Consequences

I have always known the storm would come...

Listen now, my young ones

This is not a story I tell

Of midnight, moon, and sun...

- Ain't Your Fairytale, Sonata Arctica

When Scott first caught the scent of his best friend's blood tinging the air, he didn't think much of it. The human had just come crashing through a wall in his Jeep. Not to mention Stiles' new facial decorations, courtesy of Gerard, that the werewolf had noticed immediately, despite the surrounding chaos. The werewolf was going to have to ask his best friend more about those later.

Isaac hadn't even picked up on the odor, far too distracted and not as familiar with Stiles' scent as the boy's surrogate brother.

It was Derek, surprisingly, who happened to catch the new metallic taste that didn't belong to Jackson or Gerard or anyone else that had just been involved in the fight. With a single lifted brow, Derek eyed the human. His brow, and the rest of his face, dropped as he watched the thin dark liquid drip from the boy's nostril. The scent was far too strong to just be caused by a simple nosebleed. Stiles didn't seem to notice the streak that curved over his lips. In fact, the kid didn't seem to be aware of much of anything around him. The teenager's eyes had gone glassy and distant. Stiles' lids were already drooping when the boy's body suddenly did the same.

The Alpha was behind him in an instant, saving Stiles from a harsh meet and greet with the concrete.

"Stiles!"

Scott didn't hesitate as he moved and gripped his friend's shoulder, helping Derek lower the newly limp body to the floor.

"What the hell happened?" Scott gaped down at his friend and then up at Derek.

"Does it look like I know?" Derek barked, lifting the boy's shirt and checking for any sign of injury.

There was nothing visibly fatal. No claw marks or glass or shrapnel from the Jeep.

"Do you smell that?" Isaac leaned over them, nostrils now flaring.

"It's blood," Derek ran a hand along the kid's back, finding merely a few tender spots. "Stiles' blood."

"How did he get these?" Derek pointed at the disturbing array of colors painted across Stiles' rib cage.

"He – he was missing," Scott stammered, "after the game. His dad texted me. Said Stiles told him some kids from the other team beat him up."

"And you believed him?" Derek fixed the werewolf with an accusing glare.

"We were sort of in the middle of all this!" Scott shot back, waving his hands. "He's my best friend! I was a bit busy being happy he was alive."

"He was upset."

All eyes turned curiously and attentively to Lydia. The girl was still clinging to the newly reborn Jackson, but she managed to assertively pull him forward with her toward Stiles and the others.

"I've never seen him like that. He got angry with me when I said I was going to come help. He said that what was done to him wasn't done to hurt him. I don't think he meant to tell me."

"It was Gerard."

Again, all the attention of the room's occupants turned together. This time, Chris took the stage.

"What?" Scott leapt up toward the man. "You knew?"

"No," Chris shook his head, "not entirely. But the Sheriff's son goes missing right after Gerard puts his endgame into motion? It's not a difficult leap. His disappearance was probably meant to distract you. Throw you off balance. Or maybe he was just a sadistic bastard all along. Ask your pack."

"My pack?" Derek asked dangerously.

"Erica and Boyd." Allison swallowed. "We – captured – them. Gerard had them locked up in the basement."

If looks could kill, the glare Derek pierced the girl with right then would have had her keeling over on the spot, and then again for good measure.

"I let them go," Chris assured the Alpha. "But if Gerard took Stiles, he would have had to bring him down there. He knew I would never condone kidnapping a human, especially a kid."

"No, just innocent teenage werewolves," Derek bit back.

"Excuse me," Lydia stepped forward purposefully, "you guys can argue or, hey, kill each other, another time. Right now, you're wasting time. Stiles' time. So both of you can shut up now and hash out the details – or each others' necks – later. Right now, someone is going to call an ambulance."

"Ambulance?" Scott turned on her. "You think he needs a hospital?"

"I don't think," she pursed her lips, "I know."

She waited until Scott finally pulled out his cell phone and dialed his mother.

"I'd guess head wound, and you said you smelled his blood. He's probably bleeding internally, possibly with a cerebral hemorrhage. So no one moves him. If his father already thinks he was beaten up, we can say he was driving and passed out, crashing his Jeep. I was with him because I was upset about Jackson. Jackson, you need to go back to the hospital -"

"What? No -"

"Not done talking, and don't argue. You came back from the dead. Don't think your dad isn't going to have a field day with those doctors when you wake up confused in a body bag. Peter, you'll go with him. You know all about miraculous recoveries and lying."

"Do you really think that I'm -"

"I think that you attacked and bit me, and then proceeded to haunt me. Tormenting, tricking and threatening me until I was drugging my own birthday punch. And if it wasn't for me you'd still be rotting underneath that house. Psychotic werewolf or not, you owe me this much."

Lydia had spun on her heel to practically go nose to nose with the former Alpha.

"Just do it." Derek nodded to interrupt the comment that was about to come spewing from his uncle's hanging open mouth. "Tell Jackson what to do and say, but stay out of sight. Scott, Isaac, go and find Boyd and Erica."

"But Stiles -" Scott moved instinctively closer to his friend.

"Will be better helped if the doctors know exactly what happened to him and right now, the only people who know that are Erica and Boyd." Chris agreed. "My father kept many tools for hurting werewolves. I don't want to know the damage they could do to a human."

Everyone was silent at that.

"Allison, Derek, and I will sweep the building for Gerard and clear out before anyone sees us, but not before we know Lydia and Stiles are safe. I'm not about to leave my daughter's best friend alone in some warehouse in the middle of the night."

Lydia nodded her thanks to the man. With a parting kiss to Jackson, she knelt beside her friend, silently taking his hand. Scott hesitated, pained eyes flickering over his brother's still form.

"Go," Lydia urged, blinking watery eyes at him.

With Isaac's gently pushing hand on his shoulder, Scott finally followed the others out of the warehouse.

"Come on, Stiles," Lydia breathed out slowly, once the pair were alone. "Without you, my only intellectual competition is Danny. It's no fun being number one in class if you're leagues ahead of everyone else. Besides, I still have to yell at you for keeping all of this from me. Did you honestly think I couldn't handle it? Seriously. I deserve higher expectations than that. I survived breaking up with Jackson. I survived being bitten by Peter. I think I can mentally handle the concept of werewolves. And speaking of, you know, Peter, he told me, you know? Well, more like teased me. I thought it was Jackson who found me. But it was you. You stupidly stood up against that monster for me when I hadn't even ever spared you a second of my attention. He could have killed you. Just like Allison's psycho grandfather could have killed you. You're a good friend, Stiles. Too good. So you have to be okay. For me. For Scott. I'm not really sure he can survive without you to keep him from tripping over himself every ten seconds. Of course, you do that by tripping over yourself."

Lydia paused as the sound of sirens filling the night silence. She straightened and fixed her eyes on the door. Glancing down at Stiles, the girl sent out a silent plea.