just have a bad feeling about all this, Scott."

— | WWZ | —

After some amazing maneuvering, taking back roads, and unrestricted speeding, they finally pulled into the gated garage under the apartment complex that Scott and Isaac shared a studio at. Once inside, they found Stiles, Gage, and Cooper each looking at Scott for direction. "Where're the others?" Scott asked.

"Allison and David," Stiles began, "are at the store getting supplies. Haven't heard from Danny. Hopefully he's not still at UCLA."

"Have you spoken to your dad?"

"Yeah," Stiles said, shaking a little hand-held radio in his hand. "He's gonna' pack some things and grab your mom." Stiles looked from his girlfriend and then back to Scott. "Any ideas?"

"Hold up in here. See if it gets to Beacon Hills."

Stiles was about to add a sarcastic retort concerning Scott's still lack of three-step-ahead planning when the front door behind Scott swung open. Allison Clare walked in, a multitude of plastic bags in her hands and behind her was her brother, David, who was supporting a bloodied Danny to remain vertical.

"What happened?" Scott asked as he helped David lay Danny's barely conscious form on the leather sofa.

"Dunno,'" David began, "when we got back, we found him in the parking lot slumped over on his bike.

"Danny," Scott began, peering over the barely conscious form of his pack mate, "can you hear me?"

Danny's eyes opened slightly and he smiled. "Hey, Scott."

"What happened?"

"You know," he began, his voice in a stupor, "I've always had a bit of a crush on you, right?"

"Danny," Scott repeated, his eyes dimming red. "Focus," he ordered. Danny made a small nod. "What happened to you?"

"Got hit by a tractor…" He paused, his eyes closing before Scott shook him slightly. "…by a tractor trailer."

"His bike doesn't even look scratched," David added.

"No, no…not on my bike. Crossing the street. I was…I was carrying…" Huff. "I was…"

"Rest, Danny," Scott said, watching Danny's eyes close again and a few tears slide out. He turned to Stiles who was already digging through his bag. "You'll look after him?" Stiles nodded. "I'm gonna' go look on the internet. See if there's anything more to this."

"Scott," Stiles said, kneeling next to Danny but looking at his best friend, "don't panic when you see the pages I left up."

Scott nodded and left to go into the small den. "I'll go with him," Isaac said, looking at Stiles.

— | WWZ | —

Unfortunately, Scott did panic. He had a panic attack all too similar to the one he had on the day of his second full moon. After Allison first called a break between them. When he'd rushed out of his chemistry exam and made his way to the locker room showers. But this time, he only had one place to turn. To Isaac. And Isaac was there. He calmed him down. Showed him that the world around them, despite the chaos they'd seen on the screen, was real. But that the world was also good. That he, Isaac, was right there before him and was going to stay there beside him.

It was the death and panic that struck the chord with Scott. He'd never been one to watch the news. Or watch movies or videos with any real death in it. No history documentaries. No reenactments of genocide. He wasn't a fan of horror movies, despite the real one he was living sometimes. He'd been sheltered from a lot of that, mostly by his own choice. Even before the bite, but especially after the bite. Death troubled Scott. It's part of the reason he became a true alpha and mostly the reason why his pack is the way it is.

Isaac walked Scott slowly out into the main room, sitting him down on the chair perpendicular to Danny, who still slumbered. Isaac walked over to Stiles, who was leaning against the counter, and punched him square in the arm.

"Oww," Stiles whined, his eyes wincing as he looked at Isaac.

"A little warning next time," Isaac began. "You see that," Isaac said pointing at Scott's shook up form, "that's your fault. You know how he gets. Hell, you know him better than I do sometimes."

"What happened?"

"Panic attack. He didn't take well to the Philadelphia video you happened to leave up."

"Oh. Well I didn't know he was gonna' freak out. He hasn't had an attack like that since the Alpha Pack days." This time it was Gage's turn to punch Stiles, in the other arm. "What the hell?"

"Even I told you to tell them what was going on," she said.

"I assumed they knew since they were worried when they came in," Stiles defended. "And I did tell him 'not to panic.' What more do you want from me?"

"Right, like we knew zombies almost killed us," Isaac said.

"Zombies?" Reid piped in, his eyebrow lifting.

"That's what they're calling them," Stiles explained. "The infected I mean. Go watch the video. Philadelphia's a mess."

Reid and Tyler made their own way into the den and Stiles turned to argue with Gage. Isaac walked over to Scott and sat on the armrest, placing a hand on his upper back. Scott continued to consciously control his deep breathing, his eyes closed as Isaac rubbed his hand up and down his back.

After several moments, the door opened again. It was Sherriff Stilinski and a very terrified Melissa McCall. "They're here," the Sherriff said.