Ok, so here's what's going on. I started thinking up all these ideas around the time the nogitsune came into play. Then, even as the show kept going, I kept running with my own ideas. As such, it is very AU, but still runs in the same vein as the show, if a little less dark/intense. Main pairings include Stydia and Scira, as well as one secret one that will be revealed later on. I'm planning on carrying this into their college years and beyond too. So, if you are interested in seeing how things might have gone, I hope you enjoy! Leave a review if you feel so inclined, and Jeff Davis wrote Teen Wolf, not me. If I did, Sheriff and Melissa would've ended up together. Cheers!

Brothers of the Moon- Part 1

Scott's heart began to pound. Every sound was suddenly louder. Every light was suddenly brighter. And he knew, if he didn't leave soon, he was going to wolf out right in the middle of his history test.

Rising from his seat, he bolted for the door. Better fail a test than kill twenty of his classmates. He headed for the locker room, stumbling as he ran. The hallway was tilting in nauseating ways, and he felt light headed and dizzy. This was not normal. Not even with his new alpha powers.

No sooner had he fallen to his knees in the middle of the empty locker room, than Stiles came running in. "Scott," he cried, skidding to a stop when he saw his friend on the floor with his head in his hands. "Shit, dude, are you ok? Is it happening? Can you control it?"

"No," Scott groaned softly. "I'm not changing, this is something different. My head is killing me!" He groaned again, louder this time, and took deep breaths through his nose.

"Okay, um..." Stiles fumbled, wracking his brain to think of a way to help his friend. "Did anything happen to, y'know... trigger, uh, something?"

"No," Scott whimpered, a few tears sliding down his cheeks. "Oh, God, make it stop!"

Stiles wrapped his arms around Scott, who immediately buried his face in Stiles' shoulder, gripping fistfuls of his friend's t-shirt. It felt as if his head would explode from the pain. It was like he'd been hit with a sledgehammer. Repeatedly. He kept his eyes screwed shut, any light proving too bright for him to handle, and (though it didn't seem possible) multiplying the ache in his head tenfold. He moaned into Stiles' jacket, clenching his teeth against the unbearable torture. His friend's grip tightened around him.

"It's alright, man," Stiles soothed, being sure to keep his voice low. "I've got you, it's alright. You're gonna be okay." Stiles wondered to himself if this could simply be a migraine brought on by severe amounts of stress, although he doubted it. Nothing was ever that simple anymore when it came to him and Scott.

Elsewhere, Derek groaned in pain. The blows were coming fast and hard. And there was nothing he could do to defend himself. His captors had drugged him with wolfsbane. But not enough to kill him. Oh no, that would've been too easy. No, they gave him just enough to make his stomach churn and his vision swim. Just enough to make him weak. He was struck across the face, and a flash of white hot pain exploded behind his eyes. Derek slumped to the floor, the only thing keeping him upright was the chain around his wrists that hung from the rafters. He could feel a bruise forming around his left eye. The wolfsbane wouldn't let him heal, and he could feel every bruise, cut, and broken bone in agonizing detail. His vision was beginning to fade in and out. On instinct, he fought against the darkness closing in around him, not wanting to give his captors the satisfaction of seeing him break. But, God, there was so much pain! His body screamed in protest, and he found himself silently begging for unconsciousness. Electricity shot through his ribs and he cringed, every muscle in his body tensing up as he bit back a scream.

Through a tightly clenched jaw, Scott screamed as fire began snaking its way across his abdomen. "Whoa, whoa," Stiles panicked, struggling to hold on to his best friend's convulsing form. "Dude, what's happening? Scott, talk to me!"

The flames went out just as quickly as they had come, leaving Scott gasping for a breath. "I don't know," he panted. "Never happened before..."

Stiles quirked an eyebrow. "Really?" he scoffed.

Head still throbbing and thoroughly exhausted, Scott hid his face in the crook of Stiles' arm, letting the familiar and comforting scent of wintergreen, Old Spice, and the same laundry detergent Stiles had used for years wash over him. Stiles sighed heavily and leaned against the lockers, still cradling Scott in a firm embrace. "You're alright, Scotty," he whispered soothingly. "It's all over now."

With a quick yank of the chain, Derek was hauled up to his feet. He groaned as his head spun and every injury was stretched and pulled. Just when he'd caught his breath, his captors hoisted him up even farther, so his feet were now a good six inches off the ground. Derek couldn't help the cry of pain that ripped from his throat as all his body weight was suddenly hanging from his wrists. Voices were speaking, although he could not make out through the thick fog clouding his mind exactly what they were saying. He didn't hear the hiss of metal being heated or the footsteps of someone approaching him from behind. But he did feel the branding iron hot against his left shoulder blade as it seared his tender flesh. His eyes shot open, flashing icy blue. As the iron continued to burn him, he gripped the chains binding his wrists as his claws emerged, drawing his own blood when they bit into his palms. His torturer pressed the scalding brand harder against his back. Fangs bared, Derek tilted his head back and howled, screaming at the top of his lungs.

Scott suddenly gasped, his back arching, crying out in pain.

"Scott!"

"Stiles," Scott groaned, "let me go! Let go!"

"Alright, okay," Stiles agreed, barely having time to loosen his grip before Scott wrenched himself away from him.

On his back, Scott's claws emerged and he scraped them against the locker room floor. He panted breathlessly, sweat shining along his brow. Arching his back again, he screamed bloody murder, his eyes bright red and his fangs bared. He continued to scream, and Stiles was sure it was the worst sound he'd ever heard. But there was nothing he could do other than watch his friend suffer.

Finally, the screaming stopped. His claws and fangs retracted, and his muscles relaxed so Scott lay flat on his back. Ruby red eyes, that had been filled with so much unbearable pain, slipped closed.

"Scott?" Stiles cried, scrambling over to his friend's limp form. "Oh God, Scott! C'mon, man, don't do this to me! You gotta wake up." He gave Scott's shoulders a shake. He slapped his cheek lightly a few times. But Scott remained unresponsive. Stiles blinked furiously to keep the hot tears burning his eyes in check. It didn't take much imagination to convince himself Scott was dead. But he was breathing. He was breathing, and Stiles could feel a fluttering pulse when he placed his fingers against Scott's neck. Taking a few deep breaths, he fought the nauseating panic welling up in his chest. There was one guaranteed way to bring a werewolf back to the land of the living. "Dude, please don't hate me for this," he muttered, bringing his fist back and hitting Scott square across the jaw.

Scott's eyes snapped open.

"Oh thank God," Stiles sighed.

"Stiles, what..." Scott began to ask, but inhaled sharply, gasping in pain once again. He rolled onto his side, clutching his left arm and groaning through a tightly clenched jaw.

"What? What is it now?"

"My shoulder," Scott hissed, hauling himself to his knees using the wooden bench for leverage. "God, it hurts! I've gotta get this shirt off," he muttered, clumsily tugging at the material that scratched and stung his shoulder.

"Shit," Stiles groaned behind him. Scott wanted to ask what he was talking about, but the pain from his shoulder had choked him. Before he could even ask, Stiles moved to help him with his shirt, carefully easing it off him. He tossed it aside, and Scott noticed the scarlet blood stains on the fabric. "Oh my God," Stiles whispered breathlessly, "what happened to you?"

Scott was gripping the bench so hard, the wood nearly cracked. "What?"

"Scott, it looks like... like you were branded."

The bell rang, and Scott winced. Stiles thought his wolf senses were just on high alert, but then Scott said something under his breath. "Derek..."

Stiles frowned. Um, what? "Dude, Derek's not here."

Scott shook his head. "He's in trouble. Gotta find him..."

He tried to stand, but swayed on his feet and nearly went down again.

"Uh-uh, oh no you don't," Stiles said, moving quickly to keep his friend upright.

"Gotta... help Derek," Scott said, his words beginning to slur ever so slightly.

"Yeah, you're in no condition to help anybody right now." With one arm around his waist, Stiles looped Scott's arm around his neck. "We are gonna go see Deaton."

The lights faded and so did the voices. Derek was left alone in the dark, but he didn't mind. There was no pain here. Distantly, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he wouldn't heal if he remained unconscious. Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing though. What if he never woke up and he just slipped away?

And that's when he heard it. His sister's voice. Laura.

"I love you," she told him, and he could almost feel her tousling his hair like she always used to, "and that will never change, got it? I'll always be your big sister. And you'll always be Derek Hale, ok? No matter what Peter says."

Peter. He remembered what his uncle had told him, so long ago now. His dad, the man who'd raised him, wasn't really his dad. Not biologically anyway. He hadn't taken the news well. He ran into the woods and stayed there for days. Until Laura tracked him down, that is. "Yeah, I know who he is," she said when he'd asked her if she knew who his real father was. "It's Dad. The one who has loved you, trained you, taken care of you, and put up with your sorry ass as long as you can remember. You're a Hale. Always remember that. And you're strong enough to handle anything life throws your way."

There was a stab of pain in his right arm and a flash of bright light that made Scott cringe. Voices, familiar and distant, filled his ears, only allowing him to catch glimpses of conversation. "How long?" he heard his mother ask in hushed, fierce tones. "Melissa..."

"How long, Rafael?"

Scott winced at the sound of her voice, getting louder by the minute.

"It was over ten years ago!" his father shouted. Scott clenched his hands into fists, feeling the need to defend his mother, even though he couldn't see her.

"So that was the only time it happened?" his mom snapped.

There was a moment of silence before his dad said, "No."

The crack of his mom's hand against his dad's cheek made Scott wince. "Get out!"

His mother's voice faded and suddenly he heard Derek telling him about the hunters. "They've been after us for centuries," he said, and Scott could feel the older wolf's hand on his shoulder. "But together, as a pack, we're stronger. You and me, Scott? We're brothers now."

And then, he heard Stiles.

"He's not letting himself heal because Derek's dead."

Scott was beginning to feel dizzy, unable to tell which way was up. He felt someone grip his hand, though he couldn't see who. But he held on to it for dear life as the spinning continued, and Derek's voice rang in his ears. "You and me, Scott? We're brothers now. Scott? Scott!"

Derek's voice shifted to Stiles' as the nauseating spinning ceased, and a bright light assaulted him again, chasing away the heavy darkness. "Scott!" he heard Stiles call frantically. Blinking against the harsh lighting of Deaton's exam room, Scott opened his eyes to find his best friend and Kira sitting on either side of him, each holding on tightly to one of his hands. "Thank God," Stiles sighed. Scott tried to move, but found himself unable to.

"You're okay," Kira said, running her free hand through his hair and making sure to keep her voice low. "You're in Deaton's office. We had to restrain you. You started changing into a wolf off and on when we got here, and we were afraid you were going to hurt yourself."

Deaton himself appeared then, unlocking the restraints around his wrists, waist, and ankles. He gave Scott a small smile. "You gave us quite a scare, Scott."

"Sorry," Scott muttered, his voice hoarse. Kira moved away, returning with a glass of water after Stiles had helped Scott sit upright. "Thanks," Scott said gratefully, taking a few sips, and letting the cool liquid slide down his dry throat.

Kira nodded, hopping up onto the exam table to sit beside him. She looped her arm through his and took his hand once again. Leaning in, she placed a sweet kiss to his cheek.

Scott gave her a smile, squeezing her hand. She smiled back, rubbing soothing circles over the back of his hand with her thumb.

Stiles leaned against the exam table and crossed his arms over his chest, looking pointedly at Deaton. "Alright, so you want to tell us what the hell that was?"

"Well, Scott," Deaton asked, "how do you feel?"

Stiles' jaw dropped. "What do you mean, how does he feel? Just look at him! He obviously feels like shit!"

Deaton just looked at Scott, waiting for an answer.

"I feel like I was hit by a truck. What's wrong with me?"

"Physically, nothing..." Deaton began to say, but was interrupted by Stiles.

"Nothing? Are you kidding me?" Stiles cried. "Did you see that thing on his back?"

Scott flinched. Although less than before, his head was still throbbing. "Stiles, volume."

"Sorry."

"What I meant was, there is no physical reason for Scott to have sustained these injuries. By all rights, he should be just fine. I've seen these things happen before, but it's incredibly rare. Sometimes, two wolves can share a bond stronger than pack. They are connected by something deeper..."

"Derek," Stiles gasped, eyes wide as he pointed at Scott. "Before you passed out, you said Derek was in trouble?"

"Yeah," Scott nodded, he looked down at his fingers intwined with Kira's for a minute, then back up to Deaton. "I can't explain how I know, but he needs help. I just... I can feel it. Is that even possible?"

Before Deaton could answer, Peter burst through the door to the exam room, followed closely by Issaac, Liam, and Lydia.

Isaac's frantic eyes landed on Scott, and his shoulders slumped in relief. "Thank God," he sighed. Liam didn't need to say anything. The visible look of relief and the sound of his heart returning to a normal, not-so-panicked pace spoke volumes. Lydia, usually so cool and collected, ran over and threw her arms around him. Scott felt a few of her tears fall on his bare shoulder.

"Are you okay?" she choked.

"I'm sorry," Scott said, pressing one hand to her back. "I'm alright now."

"As much as I hate breaking up this little love-fest," Peter snapped. "Have any of you seen Derek?"

"No," Scott shook his head, "but I think he's in trouble. When was the last time you saw him?"

"Last night. Why do you think he's in trouble?"

"Long story," Scott said wearily, attempting to jump down from the table, but his knees nearly buckled as soon as his feet touched the floor. Luckily, Stiles was quick enough to reach out an arm to steady him. "Thanks."

"Dude, are you sure you're up for this?" Stiles asked, looking his friend in the eye.

Scott took a deep breath, having learned long ago he could not hide things from Stiles. "No," he said softly, "but I have to be."

With a deep breath, Derek opened his eyes. He was in a hospital. Beacon Hills hospital to be exact. With his legs tucked up underneath him, Derek stared at the door to his uncle's room. He'd lost track of how long he'd been sitting there, memories of the past few days racing through his mind. Coming home from school to find his house burned to the ground, heat still rolling off the debris, and the smell of smoke and burned flesh making him gag. His whole family was gone. His parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, and cousins. All gone. The only people he had left in the entire world were Laura and Peter, and Peter was so damaged that he may never fully recover. He turned his head when he heard his sister talking to someone down the hall. A nurse with dark curly hair stood opposite his clearly agitated sister. The nurse was familiar. What was her name? Melissa. The one who had found him only a few hours after the fire, sobbing his heart out before the door of the morgue. She had sat down beside him, not saying a word, which Derek had been grateful for. She seemed to know he didn't feel like talking, and instead just wrapped her arms around him and held him while he cried.

He focused his hearing on the two women, wanting to know what had gotten his sister so angry. "You really want to do something for us?" Laura spat. "You really want to help, Nurse McCall? Why don't you tell your husband to be a man and actually do something for his son for once in his life?"

Melissa's hands came to rest on her hips. "What are you talking about? How do you know my husband?"

Laura scoffed. "Why don't you ask him that?"

One minute, Stiles was driving toward the abandoned warehouse district, and the next, Lydia had gone totally silent. Her hand grew cold in his. "Lydia?" he asked, giving his girlfriend a quick glance. She was pale, and her eyes had glazed over. "Shit."

He swerved and pulled over to the side of the road, trying to get Lydia's attention. "Lyds?" he called, taking both cold hands in his. "Lydia, talk to me sweetheart."

"Stiles, what's happening?" Kira asked from the backseat.

"I think she-"

Whatever he was about to say was cut off by Lydia's ear-shattering, blood-curdling scream. Stiles tried to remain calm as her hands instinctively gripped his tighter. That all went out the window though, when a new sound was added to the mix. Scott had doubled over, and was groaning so loudly, he was nearly screaming too. Kira had her arms wrapped around him as best she could and shared a desperate look with Stiles. Stiles took a deep breath and willed his heart to slow. A panic attack was not what he needed right now.

As soon as it started, it stopped. It was as though Lydia ran out of air, and she gasped, turning to look at Stiles with wide, terrified eyes. "You're okay," he whispered, stroking her hair back from her face, "You're okay."

Though Scott had stopped screaming, he was still doubled over and panting, trying to breathe through the ghost of Derek's pain. Kira was running her fingers through his thick dark hair when suddenly his head shot up, his eyes glowing bright red. They turned to look at their alpha, and Stiles, with raised eyebrows, asked, "Scott? Everything okay, buddy?"

"I know where Derek is," he said, throwing the door to the jeep open and taking off in a run the minute his feet touched the ground. The others followed quickly, with Stiles calling the other half of the search party to let them know where they were and that they'd found him.

It didn't take long for Peter's car to pull up outside of an abandoned bottling plant. Liam and Isaac jumped out nearly before the car had completely stopped.

"He's in the basement," Scott said, his words slurring ever so slightly, and leaning against Stiles more with every passing minute. "We gotta be careful. I don't… I don't know how many are in there…"

"Scott, why don't you let us handle it?" Isaac spoke up, not at all liking the way his alpha appeared and not having much confidence in his fighting abilities this time around.

But Scott shook his head. "Gotta help. I'll be fine."

Peter barely kept from rolling his eyes. "Always the martyr," he sighed. "Alright, since Scott can barely stand, Stiles, you and Lydia stay with him. Find Derek and get him back to Deaton's. The rest of us will take care of anything that gets in your way. Understood?"

Everyone in the pack looked to Scott, waiting for the final word from their alpha. Scott nodded his consent. "Let's do it."

To Scott, it was almost all a blur. Before they reached Derek, Peter, Isaac, and Kira cut down three wolves who were standing guard. When they finally got to the basement, they saw Derek's limp body hanging from the rafters. A man with his back to them clutched a branding iron in his hand, while two of his betas flanked him. When the man turned, Peter froze. "Tristan," he growled.

"Peter Hale," the alpha grinned. "You are… Not who I was expecting."

"Sorry to disappoint," he said, flicking his claws out, "but not too sorry. I've been waiting a long time for this."

"Peter, who is…"

"He was obsessed with my sister," he sneered, never taking his eyes off Tristan as they both slowly advanced on and circled each other. "Never could quite understand the meaning of no."

"I love Talia!" Tristan roared. "And if not for Rafael McCall and his bastard, she'd still be alive!"

"It wouldn't have changed anything. She never would have loved you," Peter grinned as he watched the man lose control. Peter always considered him to be just on the brink of insanity, and it was a personal goal to push him over the edge.

"Stop!" Scott suddenly cried, the fog clouding his mind finally lifting enough to process what Tristan had said. "How do you know my dad?"

Tristan frowned.

"Scott, stay out of this!" Peter warned. "Stiles, get him out of here."

"No!" Scott cried, pushing away from his best friend and moving toward the other alpha with determined steps. "How do you know Rafael McCall?"

Narrowing his eyes, Tristan sized up Scott, a sickening smile stretching across his face. "Oh, of course. Not man enough to come himself so he sends you to fetch Derek home?"

"What?"

"Didn't you know?" he sneered. "Something far stronger than pack binds you to your beta, McCall."

"That's enough," Peter growled, grabbing Tristan by the back of the neck and throwing him against the far wall. Tristan's two betas lunged for Peter, but Isaac and Liam leapt between them before they could manage to get close. Chaos erupted, and Stiles grabbed Scott, pulling him away from the worst of the fighting. Lydia and Kira raced to Derek, unlocking him and lowering him to the ground as gently as they could.

"He's not breathing," Lydia said, checking for a heart beat, but finding none. She looked to Kira. "You've got to help him."

"Me?"

"Yes!" Lydia insisted, trying to explain quickly over the roar of the supernatural beings around them. "Use your powers to shock him. Your hands will work like a defibrillator!"

Kira nodded, positioning herself over Derek. Closing her eyes, an orange glow began to radiate around her. Screwing her eyes shut tighter, it concentrated to her hands, which she pushed against Derek's unresponsive body. He jerked and gasped, eyes flashing blue for a brief moment before fading back to their hazel green.

"Wh-what… Lydia?" he groaned as she checked him over.

"You did it!" she laughed, feeling a weak but steady beating under her fingers. Kira grinned back, the last bit of orange fading from her eyes.

Derek frowned. "Did what?"

"Kira just saved your life."

The former alpha's eyes landed on the kitsune. She gave him a shy smile. "Thanks," he nodded.

"Yeah, congratulations," Stiles said, his voice verging on frantic. "But can we get back to Deaton's? Scott's not lookin' so hot, and neither are you, Sour Wolf, and who knows how long the three stooges over there will be occupied."

Nodding, Kira reached for Scott who all but fell into her arms. Stiles helped Derek up and somehow, he blamed it on adrenaline, the three of them got both werewolves to the jeep. Buckling Derek into the passenger seat and getting Scott situated in the back between the girls, Stiles tore out of the warehouse district like a bat out of hell.

Not five minutes into the drive, Lydia shrieked, "Stiles!"

His heart sky rocketed into his throat. Slamming on the brakes and swerving to the side of the road again, Stiles whipped around in his seat. "What? What is it?" She didn't bother to answer though. He could see for himself. Scott was completely unconscious, his head against Kira's shoulder as she tried in vain to bring him back around. "Fuck!"

"What?" Derek asked, suddenly breathless as he tried to get his sluggish upper body to turn around so he could see Scott. "Scott… Scott you… you ok?"

Stiles turned back to him, trying to get him to calm down. "He's fine, man. We just need to get him to Deaton, alright? Derek?" But Derek's eyes had glazed over, and he'd gone at least two shades paler. Stiles grabbed his face between both hands and brought it toward his own. "Derek, you with me?"

Derek's gaze finally settled on Stiles. "St- Stiles…"

And then he was out cold too.

Stiles was sure he'd never driven so fast in his entire life.

When Scott opened his eyes, he was in a huge white room with lights that were way too bright. Squinting, he got to his feet and looked around. Where the hell am I?

"Scott?"

His head snapped to the left to see Derek sitting up, pressing the palm of his hand to his head. Scott rushed over to him, dropping to his knees.

"Derek! Are you ok?"

"Yeah," the older wolf slowly nodded, checking for bruises or breaks but finding none. "Considering everything that's happened, yeah, I think so."

"Any idea where we are?" Scott asked.

Derek smirked. "I was gonna ask you that."

Grabbing his forearm, allowing Derek to do the same, Scott helped him up. They both looked around, but the room stretched each way just about as far as they could see.

White tile. White walls. White ceiling. Bright white lights. "I don't know, it's…"

"It's what?" Derek asked as a look of realization came over Scott.

"No way…"

"What?"

"This is where Lydia and I came when we went into Stiles' head to get him away from the nogitsune."

Derek frowned. "We're in Stiles' head?"

"No," Scott sighed. "I think we're in each others."

"Amazing."

"Huh. Y'know, that's not the word I would've gone with," Stiles said, one eyebrow raised as Deaton looked over Derek and Scott, both wolves laid out on parallel exam tables.

"Considering this is the second time I've seen my best friend laid out unconscious on this table today, I was thinking more along the lines of 'horrendous' or 'nightmare- inducing'…"

Deaton said nothing and continued his examination, lifting Scott's eyelids and checking Derek's pulse.

"Unbelievable," Stiles muttered.

Kira stood by, biting her nails nearly down to the quick. Lydia kept her eyes on Scott and Derek, conducting her own exam in her brilliant brain. Peter, Liam, and Isaac were in the waiting room. Stiles figured he may as well be there too at this point. All they were doing was waiting for Deaton to say something.

"Interesting," Deaton mused as he took a step back, gazing at both wolves. Stiles felt his hands clench into fists by his sides. If this guy didn't say something helpful soon… "As I said before, this is very rare. They have exactly the same vital signs. Their hearts are beating in sync with one another. It's very rare. Very rare indeed."

"Wait," Stiles shook his head, "what's rare? What are you getting at, Doc?"

"That's what Tristan meant." Lydia's green eyes grew wide as she came to the same realization Deaton had. In awe, she met Stiles' eyes and whispered, "They're brothers."

"So," Derek sighed. "How do we get out of here?"

"I don't know."

Derek scowled at Scott. "What do you mean you don't know? I thought you said you and Lydia had been here before?"

"Yeah, but last time I had my claws in Lydia and Stiles' neck, so to get out, all I had to do was open my eyes and take them out," Scott explained. "This is different. I have no idea how or why we ended up here!"

But Derek wasn't listening to Scott anymore. "Shut up."

"Why, what do-"

"Shut up," he said, holding his hand up in front of Scott and stepping past him, eyes fixed on something in the distance. He took another step, and Scott turned around to see what had caught his attention. There was a white door along the wall. Aside from the doorknob, you never would have noticed it was there. "Listen," Derek said, as he and Scott slowly walked toward it, "there's someone behind it."

But Scott couldn't hear anything.

Derek stepped closer to the door, his eyes going wide. "Laura?" Without another word, he was throwing the door open and rushing inside.

"Derek, no!" Scott called, but the older wolf had already disappeared into the black void beyond the door. "Dammit," he hissed as he ran in after him.

Scott didn't know what he was expecting to find, but the Hale house, standing perfect and pristine as though there never was a fire, wasn't it. He saw Derek watching two women, who both bore a striking resemblance to Derek, talking in a bedroom. "Dude, is that…?"

"My mom and sister," Derek nodded, never taking his eyes off them. "They can't hear or see us though."

Scott didn't say anything to that, just stood beside Derek and watched.

"I cannot believe he had the nerve to show up here after all these years!" Laura practically shouted.

"Hush, Laura," Talia scolded, busying herself by folding laundry while her hot-tempered teenage daughter paced. "I always thought he might one day. I'm just glad Derek wasn't here when he did."

"What did he even want? He can't just all of a sudden decide he wants to be a father! Derek and I have a dad. We have a family! He can't just come here and ruin it!"

Talia sighed, crossing the room to stroke her daughter's cheek. "He won't. He wanted to see him, but I told him no. He has his own family to worry about now. I doubt he'll be back."

Laura nodded. "Does Derek know?"

"No. And you are not to tell him. I will when he's ready, just like I did you. And he'll understand, just like you did about your parents. Remember, it doesn't matter where we came from, what or who we are…"

"We're a family," Laura and Derek finished together, "and a pack."

"That's right," Talia smiled, kissing Laura's forehead.

To say Scott was confused was an understatement. "Laura's not your sister?"

Derek's eyes flashed as he tore his gaze away from his family to level a glare at Scott. "She is my sister."

"Right, right, I know," Scott backtracked, "but, I meant, like… not by blood?"

"By blood, she's my cousin. My mom's sister and brother-in-law were killed by hunters. My mom adopted Laura. She had me, and then married my dad."

"Your step-dad?" Scott frowned, trying to tie all the pieces together.

"Technically. But he's the only father I ever knew. I never met my birth father. Mom never told me his name. Neither did Laura. But it didn't matter. We were a family. We were pack."

"Wow. I never-" but a sudden sound interrupted Scott's train of thought. "Mom?"

Derek frowned, following Scott to the closet in his sister's room. "Scott, what is it?"

"It's my mom," he said, sliding the door open to the same black abyss as before. He looked at Derek in uncertainty.

"Go. I'll be right behind you."

Scott nodded, stepping into the void, only for his feet to meet solid ground. He was in their house. His mom sat at the kitchen table with Sheriff Stilinski, a mug of coffee in front of each of them. "I just can't believe it," his mom said, shaking her head as she gripped the warm mug. "I mean, I knew… I knew he'd cheated on me, but… a child? He had a child?"

"He never said anything?" the Sheriff asked.

"No. I'm not even sure when he found out about him," Melissa shrugged. She finally looked up at Mike. "Any luck finding them?"

"No. They're gone."

"Those poor kids. I had no idea what the girl was talking about, but Rafael confirmed everything." A bitter laugh fell from her lips. "I sure know how to pick 'em, don't I?"

"Hey," Mike said, reaching across the table to take her hand in his. "This is not your fault."

"I know. I just… I wish there was something I could do. If you hear anything, will you let me know? I want them to know they have somewhere to go. That they aren't alone."

"I will," he nodded. "Of course I will."

Scott's head was spinning. "My dad had another kid? Who was it? Why would my mom not tell me I had a brother?"

Derek felt like he was going to be sick. "Oh God."

"What?" Scott frowned, following Derek onto the front porch. Or what he thought would be the front porch. The minute they stepped through the door, they were back in the white room. And this time, there was no door along the wall.

Derek stood a few feet from him, running a hand over his face. "This can't be happening."

"Derek, what's going on?"

"There was a point before you guys came that I passed out. And I dreamed about being in the hospital after the fire, but it wasn't a dream. It was a memory of Laura yelling at a nurse. She wanted to help, but Laura kept saying something about her husband doing something for his son. I didn't know what it meant, but now…"

"The nurse was my mom," Scott finished.

Derek nodded.

"Which means…"

"Yeah," Derek said, shaking his head. "We're brothers, Scott."

Everything seemed to fall into place all at once in Scott's head. The connection he and Derek had that stretched beyond pack… The visions and dreams about their families... What Tristan had said at the warehouse about his dad… "We're brothers."

No sooner had he uttered the strange words, than Derek dropped to his knees with a groan. "Derek!" Scott shouted, rushing over and kneeling before him. "What's wrong?"

"Don't know," he choked. Everything hurt. His ribs, his head, his arms…

"Shit," Scott muttered. Derek followed the younger wolf's gaze down to his wrists. They were raw and bleeding, just like they had been before. "Derek?"

God, he was getting dizzy now. He wrapped an arm around his chest and tried to breathe through the pain. "I think," he groaned, bracing himself with one hand pressed against the cool tile floor, "I think we might be waking up."

Scott's vision began to fade in and out. "Yeah, I think you're right." He suddenly pitched to the right, catching himself before falling all the way to the floor.

"Scott?" Derek's panicked voice called out.

"I'm okay," Scott reassured him. Derek groaned in response, lowering himself to the floor. Scott did the same. He felt lightheaded. Kind of like he was floating. His vision went black. "Derek?"

"Here. I'm here." His reply was weak, and muffled, but Scott heard it. His heart rate picked up speed as a light in the distance became brighter and closer. He felt Derek's hand clasp his wrist. "It's okay," he whispered. "You're gonna be okay, Scott."

Stiles watched in amazement as Derek reached over and grabbed Scott's wrist. "Uh, is that normal?"

"They're waking up," Lydia said, and then the room was a flurry of activity. "Scott's heart rate is back up," Deaton announced. "Oxygen levels are normal."

"Thank God," Stiles sighed in relief.

Kira kissed her boyfriend's hand. "Come on, Scott. Come back to us."

"What about Derek?" Lydia interrupted, glancing at the former alpha. "You said they were connected, so will he wake up too?"

"I'm afraid there's no change."

Stiles looked between the two werewolves, then at Derek's hand still wrapped around Scott's wrist. The veins in Derek's arm were bulging and black. "He's taking his pain. Well, his own pain. He's giving Scott enough strength to wake up."

"Exactly," Deaton nodded.

Before anyone else could say anything, Scott gasped, his eyes flying open. "You're okay," Kira soothed, stroking his face and hair, trying to calm him. "Just breathe."

It was as though he didn't even hear her. "Derek?" Scott said, his voice verging on frantic, "Derek!"

"Right beside you," Kira reassured him, her voice still soft and gentle.

Scott sat up quickly, making Stiles nervous. "Whoa, buddy," he said, putting his hands on Scott's shoulders, "take it easy."

"No, I feel fine now, it's…" Scott trailed off when he saw Derek's hand on his wrist. "What's going on?"

"He's letting you heal," Stiles explained.

"No," Scott shook his head. "No, he's gotta wake up. He needs to heal too, he's in pain."

"Want me to punch him?" Stiles offered.

Lydia glared.

"What? It's worked before," he huffed. "I don't see anyone else coming up with any bright ideas."

"Scott," Lydia said urgently, "how do wolves signal their location to the rest of the pack?"

"Derek's not in my pack. He's never wanted me to be his alpha."

"That may be so, but the two of you have been allies in the past. And if you're truly brothers," Deaton explained, "the blood tie to an alpha will be too strong for Derek to ignore."

"It's worth a try," Kira encouraged.

Scott nodded. He had to do something. Derek was in too much pain, and every second Scott could feel him slipping further away.

Loosening Derek's hold on his wrist, he instead gripped his hand with his own. Taking a deep breath, Scott howled, the sound rattling the bottles on the shelves and causing his other pack members to cover their ears as it continued.

When it was over, they waited, staring at Derek's still form.

Nothing happened.

Through the pain and the thick fog of darkness, Derek heard him. The howl ripped through his chest and echoed through his body, urging him to answer. "Scott…"

Stiles put a hand on Scott's shoulder. "I'm sorry, man."

"No," Scott said, shaking his head and gripping Derek's hand so hard, Lydia was afraid it might break. "It has to work! It has to!"

"Scott…" Lydia tried, but Scott interrupted her.

"He's my brother," Scott choked, a sob threatening to escape. "I can't… Not now…"

"Try again."

Scott looked up at Stiles. "What?"

"Try again," he said gently. "He's in rough shape, Scott. He may need time to come around."

Scott nodded, taking a deep breath and howling one more time. His eyes flashed red and the whole room shook. Isaac and Liam came barreling into the room, Peter following at a slower pace. Kira, Lydia, Deaton, and Stiles had their hands over their ears as the howl continued. Beakers and bottles fell off the shelves, shattering to a million pieces on the floor. Dogs in their kennels started barking and howling. But everyone was focused on the blue eyes that had flashed open, the claws that scraped along the metal table, and the bared fangs as an answering howl echoed from his chest.

Derek looked around frantically, his heart rate skyrocketing as he tried to make sense of his surroundings and catch his breath. Scott gripped his shoulders, moving so he was in his line of sight. "Derek, you're ok," he called, trying to bring his attention back around to him. "Look at me."

Derek did, his eyes fading back to a bright hazel. "Scott?"

"Thank God," Scott sighed.

Despite his aching ribs and arms, Derek sat up and wrapped his arms around Scott, pulling him close. "You're alright."

"I'm alright," Scott grinned, returning the embrace.

Melissa arrived mere seconds later, she and the Sheriff going straight back to the exam room. "Scott, are you…"

Her words of worry caught in her throat when she saw how Scott and Derek were holding on to each other, almost desperately. She took a step closer as they pulled apart and she hugged her son close. "Thank God you're alright. Both of you."

"We're good now, Mom."

She looked to Derek, who was looking back at her with an expression she'd never seen on the werewolf's face before. "You know, don't you?"

Derek nodded. "I know."
Scott squeezed her hand and she took a hesitant step closer, not sure where the boundaries were yet. She stood in between Scott and Derek, figuring that was safe. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you guys. But I didn't want to make things harder on you. And I didn't want to dishonor your mother's memory by telling you something she didn't want you to know."

"I understand. It's not your fault."

She seemed to relax a bit at that. She glanced at Mike briefly before turning to Derek again. "We tried to find you and Laura after the fire. I wanted you to know that you had somewhere to go. A home. You still do, if you want it."

He took her by surprise when he smiled and said, "I do. Thank you."

It was her turn to catch him off guard when she hugged him close, just like she'd done with Scott, more than happy to finally be able to offer him some of the comfort she'd wanted to all those years ago.

Derek smiled to himself. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to be in a real pack. To have a real family.

Now he had both.