Stiles entered the hospital room around noon before the showdown with the Argents. He had purposely kept himself from thinking of Lydia, unable to touch the ice cold core of grief inside him that she had come to this. The wasted potential of her life, all of her dreams, ambitions, the devastation of her family, the grief of her friends. It was just too painful. The night at the Formal, he had come within a hair of his lifelong dream coming true; claiming his first and only love for himself. Like an unattainable goddess on a mountaintop, he never really felt that he would do more than worship her from afar…but he had been so close.

Now, no one can have her. The pain of almost imagining she was his…Stiles caught himself growling low in his throat. If Peter Hale were not already dead…

He took a deep breath, and launched into the speech he had rehearsed.

"Hey Lydia. It's me, Stiles. There's a chance I may die tonight, and not long ago we could have been coma buddies, so I didn't want to let the chance to say goodbye to you slip through my fingers. The Formal, before Peter… tried to turn you...well, up to that point, it was one of the happiest nights of my life. I got to pretend, at least to myself, that…"

He couldn't finish. His voice broke, and tears flowed from his yellowed eyes. He began again.

"The Argents. They've been trying to kill us. Now the whole Lacrosse team has turned, and Derek's taking us to fight them on their own turf. It'll be a full moon, we'll be strong and powerful…and I think some of us may die. If one of them is me, well…Lydia Martin… (here the tears were flowing freely) I need to tell you I have loved you all of my life with my whole heart." Stiles sniffed, and then took a deep breath. "You couldn't return that feeling, and I understand, but if I go down fighting, you will be my last thought on earth. Promise… to look for me on the other side. I'll be waiting."

Wiping his tears, and turning off the wolf eyes, he stood. A thought occurred to him, and made him smile. Here was Lydia, the fairy tale princess. In a cheesy story, he could awaken her with a kiss. The idea was part creepy, but hey, he was heading off to get killed. He stood by her bedside, studied the perfect features once more, and leaned down.

"Do it and die, Stilinski." said Lydia, her eyes opening to reveal that perfect sky blue color.

Stiles gave a small shriek and slipped backwards, falling on his ass on the hospital floor.

The goddess…the fairy tale princess, sat up in the hospital bed and gave a cheek stretching yawn ending in a light burp.

"Ugh. No way is our first kiss going to be with me having coma-breath and not a stitch of make-up on, wearing this shroud. It's going to be perfect, and I am going to destroy you for all other women…forever."

She swung her legs off the bed, and methodically and viciously began to disconnect herself from all of the machinery. Alarms sounded, and a nurse rushed in.

"Ms. Martin, you agreed this morning to wait until the tests came back! No one expected you to wake up…um, this soon, and we have to see…"

"Things have changed. There are things I need to do. Clothes, release paperwork and make-up bag. NOW!"

The nurse fled.

Stiles stood up slowly, wanting to give her a hug, but joyfully afraid she would slug him.

"I listened to your heart through that whole speech. It wasn't Shakespeare, but you meant it. I am such an ass. Going after Jackson, knowing how much that Formal meant to you…it was inexcusable. I'm-"

"Don't say it. You don't have to." He said quickly.

She smiled at him, then took the bundle offered to her by the returning nurse and stepped into the bathroom. The nurse looked at Stiles.

"That your girlfriend?" she asked.

"Yeah…yeah! I think so!" he babbled, grinning.

She shook her head pityingly. "Kid…good luck." The nurse left.

When she emerged from the shower, feeling more alive than ever before, she checked her face in the mirror. She should have looked wasted after being asleep so long, but her face looked as fresh and flawless as ever...except for the golden yellow that replaced the usual blue of her eyes.

"Shit. What outfit goes with that color?"

Her nails were a wreck, clipped short by some clueless hospital staffer.

Narrowing her eyes, she stared at her fingernails until they began to grow into sharpened claws. A little polish, some buffing... oh, there were some definite perks to this. Teeth were brushed, flossed, mouth washed.

She dressed, then methodically applied her make-up, knowing that Stiles would wait an age for her if she wished…not that she wanted to make him wait.

After her hair was dried, styled and arranged to her satisfaction, she glanced at the completed picture.

The vision she presented to Stiles when she opened the door stopped his heart in his chest.

"I'd say 'the bitch is back', but that's tired. Tomorrow, we are going to spend the day watching 'The Notebook' and discussing its finer points. How does that sound?"

"Awesome!" he exclaimed. He meant it. She rolled her eyes.

"It's no fun for me if you ACTUALLY enjoy it! Let's go."

"Where?" he asked, bewildered.

"To meet up with the rest of the boys. No one puts my boy toy in a coma but me. Their 'nads are going to be my new earrings. Eeew, did I just say that?"

"L-lydia-" he stuttered.

"Even Jackson knew better than to argue with me, Stiles."

He shut up. They left, Stiles walking just a few steps behind the unstoppable Lydia. Stiles filled Lydia in on everything that happened since the Formal, which she took in without interruption. Somehow she was able to keep up with Stiles' conga line of run-on sentences.

When they arrived at the house, Jackson, in his role of second-in-command, was going over last minute details with the group. That all stopped as he looked, speechless, at the girl he never thought he would see awake again.

"Lydia? Oh my God…" He rushed over to her, followed by a joyful Scott and Allison.

Allison got to her first, and the two friends hugged for long minutes while she briefly described her miraculous recovery.

Derek approached, listening to the tail end of her story.

"The bite has never taken so long to work on someone, Lydia. Any idea why that might be?"

"None. What's your guess?" she asked.

"The Argents are working on something like a bioweapon. Something that fights the wolf inside us. I wasn't able to find out much, except that it interferes with our biological processes in some way. It could have delayed your turning, which worries me. What would it do in someone who was already a werewolf? Do you remember taking anything unusual?"

Lydia shook her head, until a sudden flash of memory made her stop.

"At the formal. I put my glass down for a second, and thought it looked fuller when I picked it up. Great, roofied like a freshman at a frat party."

Derek nodded. "Maybe over time it would have made you immune, but you got bit so quickly…it must be pretty powerful to keep you in a coma like that."

"Then how did I wake up? Did the drug wear off?" she asked.

"I don't know. Makes me glad I ordered some protective gear." Derek led them to a crate he had picked up that morning from an older werewolf who had fought in two wars. It contained numerous outfits made of a strange material…incredibly tough and thick, but still flexible.

"These won't stop bullets, but if they shoot darts full of that compound at us, this will likely stop them from piercing our skin. Hands, neck and head will be your only vulnerable spots. I ordered larger sizes to accommodate the shift. Everyone find one that fits in your Beta state."

When Lydia reached for one, Derek stopped her hand.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked.

"Listen, Fonzie. Or should I say Fozzie? Your hand either comes off my wrist, or it comes off yours. Your choice. You aren't my Alpha, and I have a score to settle with those Argents too."

Derek looked at her, and slowly smirked.

"I was going to tell you, the girls crate is over there. Unless you like to dress in boys clothes." He removed his hand.

"Depends on my mood." She and Allison went over to inspect the other crate.

All Stiles could think of was that Lydia looked hot in military gear. Allison offered her a choice of weapons, but when Lydia turned yellowed eyes on her, Allison quickly found something else to talk about. Scott received a hug from her, and Jackson a cool stare. Her sharp eyes noticed how many times his own flicked over to watch Derek, and how many times Derek returned the glance.

"Well, at least I know what I said to you in the hospital wasn't an empty threat." She said in an aside to Stiles.

"Hmmmm?" he said, struggling into his oversize gear. The girl's at least had buttons.

"Nevermind." She leaned over, and with one vicious yank pulled his head through the opening it was struggling to emerge from, and pushed him against a nearby tree.

"You and I will finish this mission, and survive the night. Is that understood?" she growled. Her black polished claws slid over the protective jacket with the sound of a zipper opening.

Being a werewolf certainly lent an aggressive edge to her bossiness it seemed.

"Yes, ma'am." Said Stiles. Lydia smiled beatifically.

"Good boy." Then she leaned in, placed her lips on his, and gave him the best reason for living of all.

Even Derek turned away, though some of the boys cheered. Five minutes later, the cheering ended. Ten minutes after that, the kiss ended. Matching yellow eyes stared into each other, and it was even odds whether the passion of the humans or the wolves inside them was greater.

"Get a room." Said Danny, cheerfully.

It was an hour to moonrise when they piled into a large black van that Derek acquired that morning on his shopping trip. The sun was already halfway below the horizon, and the tenseness of the rising moon and the impending battle kept them all shifted fully for the whole trip. Not wanting to be sitting in a crowd of agitated werewolves, Allison sat up front while Scott drove, crossbow and quiver full of high-tech arrows in hand. Derek and Jackson sat next to each other, each looking like they wanted to comfort the other, touch the other…anything…but still a small space separated them. That would have to wait until tomorrow, if there was a tomorrow.

They arrived just as the edge of the moon was beginning to peek up, parking a half-mile away on a little dirt road of the main highway. They would head in on foot from there. The plan was to encircle the plant starting from a few hundred yards outside of the fence, and then close in, using their hyper alert senses to detect the presence of patrolling guards, who would be taken out one by one. When the area beyond the fence was clear, they would do the same to the inner perimeter. With luck and great speed, they should be able to reach the building with none being the wiser. Allison set off to find a perch from which to provide cover fire for when they stormed the building.

Stiles left Lydia reluctantly as he traveled swiftly to his assigned position. No one was present in the dark forest aside from the group. He moved in towards the fence, when an almost inaudible ringing sound suddenly ramped up its frequency a tiny bit. Startled, he stepped back. The sound returned to its previous level. A series of distant explosions told him what he had figured out only a second before. Proximity mines. So much for surprise. He fled towards the noise, and heard other wolves doing likewise. The mines were in a 30 foot radius of the fence, and the loping wolves stayed out of the danger area as they raced to their brother. It was Jackson. He was fully human and unconscious. A tight cloud of odorless gas hung in the area. Great, an airborne delivery system delivered by mine. Three of the young wolves had to hold Derek back from rushing into the cloud to get Jackson, a frantic look on his face. His eyes burned, and his body began to twist into the Alpha shape, the boys struggling to hold on to him. A huge searchlight came on, followed by a strident alarm that could quite possibly be heard back at Beacon Hills.

Stiles got his attention. "We have to leave him, Derek. The surprise element is blown, and it is broad freaking daylight here. I can already smell people coming." Stiles hissed

A gunshot like noise, and the light was extinguished as the bulb exploded. Thank you Allison! Stiles thought, before other spotlights spaced around the fence began burn. Derek relented, and motioned them to flee to the woods beyond the reach of the light. Leaping up into the thick canopy, they watched as five human figures emerged from the woods. The group heard the telltale click of automatic weapons. Stiles wondered if they had loaded their guns with silver bullets.

"Damn, worked just like Doc Freeman said it would. Look at him, nothing but a cub."

Through the wolf's night vision, Stiles saw one of the men kick Jackson's body savagely, likely cracking ribs. Stiles did not know how Derek managed to control himself.

"Told you I'd remember you, Jackson Whitmore. There's the red-headed guinea pig they tested the serum on, and planted that transmitter Forester cooked up when she was in the hospital. Nice of them to share their plans with her so we could prepare. Seems a shame to let such a pretty face go all to waste. Come on; let's get them to the lab."

Stiles was frantic. They had Lydia too?

"When do they wake up?" asked another.

"Without the anti-dote, they don't wake up. Not until they get sold to those mercenary outfits so they could start their super soldier programs. Then they get to spend the rest of their lives infecting guerilla fighters who stick their arms into their cages."

"I don't like it, Mark. Goes against everything the family stood for."

"Tough shit. When I got thrown out of the family, they cut me off from my money. It was the the goddamned bomb, and that kid we stabbed. Guess they never heard of casualties of war. That's why I switched to Plan B. The family keeps me from getting my payback? Screw the wolves; it's the family that's going down. I am gonna flood the world with these things. The Argent name will be disgraced forever."

"And what happens to the rest of the world?" asked another.

"That's the beauty of it. We sell them the wolfs bane serum. One shot knocks out a werewolf indefinitely, and makes humans immune to the bite after a week. Once the world is full of wolves, how much do you think the governments will pay for that? I see about a billion dollars for the wolf soldiers, and then in a few years about five to ten billion for the serum to take them out. Not to mention the weapons, the mines…we will be sitting pretty on our island fortress while the whole world goes to hell. Then, maybe I'll even sell the antidote to the wolves if they can raise enough money. Some of them are richer than Midas. That should keep the bloodshed going for a few decades at least."

"Where are the rest of them?" asked the most timid sounding of the bunch. His gun hand was shaking slightly.

"Dollars to donuts they fled with their…ha ha…tails between their legs!" laughed Mark. "Let's get these two packed away for shipment. We need Hale, the Alpha. If he is still around, he'll come for them. Gunnerson! Find out what hit that light bulb; probably a bird flew into it or something, then go back and stand guard over Freeman and Forester so they don't wet themselves at being alone." The bodies were carried off by the group while Gunnerson headed over to the damaged spotlight.

Stiles, Scott, Derek and the boys came down from the trees and looked bleakly at each other. So far, everything had been a disaster. Two wolves down, and weapons that they couldn't protect themselves from.

"We failed." Derek looked tired and miserable. "You boys…find Allison and get back to the van. Get your parents, the police, anyone. I'm going in after them."

"No. We are going in to rescue our friends, Derek." said Stiles resolutely.

Derek's tired eyes flashed bright crimson. "I'm your Alpha, Stiles…"

"Um, no, I never agreed to that. Remember I was still in that coma when the other boys made their pledge, Scott told me all about it."

Derek stared at him, as if considering using force to make him comply.

Stiles set his feet. "You know how strong I am, Derek. You can probably take me, but it won't be easy. You can't just slam my head into lockers and steering wheels anymore."

"I could order the boys to do it; you'd go down fast enough."

"Really? We're going to fight each other, while those guys are busy with Lydia and Jackson? We signed on for the long haul, and we meant it. Let's go!"

"Yeah, coach. We don't run when Pack members fall." Said Scott.

Derek looked at the ten pairs of glowing yellow eyes around him. Part of him wanted to argue, and he opened his mouth to do so, when he suddenly caught sight of the full moon, now fully risen, lighting up the sky with its silver ghost-light.

Derek's eyes burned a brighter crimson than ever before. The boys followed his gaze, and their collective breath was taken away. Derek's next words were in a voice that struggled with human speech even as it devolved into a bestial growl.

"Screw the stealth shit. Tonight, we hunt as wolves, and these humans are our prey. No survivors."

Tearing the protective gear from his body, Derek gave himself over to the full fury of the Alpha, but an Alpha that his pack had never seen before. He was larger, more monstrous and more fully wolf-like on this night of all nights.

The Pack shifted too as they also discarded the gear. Their bodies were larger than mere Beta state could account for, and the gear no longer fit. The fur that covered them was thick and dark, and with painful crackling sounds their jaws lengthened. Scythe like claws danced on the ends of fingers that yearned to rip and tear the flesh of their enemies, drool ran in rivulets from mouths that hungered for human flesh.

The Alpha cracked his great jaws wide and howled his fury for all the world to hear, joined only a second later by the Pack.

The Alpha turned and leapt to the tallest tree at the perimeter of the mine field. Raking huge chunks out of the wood with his claws, he reached the topmost branch, then leapt to another about fifteen feet away. The tree swayed as it caught his weight. Another leap carried him over the fence where he landed on the hard pavement of the inner perimeter of the plant. The ten Betas landed one after the other next to him, having followed his lead. They stood in the harsh light, and faced Gunnerson, the twitchy one, who screamed in terror and dropped his gun at the sight of the legion of infuriated werewolves that had seemingly fallen from the sky.

In the next second, Allison shot out this second spotlight, to give the screaming man the courtesy of being able to meet his death under the blessing of darkness.

The Alpha shouted mental commands into the mind of each Beta, and in pairs they took off to complete their separate missions. Tim and Frank quickly scoured the inner perimeter, taking down another of Mark Argent's henchman. The man (whose name, they would never learn, was Dobbs) held onto his gun, but unwisely left the safety on in his panic. The two boys each grabbed one of his arms in their jaws and pulled them off his torso nearly simultaneously. Then Tim tackled him to the ground, and in a second had cracked open his rib cage to pull out the dripping prizes and devour them. Frank clamped his jaws on the man's face and ripped it off to be swallowed in one bite. They were never sure afterward in the frenzy of tearing claws that followed, which one of them actually ripped his throat out and put an end to his irritating screams.

Peter and Thomas located the small concrete building that housed the generator that powered the plant. In a fury, they tore and pounded at the steel door until they were able to pull it warped and screaming from its hinges. Inside they found an unexpected prize; yet another of Argent's squad, DeStefano, who having heard the noise unwisely selected this place as the safest possible hiding spot. He called out to God to save him, but on this night God had fangs.

Patrick, Brian and LeRoy tracked down the last member who had made it to the weapons store. Entering, he armed himself with an explosive gas launcher filled with the deadly serum.

Braver than his comrades (his name tag actually read Hero) he stood his ground as the three rampaging Betas moved in for the kill. Before he could pull the trigger, there was a whistling sound and a flash of pain and the gun seemed to vanish from his hands. In the last second of his life, he noticed it about ten feet away, a crossbow bolt impaling a severed finger still curled around the trigger. "Oh, shit. My hand!" he muttered, before they fell upon him. When the edible bits of him were gone and only bones remained (Paul snatched up the finger), the Betas set about their secondary mission of destroying the storehouse. A bandolier belt of conventional grenades was utilized for this purpose by having their collective pins yanked out with an inhuman claw. The explosion was hotter than the gateway to hell (due to the exotic and highly flammable weapons still inside) but by the time that happened the three were long gone.

The Alpha ripped the doors of the main plant building apart as if they were tin foil. He was followed in by Scott, Danny and Stiles. They tracked Argents scent down corridor after corridor, before finally being forced to split up; the scent was everywhere, and there were three corridors to explore plus a stairway leading upward.

Danny took the left corridor, slamming through the door at the end like a freight train. He stopped as he noticed a young man handcuffed and sitting in a locked cage. The room contained rows of computer banks and tables filled with beakers, alembics and petrie dishes. Danny shifted back far enough (God, it was hard tonight) to question him in something close to human speech.

"What are you doing here?" he growled.

Danny put one claw fingered hand around the lock on the cage and twisted. It broke off easily and he swung the cage door open wide. Danny yanked the boy out and to his feet in one swift movement. The handcuffs were pulled apart next. The boy looked up at the shifted teen and whimpered.

"Please, don't hurt me. They've had me for months. They made me do things for them. The night of the Formal, they made me drug this girl's drink. They told me I had to, or they would kill my family. Had pictures of my little brother and sisters. When I went back and told them it was done, they took me here. They did…they did experiments on me. Injected me with all of this stuff. Made me sick. I just want to go home…" The boy sank to the floor, crying. There were dark shadows under his eyes, and he looked painfully thin and malnourished.

Danny looked down impassively at him, then said: "Wait here. Don't leave this room until I come for you. I can't account for my brother's …appetite this evening… or mine for that matter." He left quickly.

Scott's trek down the center corridor led to a makeshift communications room, complete with giant television screens, radios, code encrypters and breakers. A man in a military uniform from what looked to be a South American country was even now attempting to make contact.

"Argent! Are you there? What news of these super soldiers you offered to send me? When can I expect delivery?" Scott turned toward the screen and growled, his eyes glowed a fierce yellow.

"Madre de Dios! Lobombre!" he shouted, before closing off the connection.

"Now that was naughty, young man." Scott whirled around, amazed he had not smelled this man upon entering. He sniffed, puzzled. The man was invisible, olfactorily speaking.

"My name's Freeman. You're probably wondering why you can't smell me. Another of my little inventions: it deadens the olfactory bulb as long as you inhale it." He strapped on a pair of dark goggles, and brought out a large service revolver with a silencer attached.

"Now, let's see if we can't do something about your vision as well." He flipped a switch, and the room was suddenly flooded with light to rival the brightest noonday desert sun. Scott shrieked and clutched at his eyes, flailing around and unintentionally dodging a lethal bullet sent his way a second later.

Freeman cursed and took aim, not wanting to waste the shot. Scott's ears, now his only working sense in helping him find the mad scientist, heard the minute click of the trigger and dodged again, feeling the heat of the slug as it passed by. He flailed, still growling and snarling as Freeman smirked and danced lightly about the room, supremely confident that Scott could never reach him. Freeman stepped up very close with the intention to fire the gun at point blank range.

He aimed, and then one of Scott's wildly flailing monster hands suddenly (and with exacting aim) tore into Freeman's ribcage to pull the man's heart still beating from his chest.

"You forgot to silence this. Don't worry; I'll do it for you." It was the werewolf equivalent of a Big Mac. Scott left the room smacking his lips and still rubbing at his blinded eyes.

Stiles ended up down the right hand corridor, which led into a room lined with hospital beds. Most of the beds were empty, two contained Jackson and Lydia. Stiles snarled and started forward only to hear a low whistling sound, at which he looked down to see a shiny dart protruding from his left arm.

"Doh!" muttered the young werewolf.

He felt the strength draining out of him, his legs giving out followed by numbness in his arms. He hung onto his bare thread of consciousness with every ounce of his will.

"Another Beta. Well, that's good for me. The serum doesn't work on Alphas, yet. I never had the chance to study one." A man with a lab coat that read 'Forester' tossed away a dart gun and produced the mother of all magnums.

Stiles reached one hand towards Lydia, struggling to get to her, to see her. Maybe for the last time.

"Oh, sweet on her are we? Yes, she is beautiful. I told Argent to sell her to people in the human trafficking trade with more…exotic tastes." He ran the gun slowly up Lydia's body, stopping to nudge the barrel into the delicate valley of her cleavage.

Fury filled Stiles as he watched the man lecherously gloat over Lydia's body. His fanged jaws clamped together, every muscle in his body clenched. He caught a brief glimpse of the moon through a high window, and had a despairing nonsensical impulse. 'Please. Help me save her.' he asked the ghost white orb. He gave out one enormous cheated howl as he watched the man's free hand move to undo a button. Even as he felt himself sliding into oblivion, the rage in Stiles made his eyes glow a brighter and brighter yellow…before suddenly flaring into crimson. With a wrenching that seemed to reach into his very soul, his body stretched and swelled until it took on the proportions of an Alpha werewolf. New strength flooded into his limbs, washing away the numbness like a waterfall.

Stiles stood to his new seven feet of height, over the now cowering doctor. The doc kept his composure enough to maintain the gun in its exact position rather than try to aim it at the werewolf.

"I will kill her if you so much as move. I know you are lightning fast…but I bet I'm faster. Now back away, and no one gets hurt. Although Stiles itched to rip the man to pieces (and then eat the pieces) he hesitated, then stepped back.

"Good. That's far enough. Goodnight." The gun suddenly whipped up to aim directly at Stiles' chest.

A hand with beautifully manicured and deadly claws yanked his hand away even as he fired.

"Do it and die, creep. Or…just die anyway." Lydia's fang filled jaws clamped on Foresters neck, and ripped it open in a wide spray of blood.

She spit out the chunk of flesh, looking grossed out. "That will probably go right to my thighs." She muttered.

She hopped delicately off the table and beheld without fear the enormous creature before her.

So elated was Stiles to see her all right that he shifted back to his completely human form and threw his arms around her.

"How did you fight off that smoke?" he asked.

"I never inhaled it. I saw Jackson pass out and thought it could get me inside with no trouble, where I could cause some mischief. I had some experience pretending sleep this morning…and that had worked out so well."

Stiles blushed at her words.

"So, muffin, you're an Alpha now. I like a man with ambition. Change back, and do let's see what is happening with the others."

And once again Lydia walked down the hallway with the Alpha following about six steps behind in her wake.

The gang met at about the same time near the stair leading upward. The others took in Stiles' new form without comment (except for Danny, who muttered 'I'm supposed to be the bigger brother!'). When they heard the Alpha's howl, they raced up the stairs to find their leader. Answering howls from the Pack still outside the building got closer by the second.

The moment Derek broke through the locked doors to the room at the top of the stairs, he froze upon seeing Mark Argent, casually lying on a table under an array of needles held by robotic arms and filled with variously colored chemicals.

"Hey there Wolfie. Want to play? Just give me a sec. Thanks for forcing me to do something I really didn't have the guts to do otherwise." He pressed a button, and the needles all jammed simultaneously into his skin. He screamed in pain, then began to laugh.

"Hey, what do you know? The docs were able to mix up some of the steroids with the wolfs bane serum and the blood of that freak down there! Oooohhh what's gonna happen…" Another button press and the needles released, allowing him to hop off the table. He stripped off his shirt, and the ridiculously defined muscles began to bulge even more. Argent grew taller, wider, thicker, but abstained from developing any wolfish features. When Derek was a child, he had a He-Man action figure. He thought it was ridiculous to have or even want that many muscles. Argent looked like a double size version of He-Man or…a condom packed with walnuts. One of the two.

"Let's go, puppy dog!" he growled.

The Goliath came for him.

It was a battle of colossi, the monstrously large man versus the monstrously large wolf. The wolf lunged at the thick corded neck and clamped down, but found to his surprise that he could not work his teeth through the tough flesh. He clamped harder, and was at last rewarded with a thin trickle of blood…blood that tasted foul and tainted.

A powerhouse blow caught the Alpha in the midriff, and he staggered back, broken ribs mending in roughly ten seconds due to the moon and extremity of his change.

A claw swipe that should have disemboweled the Goliath instead drew thin blood, but it still elicited a scream of rage. The two traded more blows, until it became obvious that the Goliath was winning. Whatever witch's brew the doctors had cooked up here rendered him nearly immune to damage. The Alpha threw back its head in an eerie howl.

The Goliath slammed its fists together.

"The Children of the Night! What music they make! My ass…" The Goliath lifted the Alpha over his head.

At that minute, the entire Pack burst into the room and the younger wolves threw themselves at the creature. Stiles waded in as well, and the Goliath shrieked as he dropped his prey and was subjected to eleven sets of jaws and twenty two sets of claws all working to pull him to pieces. It was difficult work. The skin refused to tear except under great duress, but tear it did when the Pack worked together. Both Alphas clamped on opposite sides of the thick neck, now whittled mostly down to the vertebrae by the insistent Betas. With tremendous force from their jaws twisting in opposite directions, there was finally a tremendous crack, and the Goliath was still.

All of them shifted back, the boys all shirtless from the excessive change, Lydia still dressed in her protective gear.

As she looked at the lot of them, half-naked and sweaty, she remarked: "This reminds me of a dream I had once-"

Derek hugged each boy and congratulated each on a job well done.

"As I told you once before, when wolves fight together, you can take down any foe, no matter-"

"We know." They muttered.

They filed down the stairs slowly. At the bottom, Danny went off to recover the boy he found, while Derek went to recover Jackson. After they put the whole building to the torch to erase all evidence of the scientific work performed here, they met up with Allison and walked back to the van. It had been a long night, though the moon now at its zenith told them there was definitely a ways to go.

The boy in the lab turned out to be a Beta (unable to shift for almost a week due to the drugs in his system) named Matthew. He had been turned by Peter Hale before Scott only to disappear (much to Peter's frustration) when he was kidnapped by the Argents radical faction.

Danny went with him to reunite him with his parents and family, and it was a joyful reunion all around. Before Danny left, Matthew asked if they could see each other again. Danny agreed, scrawled his number on a sticky note and returned to the Pack.

Stiles became such an authority on 'The Notebook' that Lydia lost all taste for the movie altogether. They argued rarely, as it was fearsome to watch…him being an Alpha, and Lydia being…Lydia. After an extensive examination, a doctor was able to find and remove the transmitter implanted by the Argents. She would never tell Stiles where it was.

Scott and Allison once more became engrossed in each other to the exclusion of all else, though when he was really needed, he always came through for them. Eventually.

The Lacrosse team (now TRULY kick-ass) never lost a game the whole time they were in High School. Each boy got athletic scholarships, which they only felt partially guilty about considering what they had saved the world from.

As for Jackson, he had taken over Lydia's bed in the hospital, in a full and irreversible coma. Derek and the Pack had scoured the building for the antidote described by Mark Argent to no avail before finally destroying it. Without it, he would never wake up. Derek sent a full report of their discoveries to Chris Argent so that he would know how closely their wayward son had come to destroying everything they held dear.

Jackson's parents appreciated Derek's loyalty to their son, and let him know (once he had informed them of the full extent of their relationship) that should Jackson awake, the couple would have their blessing.

A package arrived at the hospital for him. It was emblazoned with the Argent family crest. Inside was a single silver syringe filled with blue fluid. Derek's trembling hand lifted it out of the box. He didn't dare to hope. A note from Argent read: "This was found at one of the labs the Feds raided. My contacts got it out for me. The rest has been destroyed, so use it well. The notes stated it should take about six hours to work. Good Luck, and…"

Derek had to make his hands steady with all his concentration before he could manage to get the syringe in Jackson's IV. Then he fled the hospital, raided the local supermarket for food, cleaned up the house which had been neglected in his absence, and raced back by the time the clock had registered five hours passing.

An empty bed awaited him, next to a broken window. Derek sank to the floor, unable to comprehend how Fate contrived for him to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. No clue about his abduction could be found.

With nothing to remain there for, Derek returned for the final time to his home and pondered disabling the sprinkler system and setting the house ablaze (with or without him still inside it). He stepped into the front door, and noted that the house was completely dark. There were lights on when he left. He looked up in shock at the voice that came from the top of the stairs.

"Once again, I think it's my turn to get what I want." said a revived Jackson. Then he leapt down the full flight of stairs, landed heavily in front of Derek and stood slowly wearing only a pair of loose boxers. The sheer hunger on Jackson's face made a startled Derek back into the closed front door. Jackson leaned in close, smiled as his eyes took on a familiar yellow glow, and lunged forward before suddenly stopping.

"Are you really sure you want to ruin that shirt and jacket?" he asked.

"You serious?" asked Derek.

"You will be going through a lot of clothes, Derek." Jackson slid a clawed hand down Derek's t- shirt.

Derek smiled, getting into the game. He hung his jacket on a chair and pulled the shirt over his head.

"Aren't those designer jeans? And the shoes are $500 at least." Derek dutifully kicked off the shoes and nimbly stripped off the jeans.

He saw Jackson about to speak again and removed the socks. Only a pair of black Calvin Kleins protected his dignity.

"Go ahead, Derek, nothing I haven't seen before."

"You haven't seen this before." muttered Derek.

"You're deviating from the script." Jackson teased.

"Let's go both at the same time." offered Derek.

"Deal."

They did so, and spent several minutes in mute contemplation of each other's perfection. Then Derek took a suddenly trembling Jackson by the hand, and led him up the stairs to the master bedroom. As they lay on the bed and entwined themselves into each other, they leaned in as one for a kiss that they sincerely hoped would never have to end.