A/N: This chapter used to be a prologue, but I decided it wasn't how I wanted to begin the story and replaced it with the proper first chapter instead.

General content warning: This story is dark with lots of sex, violence, and potentially disturbing themes.

My Boyfriend the Zombie

Chapter 1: Grave Concerns

"It's not fair that you're gone. That even in a town like Beacon Hills death is final. It shouldn't be. There should be a way to bring you back."

Nolan cleared his throat and reached for the blue bottle propped between his legs on the grass. He unscrewed the cool metal cap and took a trembling draught of the fruity beverage.

"Natalie finally started buying me alcohol after I told her you died." Nolan smacked his lips and sniffled. The cold night air was making his nose run. He ignored the ache in the pit of his stomach. "I lied though. I told her you were my boyfriend."

Gabe didn't say anything, just lay there in his grave being dead. Since there was no indication he was rolling over, Nolan took it as a go-ahead to continue.

"I didn't, like, know..." Nolan wedged the bottle back between his legs and picked at an overgrown blade of grass. "I didn't know I had those feelings for you, but my therapist helped put it in perspective."

Nolan was bored staring at Gabe's headstone, so he took out his phone and pulled up a picture of him. It was his favorite. Gabe was shirtless and sweaty, smirking at Nolan with his hands on his hips. It was from the beginning of the year following a morning run they had gone on one Saturday right before all the supernatural crap got bad.

"I thought I liked girls while we were friends." Nolan shrugged and unscrewed the cap on his drink. "But then again I thought I liked boys before that." He took a sip and swished it around his mouth before swallowing. "Maybe I'll like girls again. Or maybe I'm bi. My dad says bisexuals just want attention, but he says that about a lot of people...about me." Nolan took one more swallow before screwing the cap back on. "So I guess I'm bi."

"It's Blue Beast." Nolan held the bottle out and shook it at Gabe's headstone. "Seagram's, you know? It's fruity but..." Nolan giggled and laid the bottle on the grass. "I might be gay so I guess it works."

"I dunno what bisexuals drink, but if I coulda gotten Natalie to buy us somethin' while you were alive, we probably woulda had beers, huh?" Nolan tilted his head and imagined himself and Gabe sitting on his couch sharing a case and flicking the bottle caps at each other. Maybe they would have gotten drunk and made out. Maybe…maybe more.

"Would you have let me blow you?" Nolan frowned and dug the toe of his shoe into the dirt. "Or would you have kicked my ass for asking?" He touched his face just below his eye. The bruise Gabe had left there had almost faded. The ones he had left on the inside hadn't, but that's what the Blue Beast was for.

"Hey, speaking of someone kickin' my ass, did I tell ya I tole Liam and his friends I wasn't the one who shot up McCall's house?" Nolan patted the barren mound of damp earth beside him. "I wasn't tryin' to getcha in trouble or anything, but since you're dead..."

Nolan ran a hand through his hair without thinking, caking it with dirt. Oh well. He pushed his bangs into his eyes and stared at the giant flecks of dirt as he idly rolled his fingers over them, matting the locks together.

"But he didn't – kick my ass. He's actually been like the only person who's been kinda nice to me lately. Coach made us co-captains of the lacrosse team. It's weird after everything but…I kinda like playin' with Liam."

Nolan dissolved into a fit of laughter and grabbed his bottle. "That was a joke 'cause I kinda wanna play with Liam. He's hot."

Nolan sniffled some more as he took another swing of his drink. Stupid cold air. "I miss you."

Theo turned a corner and stepped out of the shadows. He blinked up at the glaring fluorescent lights that lined the underside of the tattered store awning. The sidewalk leading to the door was cracked and uneven, and the building's weathered plaster facade was chipped and crumbling around the edges. Was it imprudent to buy tools from a hardware store in disrepair?

Theo smirked as he tugged the door open and the misshapen bell above it clanked more than chimed. He liked this store. It wasn't trying too hard. And maybe it would be cheap. Theo wasn't exactly flush with cash.

"Hi, welcome to Palace Hardware." The young clerk was perched on a stool behind a battered counter, a cell phone in his hand. "Help ya find somethin'?"

"I need a sledgehammer."

The clerk furrowed his brow and looked Theo over before waving his arm toward the back of the store, the cell phone dangling precariously. "Aisle nineteen. They might be a little dusty. We don't sell too many."

Theo nodded in acknowledgment and headed in the direction indicated, stepping around an elderly woman in the plumbing aisle who smelled like coffee, biscuits, and old lady perfume.

The store only had one kind of sledgehammer and only four units of it. Theo picked one up by the head and shook it. The handle didn't rattle. Good enough. He grabbed a crowbar from a little further up the aisle – an impulse buy, but one that might prove useful – and took his items to the front to checkout.

The old lady was leaning against the counter digging around in her giant, beat-up purse.

"That'll be $2.97," said the clerk as he dropped her single purchase, a faucet aerator, into a small plastic bag.

The woman hummed and triumphantly pulled out her checkbook.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, we don't take checks," he said as she unzipped it.

"Aww hickorysticks!" She slumped against the counter under the weight of the news. "Could you make an exception? I don't have that much cash."

"We take debit and credit."

"I never use those." She tsked and shook her head. "The government uses them to spy on you and fiddle you out of your benefits."

"Well, let me call my manager and see what he says."

Theo groaned and leaned heavily on his sledgehammer.

Why was he waiting? He could leave. The store obviously didn't have security cameras.

In fact...he could do whatever he wanted.

Theo's fingers twitched as he eyed the prominent artery in the woman's sunken neck. Blood pulsed beneath the surface, screaming to be unleashed. Stupid old bitch. Theo was busy. Who was she to get in his way?

He curled his hand tighter around the handle of the sledgehammer as his claws extended and tickled the heel of his hand. They felt dry. It had been almost a week since he had gotten blood on them that night at the hospital when he and Liam had fought the hunters.

Liam. Liam wouldn't approve of Theo wetting his claws in old lady blood.

The woman turned and smiled at him. He smiled back.

Liam wouldn't have to know.

He glanced at the clerk. His back was turned, the spiraled cord of a landline wound around his arm as he yammered about store policy. Theo could kill him before he could hang up and call 911. Fuck it, let him call 911. Theo would be long gone before they arrived.

Theo's heart pounded and he licked his lips.

Yes.

YES!

Tear her throat out. Smash her head open with the sledgehammer. Impale the clerk on the crowbar.

Tear her throat out.

"I'm sorry to hold up the line."

Theo nodded pleasantly.

Smash her head open.

"Ma'am, my manager says we can't take your check."

Impale the clerk.

"Did you tell him I have ID?"

Tear.

"It wouldn't make a difference."

Smash.

"I'll have to put it back then."

Impale.

"Do you maybe have enough change to get to $2.97?"

Tear. Smash. Impale.

"Let me check."

TearSmashImpale.

Theo took a deep breath and shut his eyes. "That won't be necessary."

"What do you mean?"

He opened his eyes. They were both looking at him blankly. Lambs for the slaughter.

He let go of the sledgehammer, careful to keep his hand turned and his claws hidden.

"You won't need to worry about that."

He grinned so wide his lips twitched and strained. The clerk said something, but all Theo could hear was their blood whooshing in his ears.

TearSmashIm–

He sighed and reached into his back pocket. "It's on me." He retracted his claws and pulled out his wallet.

The old lady's face lit up. "Oh, I hate to impose on your kindness."

Theo swallowed and pushed aside the image of blood gushing down the side of her face. His pulse had slowed by the time he set the sledgehammer and crowbar on the counter. "Where would any of us be without kindness?"

"That's so true!" She patted his back as he passed the clerk his debit card. "If only there were more young men like you in the world."

"Oh, I doubt the world could handle that," Theo said with a wink.

The transaction went through. He wasn't sure it would. He was bound to be overdrawn by now.

The old woman shuffled out of the store in front of Theo. "Do you need a ride somewhere?" she asked, pointing at a dented silver car with one hubcap missing. It was the only vehicle in the lot.

"I'm parked around back," Theo answered.

"Okay then. Good night and thanks again." She waved, but before she could take a complete step, she stumbled on the uneven pavement.

Theo lunged forward and latched onto her arm as she fell, holding her upright until she had regained her footing.

"Fuck my titties, that was close!" She clutched her chest over her thundering heart.

"Indeed it was." Theo guided her off the sidewalk and onto the relatively more even parking lot.

"You're my savior tonight."

"Well," Theo smiled with as much sincerity as he could muster. "I wouldn't want to see you get hurt."

Rural Maine

"I'm dumpin' Lanie if she don't put out this weekend." Dale ignored the beep from his phone indicating the battery was low. "No, I didn't call ya just to tell ya that, asshat. I called ya to talk about the party on Saturday."

He flicked on his high beams but didn't slow down as he entered a deer crossing zone. "It's her last chance. Bitch, better suck my cock."

Dale clenched the steering wheel as Todd tried to pick a fight with him by challenging his attitude.

"Look, man, I hear ya. Hashtag me too and all that. And don't worry, I'm not gonna pressure her. I'm gonna say, 'Lanie, shut up and put that big, fat mouth of yours to good use or we're done.' But I'll be real respectful-like about it."

The phone beeped again. Ugh, pieca trash.

"Ayuh!" Dale slapped the wheel. "'Course I've had a blowjob before. I've had tons of 'em!"

Dale had found his older brother's Fleshlight a couple weekends ago while he was out of town on a hunting trip. He had nutted in it five times in sixteen hours before he had to let it dry out so Ryan wouldn't know when he got home. It had the mouth opening, so that counted as a blowjob. Dale would have fucked pussy and ass too if Ryan wasn't too cheap to buy more inserts.

Another warning beep.

"Geezus fuck, imma have to letcha go, bro. My phone's a needy sonofa."

There was no response.

"Todd?"

The screen had gone black.

"Thirteen hours of battery life my ass." Dale waited until he had rounded a curve in the road before reaching into the darkened passenger seat and groping around for his charger. All he felt were the remnants of his fast food dinner – fry carton, burger wrapper, napkins, crumpled paper bag. Shit, he had seen it that morning on his way to school. Maybe it fell on the floor.

He eased off the accelerator and looked around. The road was deserted and it's not like he wasn't a good driver, so he unhooked his seatbelt and leaned over until his hand brushed the floormat.

Eww, when was the last time Mom cleaned my car? What even is this, a raisin? Oh wait, here it–

A heavy, wet thunk exploded across the car and sent Dale's shoulder careening into the dashboard as he tumbled sideways out of his seat.

Pain ripped through the side of his body and his stomach lurched. He could feel something beneath him kicking and thrashing against the underside of the still moving car.

He had to stop. He had to steer. He had to–

He climbed back into his seat but was hurled against the roof and the steering wheel as the car slammed into something with a screeching crunch.

Sideways.

The whole car was leaning sideways and at a downward angle.

Dale trembled and gasped for breath. Terror seized him as his vision clouded over and the engine let out a rumbling hiss.

Was he injured?! Was he bleeding?!

He couldn't–He couldn't–

A cold, detached feeling washed over him and he became too dizzy to focus on the pain and fear. He was only distantly aware of the thing under the car as it made a few more feeble kicks and went still.

Theo pulled up to Beacon Hills Cemetery, turned off his truck, and cracked the door. He listened. It was a precaution, and one he had expected would prove unnecessary, but instead he caught the sound of a mumbled voice and a human heartbeat.

He gripped his keys, ready to turn the ignition and drive away until he recognized the voice.

He narrowed his eyes. What was he doing here?

Theo grunted and yanked the keys from the ignition as he hopped out of the truck. Getting rid of Nolan was a trifling inconvenience and not worth a second trip, so he grabbed his new sledgehammer and crowbar from the bed of the truck, slung his old shovel and tarp over his shoulder, and stormed into the cemetery like he owned the place.

As he understood it the real owner was a werewolf about his age who had been in Scott's pack until he moved to France. Maybe Theo would make the guy an offer if his fortunes ever turned around. He had a knack for disposing of bodies. He'd might as well turn it into gainful employment.

He cut across rows of graves, clanking the headstones with the end of his crowbar to make himself more menacing. He had no intention of harming Nolan or he would have made himself nonthreatening instead. He just wanted to scare him away.

It didn't work. Theo realized why as he smelled alcohol and noted the indistinct slur of Nolan's words as he talked to...shit, Gabe's gravestone.

Theo hesitated, unsure why it made a difference, why he felt like slinking away without disturbing Nolan.

He cocked his head. What were Nolan and Gabe to each other? Comrades in a fanatical war or something else? Something like him and Liam?

Liam. Liam wouldn't want Theo to be cruel to Nolan, but Liam was also the reason Theo was here, and dammed if he would let Nolan interfere with that.

"Nolan."

The ex-hunter yelped and whipped his head around. A blue bottle slipped from his fingers as he stumbled to his feet. It was empty based on the sound it made when it hit the grass.

"Theo!" Nolan snatched the bottle back up and held it by the neck like a weapon.

"Go away and that won't be necessary."

Nolan's posture indicated imminent compliance, but then his unfocused gaze widened on the shovel propped across Theo's shoulder, and he took a protective, if clumsy, step closer to Gabe's grave.

"I'm not here for him." Theo strode forward and met Nolan's bleary eyes. This was his last chance to do things the pleasant way. "Leave."

Nolan licked his lips and darted back, tripping over the grave next to Gabe's and once again dropping his bottle. He didn't pick it up this time, just skittered away backwards on his hands and feet until he hit the next row of headstones and rolled over. He sprang up and stumble-ran into the darkness.

He wasn't supposed to do that. He wasn't supposed to smell this afraid.

Theo took slow, calming breathes and rooted his feet in place. Nolan was like a deer begging to be chased, hunted, torn apart.

Theo's spine twitched and a sharp, nervous energy rippled through his body. He longed to drop to all fours and let his wolf have its prey, but...

He swallowed and stared up at the nearly full moon with glowing eyes and a mouth full of fangs. He wasn't a werewolf. And it wasn't the moon driving his bloodlust. He had a choice.

Theo didn't move until he heard Nolan's car door slam.

"Aww fuck," Corey moaned as he slammed his bare cock into the stranger stretched across his bed. "His ass feels so good, Mace."

He pulled out until his glans caught on the guy's rim, rocked back and forth a few times, and drove back in hard and fast.

"Uhnn, his mouth too," Mason whined, bouncing on his toes beside the bed and using his thumbs to guide his spit-slicked cock further down the stranger's throat.

Corey spread the guy's thighs wider and lifted his hips off the bed, desperate to rail him deeper as he tracked a bead of sweat down Mason's tight, sinewy lower stomach and into his curly, close-cropped pubes. Corey reach over and scratched his fingertips through the tidy nest of damp hair, grinning at the evidence of Mason's prolonged, labored fucking. They had been taking turns on the guy for well over an hour, but Corey had spent more time in his ass since as a chimera it was safe for him to bareback, whereas Mason had to use a condom.

Mason clutched the side of Corey's head and guided him up so they were face to face, leaving the guy between them to do most of the riding and sucking for them. "I've been on the edge nonstop for the last ten minutes."

"Me too." Corey squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his forehead against Mason's as he took another hard, reckless thrust, half-hoping it would be too much and he would finally spill his load. His cock felt un-fucking-believable and even with his naturally low core temperature his whole body was hot and sweaty.

"Let's see if we can make him cum a fourth time." Mason said it loud enough for the guy to hear. He whimpered and clutched Mason's ass as he gagged himself on Mason's cock. "He deserves to blow one more time while we're creaming both ends."

Corey nodded and rolled back on his ankles, adjusting the angle of his thrusting until the guy's ass clenched around him and his spent dick stirred. Got it. Corey paused and took a deep breath, getting himself under control before driving in against the same spot. Holy fuck, the guy better not take long.

Mason's hands were on the guy's chest, kneading his pecs and tweaking his nipples. The guy whined and thrashed but didn't try to break contact. If Corey and Mason were sweaty, their well-fucked stranger was an absolute mess. His toned, muscular torso was drenched in sweat and his own cum. Corey and Mason had held back all night, waiting for a big finish, but the guy hadn't been shy about unloading every chance he got. He'd lost his erection after the second time, cum with a semi the third, and been soft ever since but showed no signs of wanting to stop.

Corey played with the guy's junk with a focused intensity, massaging his balls and rolling the pad of his finger against the underside of the guy's flared dickhead. Soon the guy was heavy in Corey's hand. He could maybe cum like this, but Corey wanted to make sure it was as good for him as possible, so he added more lube and tickle-rubbed the guy's shaft, coaxing it until it was full and stiff.

"I fucking love watching you work his dick."

"I know you do, babe." Corey let go long enough to pat Mason's chest.

"It's-it's really hot." Mason's face scrunched with concentration and the base of his cock pulsed between the guy's lips.

"Yeah?" Corey tapped his finger against the guy's tip, showing Mason the bead of precum he'd eeked out. "You wanna know how my cock feels right now?"

"Yeah." Mason nodded brokenly and rolled his hips in a circle.

"It's tingling all over." Corey drew his eyebrows together and gave Mason his most innocent, awe-struck look, knowing what it did for him. "And it's throbbing so much, Mace. My head keeps rubbing his hot inner walls and it's just– it's...sparrrrks."

"Aaah!" Mason rammed as far as he could down the guy's throat and collapsed forward against Corey's chest.

Corey held his boyfriend with one arm and jerked the stranger with a frenzy as he gave up any restraint and went wild on his ass, bucking and bouncing harder than he had all night.

The stranger's ass clamped around Corey's cock and his hips arched off the bed as he dribbled a fourth load into Corey's hand. The volume was unimpressive, but the way he thrashed and gagged and moaned was anything but.

Time stopped as Corey hit the point of no return. His mouth dropped open and his cock throbbed and spasmed, every nerve-ending alight with a sensitivity that was almost too much to take. Each thrust through the guy's fluttery-tight ring was heaven and Corey rode the edge as long as he could before exploding, blasting a stream of cum that he could feel spraying out of his swollen, throbbing tip.

Fuuuuuuuck!

He clutched Mason's back, quaking and panting as the torrents kept firing out of him.

"That's it, Cor, keep pumping! Don't stop! Don't stop!" Mason whispered against his mouth. He had moved closer, climbing fully onto the bed and dislodging his cock from the guy's throat. "Fill him all the way."

Corey closed his eyes and gave a trembling nod because he was doing just that, taking long, sloppy thrusts in and out of a fully coated, squelching hole. Awww fuck it felt good. He plunged his tongue through Mason's soft lips as endorphins engulfed his brain.

Mason moaned into Corey's mouth and writhed in his arms, and through the cloudy, sublime haze, Corey noted a vigorous slurping sound. Their stranger was eating Mason out as Corey gently fucked his bred hole. A loopy grin formed on Corey's lips even as he probed his tongue deeper into Mason's hot mouth.

They made out until eventually they had to stop to let the stranger off Corey's cock and out from under Mason's thighs. Mason jerked Corey's slick erection and darted his eyes down and back as he wiggled his bottom.

Oh yeah, that was for sure happening as soon as the guy left and Corey washed his cock. How could he not make full use of Mason's rimmed hole?

"I'll walk you out," Corey said, as the stranger slid to the edge of the mattress. He bounced to his toes and hopped off the bed ahead of him, ignoring his swollen, dripping cock, so he could offer the guy a hand and help him up.

"Fuck, how are you still so energetic? I can barely stand."

Corey wrapped an arm around the guy's back and supported him while they scanned the bedroom for his clothes.

"Well, I wasn't the one taking two cocks like a champ." Corey gave him a quick squeeze and pecked his lips before separating to retrieve the guy's pants from the opposite side of the room.

Mason sat up and patted the guy's thigh while Corey gathered the rest of his clothes. "Thanks for a fun evening."

"Yeah, thanks for" –the guy chuckled and ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair– "just thanks."

"You can shower if you want," Corey said, pausing before handing him his shirt. He really was a sweaty, cummy mess.

"Will when I get home," the guy answered, taking his shirt and tugging it over his head.

"You're, uh..." Corey cleared his throat and smirked as the guy turned to pull on his underwear, revealing a thick trail of Corey's cum dribbling down the back of his thighs.

"Yeah." He returned the smirk and stepped into his jeans. "You guys are a lot of fun. This was just what I needed tonight." He kissed Mason's cheek then followed Corey out of the room.

Corey leaned over and flicked on a lamp as they entered the living room.

"You ever bottom?"

Corey felt the guy staring at his bare ass as he crossed the room ahead of him. "Yep."

"I would have liked that," he answered, lingering by the front door.

"Shoulda asked." Corey shrugged and gave the guy a tight hug before opening the door. "Drive safe..."

"Mike," he answered as he stepped outside.

"Hey, you finally told me!" Corey peered around the door and grinned at him, careful not to flash the neighbors. "Drive safe, Mike. There're a lot of crazies out there."

"He's having a seizure." Valdés' tone was calm, almost soothing, but her words carried a clear urgency.

Monroe turned in her seat to check on her injured soldier. Davis was wild-eyed and drooling as he convulsed beside Valdés.

"And now he's bleeding again." Valdés caught Davis' flailing arm and applied pressure to the makeshift bandage, stemming the fresh stream of blood that flowed down his elbow and dripped all over the seat and his already saturated shirt.

Before Monroe could respond, her driver turned to her with a haunted expression.

"They killed Tarses and Walsh." Taylor's hand shook on the steering wheel. "They're dead."

"I know." She arched her brow and gave him a hard look. "I was there, soldier."

"I'm not," Taylor whispered, returning his eyes to the road. "I'm not a soldier. I'm just a bank teller."

What he was, was the weakest link in tonight's six-person mission. Monroe would have happily traded Taylor's life for either Tarses' or Walsh's, but in the week since the Anuk-Ite's influence had vanished the number of hunters she could count on to reliably answer the call of duty had dwindled. The SUV's current occupants aside, she barely had forces to field a second unit. She'd be damned if she would let anyone else desert.

"You signed up to fight a war, to save human lives, to defend the helpless against monsters." She dropped a hand on Taylor's shoulder and squeezed. "That makes you a soldier, Ross, a hero."

He cleared his throat and a proud smile formed across his face, but it was short-lived as they pulled up to a traffic light. "But Tarses and Walsh..."

"Knew the risks and died as heroes."

He licked his lips. "We're gonna go back to recover their bodies, right?"

"No." Monroe stared into the darkness that bore down on them from all directions. "I doubt there's much left to recover."

"If anyone's interested, Davis' seizure is over and I managed to stop the bleeding." Valdés' tone was ice.

"Run the light," Monroe ordered before turning her attention to the row of seats behind her. "Nice work, Lieutenant."

The SUV crept forward, Taylor's head darting all around in the periphery of Monroe's vision.

"Soldier, it's the middle of the night. You would see headlights if someone were coming."

"R-right."

"I think...have...fever." Davis' head lolled against the headrest, his arm clutched to his chest.

"Are those things venomous?" Valdés asked Monroe.

Monroe ignored the question, which she couldn't answer. "You'll be fine," she told Davis, framing it as an order rather than a reassurance. "We're going to consult an expert in supernatural healing."

Valdés' lips parted and she tensed. "You're taking him, us, to the McCall's emissary."

Monroe smiled. Valdés was the only one of her people who would have caught that, or even known werewolf packs had emissaries. She had chosen her second in command well. "I am."

Valdés clearly wanted to question the decision, but held her tongue.

Monroe's smile deepened and she decided to reward her lieutenant's faith with information.

"I've been monitoring Beacon Hills over the past week. Anyone who would have been a threat to us has already left. Scott's in France with his girlfriend. The banshee and the Sheriff's son are both away at college. The hybrid and the former alpha are back in London, and Gerard's traitorous son is in South America with Derek Hale."

"And the others?" Valdés tipped her head, concern tightening her features. "The werewolf you exposed and his friends?"

"Liam?" Monroe laughed. "Oh, Liam and his pack of misfits are the least of our concerns."

Rural Maine

Dale trudged down the darkened highway, his arms crossed over his chest and his shoulders hunched in a pointless attempt to ward off the cold November air. He was pissed that his parents hadn't found him yet, or that apparently Todd hadn't called the police when their call dropped. What kind of friend didn't call the police when their buddy's call dropped? Dale was so done with that chimpdick. Imagine making an accident victim walk home. Lanie would be outraged when he told her later. She'd probably suck his cock to make him feel better. Any decent girlfriend would. He'd be sure to tell her that.

"Fucking finally," Dale muttered as a car slowed behind him and pulled over.

Dale didn't know much about cars, but this one seemed unremarkable – old but not that old, small but not that small, dark, maybe black or navy. It was hard to tell without much light. It had power windows though, which it demonstrated as the front passenger side rolled down to reveal an empty seat.

"Need a ride?" The voice was young, female. Dale breathed a sigh of relief. He knew better than to get in a car alone with some gruff, middle-aged man named Billy Bob who'd take him home to his farm and feed him to his hogs, but accepting a ride from a young woman was safe.

"Thanks," Dale called as he approached the car and got in.

He did a double take and grinned when he saw the driver. She was a hot Asian chick with long, dark hair that partially covered one side of her oval face. She wore nice, thick makeup with heavy eyeshadow and bright red lipstick. Dale hated girls who pretended the natural look was okay. Half the bitches in his class felt comfortable walking around school with their hair pulled back and acne all over their foreheads. It was disgusting and so inconsiderate of the people who had to look at them.

"Where can I take you?"

"Anywhere you want," Dale answered with a crooked nod.

"Is that so?" She smiled at him, her hair falling further into her face. She unzipped her jacket, revealing a low-cut blue blouse before she shifted the car into gear and pulled back onto the road. Her tits were small but perky.

"I just live up the road apiece. I'll letcha know where to turn." Dale ran his eyes over the rest of her body. She wore a knee-length red skirt that made Dale's cock stir as he thought about lifting it and stroking the inside of her thighs. He discreetly brushed his palm over his crotch. He'd go higher and higher until his fingers were in her panties. A girl like this probably went full Brazilian, probably couldn't wait to show off her smooth, pretty cooch. "So, I was just in an accident awhile ago."

"Oh my god." She raised a hand to her perky little chest and gave him a sympathetic smile, her fake eyelashes batting. "Are you okay?"

"I dunno," Dale answered, allowing a whine to slip into his voice as he rubbed his shoulder. "My arm hurts. Some stupid deer with a death wish ran in front of me and made me hit a tree."

"How traumatic." Her fingers grazed his shoulder.

"It really was." Dale turned his head from side to side, easing the stiffness in his neck. "The government oughta arrest all those deers or somethin'. I mean, that one's dead, but I bet he has like a whole gang waitin' at home to cause trouble."

She gave him a dull look that made him self conscious. She must have been one of those liberals from Down East who didn't believe in detaining unregistered deers. He didn't want to get political so he decided to change the subject.

"You from 'round these parts? I notice ya got an accent."

"Montreal."

"No shit! I was thinkin' ya were Asian."

"My family moved from Vietnam after the war."

"Oh yeah, which war's that?"

She sighed and held out her hand. "I'm Mimi."

"Dale." He clasped her fingers, surprised by how rough and cold they were, and it might have been a trick of the moonlight, but it looked like there were bruises on her knuckles. "You live 'round here long, Mimi?"

"I lived...not long no."

"Well how old are ya anyway?"

"Dale." She clicked her tongue. "It's rude to ask a lady that."

Dale sniggered, positive she was flirting with him. "I just wanna know if it's legal for you to touch me."

She slowed the car and turned more fully in her seat as she looked him over. He sat up straight, puffing out his chest. The shadows gave her face a weird sunken look, but he dismissed it. There was enough light to see she was hot like he had thought.

"I assure you when I touch you, there won't be anything legal about it." Mimi's tongue flicked across her pouted lips as she pulled the car over.

Dale swallowed hard, a pang of apprehension fluttering in his gut. "I-I'm seventeen."

"Twenty-three," she answered, unhooking her seatbelt.

Dayuuum!

Tonight was turning out way better than it had started.

"Well, I won't tell if you won't," he answered, reaching across the seat and squeezing her right tit. Yep, perky.

"Deal." She practically kissed the word at him. "Let me just get something from the back."

Dale hiked up her skirt as she fished around in the backseat. He was eager to get his fingers between her legs and start working his magic before she backed out.

"Eww!" He cringed and jerked his hand away as his index finger grazed a huge, wet scab midway up her thigh. He gagged and blinked in horror. With every inch he hitched her skirt higher, he exposed more scars, cuts, and open sores. "What the hell happened to you?!"

"I'm fine." She shook her head, flipping the hair back away from her face and revealing a hole in her cheek that went all the way down to the bone. Something in the seat behind Dale rattled and clanged like...like his dad's toolbox. "I just need to eat."

Dale hissed and cowered back in his seat. "Bitch, eatin' ain't gonna fix that."

He fumbled for the door handle.

Holy fuck, there was no door handle!

"Wanna bet?" She grinned and raised her hand. Moonlight glinted off a–

Dale's jaw dropped.

–a hammer.

He blinked in disbelief as it hurtled toward the side of his head.

The pain was instant and debilitating. All of Dale's senses exploded in a crescendo of light and heat and ringing. Then the detached sensation from the accident was back with a vengeance. It was like Dale wasn't even in the car anymore. His eyes wouldn't work, and the ringing wouldn't stop, and he was at once flooded with agony yet numb all over.

There was something jagged and wet in his hands. He ran his fingers over it. It was heavy and...and concave. The outside was soft.

His vision flickered back, blurry but...

No...that...no...

He was holding a piece of his own skull.

Theo slammed the sledgehammer down, splintering chunks of concrete into the air.

The stench of death assaulted his nostrils as he broke through the burial vault, even with the wooden casket beneath it still intact. The regular odor of corpse rot was nothing new to Theo, but the embalming chemicals that had been used to preserve the body were. They added an unnatural burn that stung the back of his throat and made his eyes water.

The body was buried too far down for Theo to stand on the ground while he worked, so he squatted on the edge of the burial vault and swung his sledgehammer over his head, steadily making the concrete hole bigger and exposing more of the casket underneath.

His mind wandered as he worked, adrift in childhood memories of burying corpses in shallow graves in the woods as the Dread Doctors looked on, directing him. It wasn't always a unidirectional process. Occasionally he helped freshly risen chimeras dig themselves back out, particularly the ones without claws. Although it was seldom a good sign if they couldn't unearth themselves. None of the other chimeras before Beacon Hills had been a success, but Theo had usually wound up reburying the weak, clawless ones sooner rather than later. Except of course in Beacon Hills where Parrish had taken care of second round of body disposal as the resident hellhound. That convenience had in part helped Theo find the time to pursue his own agenda in earnest.

He contemplated the chimera pack he had created and briefly led as he dug himself a narrow tract around the inner perimeter of the grave where he could stand once it became necessary to destroy the edges of the burial vault completely in order to open the casket.

Another resurrection. Better this time?

Hayden and Corey flitted through Theo's mind's eye as he jumped and snagged the crowbar he had left protruding over the edge of the grave.

No, not better. It would have been delusional to pretend otherwise. They were fully alive. This...this would be different.

He wedged the crowbar under the lip of the casket's lid.

I'm not like the others. The words caressed Theo's ears the way fingers had caressed his face. I can't take your pain.

Theo swallowed, torn between fighting the memory and embracing it. The latter won out as he recalled the trust in Tracy's eyes.

No one had looked at Theo like that in years. No one. And–

"I know. It's okay. You can do something else for me," Theo whispered, the phantom sensation of her skin beneath his fingers warmed his hands even as he wrapped them tight around the cold metal crowbar. "You can give me your power."

With a single heave Theo threw the lid of the casket open.

It was too late to bring her back, or Josh, or Tara, or any of the many other lives he had taken but–

Theo clenched his jaw and held his breath as he forced his gaze to the decaying form rotting a few inches away.

Since that moment in his lair a year prior, no one had looked at Theo with such complete trust as Tracy had seconds before he murdered her and stole her power.

But someone had come close. Someone had looked at Theo with almost as much trust. Someone had brought Theo back from hell and saved him from the endless loop of torture and torment Tara had inflicted upon him.

And Liam missed Brett.

"C'mon," Theo whispered, smiling at the two-week old corpse as he unfolded the tarp. "Let's get you fixed up."

Nolan turned off his car and slumped against the steering wheel. Maybe he should sleep out here tonight. He didn't like sleeping in an empty house anyway. Sleeping in an empty car might better.

He might have dozed off for a little while, but then he got cold and he had to pee. Empty house it was.

He swatted at the door handle until it surrendered and opened. Standing wasn't easy, but he managed it and even got his car door closed.

As he stumbled up the driveway an uneasy feeling twisted in his stomach. Guilt. Nolan had promised his sister he wouldn't drink and drive when she had bought him the Blue Beast. He hadn't meant to, not really. He had simply driven somewhere and gotten drunk. The getting home part hadn't been factored in either way.

He rubbed his head and frowned into the distance at his blurry front door. His driveway was much too long. If Dad came home again he'd ask about having it shortened.

He gasped and clutched his stomach.

Not guilt! Not guilt!

Nolan dropped to his knees and threw up in the grass next to the pavement.

It helped clear his head but a fresh round of chills accompanied the clarity. He got up and hurried inside, dropping his keys on the floor as he missed the rack. Whatever. He shrugged off his jacket and left it laying beside the keys. Now he wouldn't forget either of them when he went to school in the morning.

He trudged to his room and peeled his shirt over his head. As he wiped his mouth with it, he pondered what to do about what he had seen. He should probably forget it, pretend it never happened. But...

He dug his phone out of the pocket of his jeans and pulled up Liam's name in his contacts.

"Hello?"

"You told me." Nolan slumped on the foot of his bed and stared at his shoes.

"Nolan? I told you what?"

"To let you know." Nolan took a long breath, focused on pronouncing each word carefully so Liam wouldn't realize he'd been drinking. "If I saw. Anything strange. In town."

"Why are you talking so slow?" Liam asked. "Are you okay?"

"No." He let out a shaky half-sob and ran his free hand through his dirty, matted hair.

"What happened?" Liam's had voice softened. He didn't sound like a terrifying werewolf at all.

Nolan wanted to tell him, wanted to explain that Gabe had been his only real friend, that after the debacle with the hunters and the Anuk-Ite no one else wanted anything to do with him, that Liam and Coach were the only people at school who didn't treat him like a monster, that his dad didn't really live at home anymore, and his sister was away at college, and his therapist didn't know about the supernatural...that sometimes Nolan wished he could trade places with Gabe.

"Nolan, what happened?"

Now there was something in Liam's tone that Nolan couldn't identify.

Concern?

Yeah, right. Like Liam gave a shit about him after everything he had done to him. It was probably irritation that Nolan was wasting his time.

"Theo..." Nolan shivered. There was something off about Theo. He wasn't like Liam and the others in his pack. He seemed calm and collected, but there was a darkness behind his eyes that–

"Theo what, Nolan? What did Theo do?"

Nolan trucked his heel against the edge of the mattress and hugged his knee to his chest as he fumbled with his shoelaces. "Maybe you already know this or maybe it's not what I'm thinking–"

"What the fuck is it?!"

"Theo was at the cemetery with a shovel, and like, other tools. I think he was gonna rob a grave."

Nolan hung up before Liam could respond and silenced his phone when Liam tried to call back.

He stripped out of the rest of his clothes. He needed a shower...and to believe Liam wasn't going to yell at him and call him a liar for accusing his friend of something so horrible.

He would probably never speak to Nolan again.

"This is a veterinary clinic."

"An astute observation, Taylor." Monroe sighed and curled her fingers around the car door handle. "Come along. Help Valdés with Davis."

"But are we in the right place?"

She ignored him and climbed out of the SUV.

"Open the door. We'll take him out on your side," Valdés instructed.

Monroe drew the jacket more tightly around her shoulders and marched to the front door of the clinic. It was locked. She rapped on the glass.

"I-I think they're closed," Taylor said, the parking lot gravel crunching as they dragged Davis forward. "Maybe we should take him to the ER."

"We didn't drive all this way to go to a regular ER." Monroe knocked harder. "I know you're in there, Doctor. Let us in or we'll just have to smash the glass."

Monroe didn't know if Deaton was inside or not. It was merely a gamble. But if she was wrong, they would smash their way in. This seemed like the best place to search for medical supplies that might actually be of use against a supernatural bite.

"Shoot the door."

"Steady now." Valdés tapped Davis' wrist and braced her shoulder under his arm as she reached for the gun holstered on her hip.

"That won't be necessary," a muffled voice called through the door as the lock rattled.

"Good evening, Doctor." Monroe gave the man a predatory smile as he appeared in the doorway.

"I fear it won't be." Deaton stepped back to make room for them to enter. Darkness shrouded the waiting room, but warm golden light spilled from the open door of the druid's office behind the counter. "Why are you here?"

Monroe didn't answer, just swept a hand toward Davis as he slumped between Taylor and Valdés. He minutely raised his bandaged, bloodied arm from where it hung over Taylor's chest.

"I see." Deaton frowned and his eyes shifted toward his exam room, but he made no move to step aside or lead them there.

Monroe crowded close and lowered her voice. "This is what you do, Doctor. Heal those who are injured in supernatural conflicts. Maintain the balance."

"And you're a school councilor tasked with providing positive guidance to the next generation." Deaton smiled and tilted his head. "How's that going?"

"Wonderfully," Monroe answered with a smile of her own. "Will you help willingly or...?"

Deaton's lips twitched and his eyes narrowed, but he turned and strode to the exam room. "Bring him in." He reached around the wall and flicked on the light. "What were you hunting? What did this?"

"Wendigos."

"Are you sure you can't stay over?" Corey whispered, nuzzling his chin against the top of Mason's head. They were cuddled up on Corey's couch, not quite watching the Sabrina reboot on Netflix. Corey was warm and comfortable in his pajamas, curled snuggly behind Mason's back with his hand slid under Mason's shirt so he could clutch his bare chest.

"I want to." Mason squeezed Corey's leg between his thighs. "But it's a school night."

Since Mason couldn't see it, Corey let the pout form on his face. It wasn't fair. Mason should have been wearing pajamas too, Corey's pajamas, not stupid, heavy going-home clothes.

"How much longer do we have?"

Mason chuckled and stroked Corey's hand through his shirt. "Maybe ten minutes."

Corey opened his mouth to make a last ditch effort to convince him, but the unwelcome coo of his mother's voice and the creaking of footsteps on the porch steps outside stopped him.

"–rub your back and make you a nice blueberry tea."

Mason stiffened and raised his head. "Your parents are home?"

"I guess..." Corey was as surprised as his boyfriend. They never came home this early when they went out.

Keys rattled and the lock groaned – along with Corey and Mason as they untangled themselves and sat up.

"I couldn't get through this crisis without you, Sansan," Corey's father murmured, wrapping his arms around Corey's mother and pulling her in for a kiss as they stood in the open doorway.

"Ooh Caycay," Corey's mother panted into the man's mouth as she climbed into his arms and straddled his waist.

"You're not alone!" Corey banged on the coffee table and looked away as his father's hand drifted up the back of his mother's blouse.

They broke apart, scowling.

"Dammit, what are you doing here?" Corey's father's voice carried more disapproval than usual.

Corey folded his arms. "I live here."

"Isn't it about time you two got a place of your own?" he asked, glowering at Corey and Mason as Corey's mother unwrapped herself from his body and shut the door.

"No it isn't," Corey answered, glaring back at the man but leaning his head against Mason's hand when he squeezed his shoulder. "Because we're in high school."

Corey's mother sighed and waved the back of her hand at them in a shooing gesture. "You boys go play in your room."

"Again, we're in high school."

"Then go play big boy games. Just leave us alone" She perched on the arm of the couch and laced her fingers with Corey's father, tugging him close. "Your poor father's had a terrible night. We had to drive all the way to Gaunt Bluffs and back. His mother is in the hospital."

"What?!" Corey jumped to his feet, his blood running cold.

"Oh yeah, your nana's in the hospital," she muttered at Corey before turning sympathetic eyes on Corey's father and kissing his knuckles. "Don't worry, sweetie, she'll be okay."

"What happened?" Corey whispered, his throat closing.

"Ssshhh." She raised a finger to her lips. "We're not talking about it."

Mason was on his feet too, holding Corey tight from behind and easing just a bit of the ache in his chest. "Sandra, please tell us what happened? Corey deserves to know."

"Uhm." She gave Corey's father a questioning look.

"It was a..." Corey's father cleared his throat "An animal attack."

"Oh god." Corey covered his face with his hands. "Where was Nana when it happened?"

"Church," his father answered.

"Church?" Mason guided Corey back down onto the couch. "Wild animals attacked her in a church?"

Mason was right. That was strange. Corey raised his head and looked between his parents as he tried to process the information.

"Yes, the doors were open to welcome everyone in and-and a pack of feral dogs took advantage of that," Corey's mother said, nodding at Corey's father.

"That's right. Feral dogs." He wrapped an arm around Corey's mother and kissed the side of her head. "Vicious beasts. Mom's lucky to be alive. They killed several people in the congregation."

"Oh god." Corey buried his face against Mason's chest, struggling not to break down in front of his parents.

Mason rubbed Corey's back and nuzzled the top of his head. "That's…odd behavior for feral dogs,"

"Look kid, for all I know those damn dogs were militant atheists with an axe to grind against religious folks. I wasn't there!"

"Shush now, Mason, You're upsetting Caleb," Corey's mother chided.

Corey wanted to defend his boyfriend, but he couldn't get the image of his Nana being mauled by dogs out of his mind.

With a final grunt, Theo hefted Brett's corpse onto the surgical table he had prepared in the Dread Doctors' abandoned underground lab. The table had been used for the chimera experiments and featured, among other things, walled sides and a drain, making it a sort of trough.

Once the body was in place, Theo folded his arms across the raised metal wall and lowered his head in exhaustion, by now completely desensitized to the burn of embalming chemicals a few inches from his face.

After a moment's rest it was time to unwrap the tarp. Theo hissed through his teeth and fought back an involuntary gag that even his abundant experience around dead bodies couldn't fully suppress. Carrying Brett's corpse through the tunnel system hadn't been easy, but the trip down had been harder on Brett. He was firmly in the skin slippage phase of decomposition and the putrefied flesh of his face had pooled around his chin and the sides of his head. His ears looked ready to come off, and his cheekbones were about to get a hell of a lot more prominent.

Theo donned a pair of thick surgical gloves and set to work cutting apart Brett's clothes and peeling them off him. Everything was sticky and gooey, except where it was runny and slimy. The pieces of fabric clung stubbornly to Brett's body and the table, and by the time Theo was done removing all of Brett's clothes, he had also removed virtually all of Brett's top layer of skin and many of his soft, fleshy bits.

"Oh, bet you're gonna want this back," Theo mumbled as he removed what was probably Brett's favorite soft fleshy bit from the heap of clothes about to go in the incinerator.

He placed it back between Brett's legs. Supposedly the zombification process would restore everything, but he was sure Brett wouldn't want him to take any chances.

Hmm.

Theo tilted his head and eyed it speculatively. That didn't look right. He flipped it around, unsure which end was which. Oh well, if he was wrong it would just make Brett a more interesting person.

He thumbed the Pathologist's notes while Brett's clothes were burning. He frowned. This part might be a little gross.

Theo tied on a surgical apron, slipped on a new pair of gloves, and covered his eyes with safety glasses before grabbing a scalpel from the trey of tools setup beside the table trough. He massaged the pile of sagging, gooey flesh beneath Brett's jaw, working as much as he could back onto his face and exposing his neck. As carefully as he could, he made an incision in Brett's carotid–

Brown sludge sprayed across Theo's face, coating his lips, nose, and glasses. Dammit, he had forgotten to put on a surgical mask!

The acrid burn was overwhelming as Theo vigorously wiped his face with the bottom of his apron. It was the highest concentration of embalming fluid Theo had been exposed to yet. Lucky there were some rotting bodily fluids in the mix to dilute it.

Theo's assaulted senses notwithstanding, it was a good sign there was still so much pressure in Brett's veins. It meant his circulatory system was largely intact, which was the critical factor for whether or not the procedure would be a success.

Theo made a second incision in Brett's other carotid artery, this time standing closer and taking the spray of brown sludge in the chest. He tipped the table back to let all the unwanted fluids drain.

While Brett was draining, Theo changed into a new set of gear. He was going through it quickly, but it wasn't like the Surgeon was around to punish him for being wasteful.

Two nights earlier Theo had broken into the abandoned Dread Doctor lab in search of a place to stay and had ended up settling into the Pathologist's old quarters since that room smelled the least of rat feces and mold. Curiosity and a blind hope that he could turn the space into something livable long-term had Theo rifling though the Pathologist's cabinets and drawers.

And that was when he found it: a glass vial filled with iridescent green goo. It was labeled ZOM6528, and it looked special enough that Theo consulted the small notebook tucked on the shelf alongside the vials. Even with Theo's extensive, firsthand knowledge of parascientific research, what he had read shocked him. Back before Theo had gotten entangled with the Dread Doctors, the Pathologist had developed and tested a formula capable of turning corpses into zombies.

A little ray of warmth had glowed in Theo's chest as he reflected on how upset Liam had been about Brett's recent death. It glowed again as he tried to picture the look on Liam's face when he showed him what he had done.

It was all so new and unfamiliar, caring about someone else's happiness, but he did. Liam was his friend, his first ever true friend, and Theo wanted to make him happy.

Theo cleared his throat and pushed the strange, sentimental feelings away. He couldn't get too invested in the outcome of tonight's experiment in case it failed. Based on the dates in the Pathologist's notebook, the zombie serum concentrate was over a decade old, and while the dilution and formulation process to create enough of the substance to transfuse Brett's body was relatively simple, there was no guarantee the serum was still viable.

Regardless, Theo would know soon. It was time to add the catalyst and begin the transfusion.

Davis had two more seizures while Deaton tended to his wounds and bandaged his arm. When he was done, the doctor gave him an injection in the shoulder above his injuries and told him to rest.

"Thank you," Davis murmured as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

Valdés started to speak, but Deaton raised a finger to his lips and caught Monroe's eye. He glanced toward the door and she nodded, following him out into the waiting room to talk in private.

"Well, Doctor, will he live?"

"Oh he'll live." Deaton arched his brow. "One way or another."

"What does that mean?"

"I gave him something that should decrease the severity of the seizures, but it's only masking his symptoms, not countering the underlying infection."

"Infection?"

"It will last about eight-to-twelve hours."

"And then he'll be a wendigo?" Monroe asked, shifting her posture to feel the reassuring weight of the gun on her hip.

"Possibly," Deaton answered with a frown. "Or he'll be fine, still fully human. But either way–"

"I'll know in eight-to-twelve hours," Monroe finished.

Deaton nodded.

"So you hate wendigos, do you Doctor?" she asked with a muted laugh.

"Why do you say that?"

Monroe shrugged. "You've been a lot more accommodating since you learned that's what we were up against, and you wouldn't have shared that piece of information about his condition, knowing what I'll do with it if he turns, unless you implicitly approved."

"I assure you, Tamora, you do not have my approval." Deaton smiled and folded his arms. "Wendigos aren't subtle. You would have found out regardless. But if you can keep him from eating someone if he does turn..."

Monroe nodded. "And I assure you I will."

Deaton raised his hand as she started to step around him to go back to the exam room. "One more thing."

"Yes?"

"Where did this attack happen?"

Monroe paused, weighing whether or not there was any risk in telling him or any benefit in not. There didn't seem to be. "Gaunt Bluffs."

Deaton breathed a sigh of relief and visibly relaxed. "I hoped you would say that."

"Why?"

Monroe watched as Deaton seemed to engage in the same mental calculus before answering.

"Wendigos are drawn to Beacon Hills like all other supernatural creatures, but their hunger is insatiable. Werewolves and anything else vaguely human are at risk too. Thus hunters aren't the only ones who hunt them."

"I see." Monroe smiled. "But now that Scott and most of his pack have left, and the Argents and the Hales are no more, there aren't wolves or hunters left to protect this town from a full wendigo invasion."

"Something like that."

A shiver of delight ran down Monroe's spine. "Don't worry, Doctor, the hunters are returning to Beacon Hills."

Liam was furious as he pried the manhole cover open with his claws and climbed into the sewer. The underground tunnel system was full of bad memories, but he was out of places to look for Theo. He wasn't at the cemetery where Nolan had seen him, but it hadn't taken Liam long to find the exhumed grave...Brett's grave. Liam was going to tear Theo apart when he found him.

And it was Theo. At this point Liam would have rather believed that Nolan was responsible and covering his tracks, that maybe Monroe was back in town and using him – but that wasn't the case. Theo's scent was all over Brett's grave.

Liam was almost as pissed at himself as he was at Theo. In spite of everything, he had started to trust that evil son of a bitch. Lesson learned. He was going to rip Theo's face off.

He had thought about calling Mason and Corey, but he didn't want to put them in danger, and he didn't want them to stop him from doing whatever he needed to do to make Theo leave town once and for all.

It was a long shot that Theo was down here anyway. The disgustingly easy-to-follow trail had ended at the road by the cemetery where Theo must have parked. He was probably at home right now, working on whatever nefarious project involved Brett's corpse, but Liam didn't actually know where Theo lived. He always just seemed to appear out of nowhere in his truck. He wasn't answering his phone either because of course he wasn't answering his phone. So all Liam could do was hope that he might have decided to go back to the old Dread Doctor lab. It made a certain amount of sense. It was somewhere Theo would find familiar, and it was probably better equipped than his house for whatever dark purposes Theo had. It was lucky Liam had been to the Dread Doctor lab before and knew where it was. Well...it was something if not luck.

He froze and sniffed the noxious air as he reached a T-intersection in the tunnels. Crap, he was right. Both directions smelled like Brett's corpse with hints of Theo. Liam took the path that led toward the lab.

Ten minutes later he entered the Dread Doctor compound itself. He crept through the outer chamber toward the sound of Theo's heartbeat. Theo was in the next room, the surgical room.

Liam blinked in disbelief as he peered through the open doorway. Theo sat atop a metal stool, engrossed in what appeared to be one of the Dread Doctors' handwritten journals. That was strange enough, but a few feet away from him was a long, tub-like table filled with thick, bright green goo and hooked up to multiple pieces of equipment that Liam couldn't identify. The goo was completely opaque, but rising from it like a pale, fleshy island was Brett's face.

"What the hell, Theo?!" Liam gasped, struggling for air. "How could you?"

"Liam!" Theo hopped off the stool and set the journal on top of it. "I didn't hear you come in."

"You– You–" He pointed at Brett's submerged body.

Theo sighed and shook his head. A smile of all things lit his face. "It wanted this to be a surprise."

"Aaaahh!" Liam charged forward and grabbed Theo by the front of the shirt. He hurled him against the row of dingy metal storage cabinets that lined the wall.

"Oww, fuck!" Theo rolled onto his hands and knees and looked up at Liam with wide eyes, blood running down the side of his face. "Not how I was expecting you to react."

Liam growled and lunged to attack again, but Theo sprang up and slammed clawed hands into Liam's chest, ripping through his jacket and knocking him away. Liam stumbled and banged his hip against the cabinets but didn't fall.

"I thought you were different now!" Liam swiped at Theo's face, but he dodged back. "I thought you had changed."

Theo blocked Liam's next strike with his forearm and landed a gut punch with his other hand. "Just let me explain."

Liam feinted a right hook but delivered a left jab.

Theo's nose crunched and he staggered back. "Really? Again?"

Liam pressed his advantage and backed Theo up against the wall with a series of quick strikes, slashing Theo's arm every time he tried to block.

Theo caught Liam's next blow and tried to twist his arm and pivot around him, but Liam grabbed Theo's shoulder and squared his stance, locking Theo in place against the wall and denying him the range of motion to counter Liam's hold.

"I want you out of Beacon Hills by sunup." Liam dug his claws in and growled. "Don't ever come back!"

Theo's glowing golden eyes cooled back to hazel and his fangs retracted. He looked hurt, but Liam knew better than to believe it. "Liam..."

"I mean it." Liam let his own eyes cool just long enough to flare them for emphasis. "I better never see you again, Theo."

"Liam." Theo's expression and tone changed, and he motioned with his chin to something over Liam's shoulder. "Look."

He scoffed. As if he was going to fall for that.

"Liam?"

The voice sent chills down Liam's spine. He released Theo and spun around.

Brett was sitting up on the table, dripping with green slime and rubbing his smooth, unblemished chest where the poisoned arrow had pierced it.

"Where am I?"

-000-

End Notes:

I wasn't able to nail down a firm timeline on how long it was between Brett's death and the end of season 6B. For the sake of the story I assumed about a week, and it was likewise about a week between the end of the season and the start of this story – thus approximately two weeks since Brett died, but if anyone has a better timeline/more info, I'd love to hear it!

Also regarding the state of Brett's body, I researched decomposition rates as thoroughly as I could, but basically it depends quite a bit on individual factors and environmental conditions, as well as whether or not the body was embalmed, which again for the sake of the story I assumed it was. But if anyone wants to make a case that Brett should either be more or less decomposed, I'd definitely be interested.

Regarding the timeline of the story as a whole, I know Teen Wolf was a few years behind present time, and I believe the story wrapped up in what was 2013 to the characters – but I'm just not doing that and never do for my Teen Wolf stories. Instead it's early November 2018 in the story, or exactly present time. (And if the story is still on-going next year, which it likely will be, we'll bump it forward another year.)

Finally, Wikipedia tells me that "Windigoag is a plural form [of wendigo] (also spelled Windegoag, Wiindigooag, or Windikouk)" but I'm going with simply wendigos because I feel like it's more intuitive and a bit less...obtrusive, and I want it to blend in more than I want it to be strictly accurate.

Anyway, general story notes aside, I'm working on this project for NaNoWriMo 2018 in which writers attempt to write 50K words in November, so I'm hoping to hit that target and put out roughly 5-8 chapters within the next month. That definitely won't be nearly the entire story though. I'm anticipating that this will be quite a long one with maybe 200K words total. After NaNoWriMo ends my goal will be to post a new chapter roughly every 2-4 weeks.

Feedback is greatly appreciated!