Stiles's head rang with massive pangs every few seconds. The last thing he remembered was running down a hallway away from an incredibly angry werewolf. With the image of the giant creature baring fangs at Lydia, there was only option for Stiles. Without thinking, he had yelled and screamed, waved his arms frantically and ran towards it. Jackson chased him, but it didn't take long for the distance to be covered and the last thing he thought before going under was hoping she had gotten away. Expecting that to be it, to be the end, Stiles tried his best to reach out to Lydia like he'd done before unknowingly but there wasn't anything to grab onto. Instead, his head hit something cold and hard and then he woke up in a pitch black room without any distinguishable characteristics.

He could move, but his muscles and head ached so much it was worthless trying to get up. The pain in his back was acting up again and the sharp slicing sensation flitted over him once again. Everything hurt, and his head wasn't making things any better. His eyes crossed a few times and the fact that he'd given himself a concussion was slowly dawning on him. He needed to get out and away but he was so incapacitated that he didn't know if it was even a possibility. He would have to hope the pack would find him. Wherever 'here' was, he thought.

His eyes were starting to grow accustomed to the light, struggling to make sense of his surroundings as the inside of his head rattled some more. The walls were cracked, the floor covered in shriveled pieces of carpet, and no light seemed to be allowed into the room. None was coming from under the threshold of the door, there weren't any windows, and then it became clear what it was - a cell. Whatever was outside didn't matter, it just needed to be somewhere he could expect help from.

Then Stiles took a deep breath, trying to think of anything that would help him get out. His phone was dead and asking his captor for a charger didn't seem like the start of any brilliant escape, windows weren't an option seeing as there weren't any, and the uncovered floor felt like hard stone. Shaking off the pains in the entire upper portion of his body he stood up, feeling around to keep his balance. No matter where he pushed, pressed up against, or beat the walls weren't going anywhere. All that he got from his efforts was a bloody hand and another stinging sensation. For whatever reason Jackson decided his best place was in here, and that made his skin crawl wondering why he was left alone and not immediately killed.

Why am I here in the first place?

He was confused by that and tried to piece together the possibilities. Jackson was clearly out of it in one way or another, that much he could figure out, but what was his endgame here? He wasn't up to the task of taking on Scott if their last encounter was anything to go by, and this time they weren't going to be nearly as unprepared. There had to be a motive that required Scott not interfering. Stiles put his head in his hands. The factors in this problem were starting to fall into place, but some of them were just unclear. Jackson had to be able to do whatever it was despite anyone interfering, if he was thinking rationally at all. And it was just Stiles this time .He had taken Derek and Peter last time, but now it was just Stiles. Something was significant about that, but it wasn't coming to him. What was he planning on doing that required either a pair of werewolves or one Stiles? He pounded on his forehead with the fleshy part of his palm, hoping to re-rattle his brain into understanding what was going on.

It just doesn't make sense.

"Doesn't it?"

A faint voice interrupted his thoughts, causing him to jump back onto the small bed and look around the room. The dead air and black carpets were still there, but no one had made themselves known to him. Shaking his head, he tried to think if anything Deaton had said was at all pertinent to the situation. nothing was coming to mind. Nothing about this made any sense to him, and it was getting more infuriating by the second.

"What, you thought it would be easy did you?" The voice said, this time a hint of humor in it.

This time he stood up, his heart beating faster with the pressure on his back and faint ringing still in his head. Pushing at the door, looking under the bed and even the carpets, still there was no one.

"H-hello?" He asked to no one, his voice bouncing around the room and echoing just the slightest.

"You don't have to speak, Stiles. Don't you get it yet?" It repeated and this time Stiles noticed that there weren't any reverberations like when he talked out loud.

Hello?

"Hello Stiles," it answered his thoughts.

It answered his thoughts.

There were eight of them crammed into Deaton's clinic. Despite the Argents' arguments, Scott and Lydia had decided that meeting with Deaton was the best option. After that it was relatively easy, since all of them were willing to walk on eggshells for this situation. Chris didn't really know him, and Allison was always tangentially aware of Stiles at best, but that was no excuse for risking his life. In combination with what little they already knew, the group wanted to see if there was anything specific they could use against Jackson.

"We can try the sonic emitters, but I don't know how he'll react to them in his current state," Chris said, "He might just shrug it off for all we know, and the frequencies we used to bring those other two around last year might just put Scott out of the game."

"What did you see, what did you feel about Jackson, Scott?" Deaton asked, "Was there anything different about his scent?"

After a moment of thought, Scott shook his head.

"I- I don't know," he stammered.

"Anything can help," the vet reminded him.

Scott tried to remember the scent in the hospital and the night they rescued Derek and Peter. There was definitely something different about it, but he had just chalked it up to the difference between a Beta and Omega. Usually a Beta smelled familiar, like something he connected them to. Derek smelled like blood and dried leaves mixed together, probably because of the night he killed Peter. Isaac smelled so familiar it took him a solid month to figure it out - it was his house and his mother. Isaac was family now and his senses had already established that. Stiles was Stiles and he couldn't even identify the exact scent other than "unique" and one he could pick out anywhere, while Lydia absolutely reeked of a library. Sometimes he wondered if he should tell her that, but now wasn't the time. Allison was... different. He didn't have that connected smell or concept, it was just a feeling.

Jackson smelled like death, but that wasn't the only thing. The few whiffs he got of the wolf made him swallow instinctively and his insides quivered - it wasn't something he liked, whatever it was. Now, with Deaton's questions, it started to come back to him. It was the smell of Nemeton, or rather the white place he'd been in with Allison and Stiles. He told Deaton this, who responded by widening his eyes and scratching at his bottom lip.

"What? What does that mean?" Lydia piped up, interrupting the prolonged silence.

The worry in Lydia's voice was apparent and the way she looked back and forth between Deaton and him made Scott's shoulders tighten instinctively. He'd seen the two of them grow closer over the past year and part of him was the best friend that wanted to high five Stiles and the other was the Scott that knew firsthand what happened when someone you loved was suddenly no longer there for you. It tore him up, and it was doing the same to her now. Lydia was usually more reserved than this, in fact the only time Scott remembered seeing her like this was when they were on the verge of discovering that Jackson had been part of the kanema killings.

"Jackson's already been influenced by powers like this before," Deaton spoke up, "Influencing him should be harder now that he's capable of willingly changing. If Scott's right here, then we're dealing with something more than just a pissed off werewolf."

"Like what?" Isaac asked, crossing his arms and looking incredulous.

"Like something that can possess you without having to inhabit your body," He met Isaac's stare pound-for-pound.

There was a brief silence where the remaining few exchanged looks.

"What, a demon?" Peter asked, chuckling.

"A demon has to inhabit the body, weren't you listening?" Deaton answered forcefully and Peter gave a smug looking Derek a brief glance before stopping his laughter, "No. This is someone who can convince Jackson to do something against purely through force of will, and via the supernatural energies that the Nemeton is naturally giving off now."

"So... it's another druid?" Lydia asked.

"No..." He started.

"What is it then? We're wasting time here," Scott half-shouted his question. He was getting tired of Deaton's game now and wanted the answer. The older man looked slightly annoyed but nodded sharply and quickened his pace.

"It's a warlock. Magic, and not this alchemy and powder he can tinker with. It's for real, dangerous magic," Derek said solemnly, "I'd heard about it a few times but never anyone strong enough to manipulate a werewolf we're-"

"Usually too well-guarded by a strong Alpha," Deaton interrupted. Chris started to laugh a little and shook his head, sighing.

"So now it's magic? Look, we can help with a wolf but I have no idea what to do with a freakin' wizard." He rubbed his chin and shook his head, looking to the rest of them for support or answers.

Scott looked to Isaac and Derek, who both nodded. He didn't have to even ask Lydia, and Peter was going if only to be extra muscle and keep his mouth shut. The only ones they had to convince was Chris, just to have an easier way to deal with Jackson. That gave Scott another thought.

"So can this guy make Jackson stronger, better, anything that could screw this up?" He asked, hoping that a good answer would come for once.

"Honestly, I don't know. Maybe. Probably, but it's all guesswork," Deaton responded before looking sadly to the redhead nervously pacing between what little room was given her, "But I wouldn't recommend Lydia going."

Scott felt the hairs stand up on his arms and could feel Derek's heart speed up in response to that sentence. He squinted, waiting for the worst. He just hoped Isaac would have the forethought to get out of her path in case anything happened in the last few seconds that Deaton had before getting reamed out. Instead of a hellstorm of shouting and arguing, the girl sadly nodded while biting her trembling bottom lip.

"I a-agree," she sniffed. Giving her a questioning look, Lydia turned to Scott and wiped at her eyes. Whatever it was he could feel the conflict between her heart and mind in that moment.

"If it can affect Jackson like this, who knows what it can do to you - to us." She looked down for a second and raised her widening eyes before trailing off, "Who knows what it's doing to Stiles right now..."

Deaton nodded in answer.

"So what can we do. How do we stop something that can... do whatever it wants with Stiles?" Allison piped up for the first time, previously focused on something apparently incredibly interesting on the tiled floor. She was now trying to comfort Lydia, who was slowly regaining her composure after almost falling apart at realizing she would have to wait.

There wasn't any reply to Allison's question. The silence was driving Scott insane, but he needed to focus. There had to be a way to do this without bloodshed. There had to be a way, right? They hadn't exactly exhausted their options, but magic was a hard enemy to combat reasonably, especially without any real knowledge of what this thing could do to any of them. Still, the cost of inaction was way too high. They had to solve this problem, but it was slowly dawning on Scott that there was a high probability of this costing more blood than that. A single werewolf he could handle, especially with friends and backup, but what could they do against something like this? He didn't like Jackson, but the price was still too high. But it was Stiles. Stilesi. He'd already told himself that nothing would stop him, but what would he do if the only thing between him and Stiles was a body? Luckily he didn't have to answer that question because Chris spoke up again.

"Allison and I can handle Jackson without the emitters, and you guys can go in and get Stiles," he offered.

"I'm going with you," Isaac said to Allison, ignoring her father who sighed but nodded after a moment's consideration.

"All right, we could use more muscle anyways. Just in case, right?" He added, smirking at Scott's likely obvious annoyance at Isaac jumping to join them, "This leaves Scott, Derek, and Peter to get in and do whatever has to be done to get him out."

"So I have to play babysitter, huh?" Peter started to laugh, but the sound of his breath barely escaped his lips before Lydia wrenched herself from Allison's hands and stood in front of him. The previously sad but accepting look was replaced with a fury that Scott never wanted directed at him. The clack of heels rang through the small room as she stepped up to look Peter face to face, not averting her eyes or keeping her distance like she usually did around him.

"I'm tired of your attitude, I'm tired of you," she yelled, "What are you even here for? You're just muscle to us, you know that? You're fucking worthless without us. Without Scott you're just a little shit that can't even overpower an Omega."

Peter visibly recoiled, looking away from the girl he towered over and could easily kill in less than a heartbeat without a moment's thought. Derek rolled his lips and turned away, obviously trying not to laugh in case Lydia misconstrued it. He was likely also a bit embarrassed about the getting-kidnapped-by-Jackson scenario, but was clearly too amused to care. Scott even could feel his mouth flirt with the idea of smirking before dying down. Even in this small way, Lydia was standing up to something that had previously haunted her. It was a small victory, but seeing Peter deflate in the presence of the whole pack might have been worth it after all.

"Now that we know who wears the pants, let's go get Stilinski shall we?" Peter stuttered before lowering his head and pivoting, quickly turning to leave the clinic.

Screaming. Shouting, the whispers of the trees... the voices of the dead still feeding the worms beneath them .Everything was clear to him. The footsteps of ten thousand ants, the perilous breaths of a dog finding a rabbit somewhere miles away, and the voices of his conspirators were all in the air. Alongside these were the screams of the young boy in the basement below, filling his ears with pleasantries that nothing in the woods was able to. It was all so perfect, so beautiful. The poor, stupid Omega had been foolish enough to accept his bargain after he had inflicted those nightmares on him for weeks. The torment was enjoyable for a month or so, but after that it began to be so dull and rote. Always about how his adoptive parents never loved him and a thousand other bland "terrors" that he had to find something better.

When the child changed, it was clear to him what he could use him for. There were few hunters better than this Jackson's kind, and it left him capability to hide and stay away from the physical acts. He never really had much of a thing for acting the killing out himself. It was always a little too messy. Better to have someone to do his wet work, he always thought.

After a few seconds of everyone gathering themselves from the scene between Peter and Lydia, the group made to exit the clinic. Deaton wished Scott good luck briefly before motioning for Lydia to sit down. After standing up to her own personal nightmare she was remarkably stoic and reserved. Scott smiled at Lydia and gave her a quick, reassuring hug before starting to follow the rest as they left as well. Pushing past the small double-door fixture that led into the offices, he started out of the clinic before he heard someone quietly say his name. He stopped but didn't turn around. Lydia was doing so well just moments ago that seeing her possibly come apart wasn't going to help things.

"Scott," she sounded like she was pleading with him more than anything, "Get him back. For me. Please."

He turned his head just far enough for her to hear him clearly.

"Yeah," he barely breathed in reply.

Stiles could feel those cold hands reach inside his head again, at first gently touching the beating center of his mind before gripping at the veins and pulling in every direction. The shifting left massive holes for the black smoke to pour through him and take hold when the hands left. Life had been great without their poking and prodding, but now that ribbing had exploded into shoving and twisting. Every thought that went through his head flew immediately to them only to be chewed on and spat back up.

He tried to think of Lydia, but the only thing that he could concretely visualize was every time he had worked up the courage to ask her out in his early teens. The aftermath and cruelty by his classmates was always easy to deal with - hell, he did it every single day. No, seeing the look in her eyes was what did it: she looked past him when he asked, and when she did it was like he was so far beneath her graces that even granting him the ability to speak to her should have been enough let alone what he was asking. He tried to think of hanging out with Scott, the times they just sat around and played video games when they were kids but he only saw Scott making out with Lydia over and over again. Even memories of his dad and mom always returned to something horrible that pushed him further back into his mind where the black laughter waited for him.

Time had lost its meaning for Stiles, even if it had to have been only a few hours, logically. No light and the cackling of the living dead in his very being was slowly pulling him apart from the inside. All he had left was to find them, to follow the hideous laughter; to meet them and hopefully bury them once and for all.

They met him with open arms.

A/N: I'm not gonna lie, I actually enjoyed this chapter. I never say that about my own work, but I hope you guys agree! If so, and even if not, it'd be absolutely wonderful if you left a review for me. I want whatever negatives you can find and the positives. Even if you don't I'm overjoyed that you took the time to read all of this story...

Oh God, I always elicit the "IS THIS THE LAST CHAPTER?!" comments when I say something like that don't I? Clearly it's not, but hey you'd be surprised folks. There's still... some after this, but I won't spoil that for you ;)

As always, I don't own Teen Wolf and I ain't no Jeff Davis no matter my damnedest.