A/N: Hey all, sorry for the long absence. I left you guys high and dry. I can only say that things happen in life that are beyond our control, and the last few months have not been fun for me. I wanted to finish this because when I sat down and opened my email, there were about two dozen letters demanding I finish under pain of death. I actually had to read the whole thing over again to get back into this frame of mind…and its almost twenty pages long. The end is a bit clipped because I'm exhausted but I hope you enjoy anyway. Reviews are always appreciated, but keep in mind I just wanted to get this up (and put goat-dude to rest before I go to sleep tonight) and have not done my own editing yet. I want to finish my other two stories, and was hoping to do so before the Season 2 premiere (who's gonna be reading fanfiction when the actual show is on?) but not sure that will happen.

As they mounted the steps, they felt the house sway beneath their feet as if they were on the hundredth floor instead of merely the fourth. All of them were sure that if they looked out the window, they would see the ground plummeting away from them as Pheer House grew into the sky like some antebellum Tower of Babel. Their legs wobbled, and they grabbed at walls and bannisters to steady themselves. When they saw the thing approaching them, they screamed fearing it was some phantasm of the house, or perhaps the Goat-man himself, come to face them at last. When he drew closer, they recognized him and Derek felt a bolt of pure icy despair stab right into his heart.

"Stiles…" he whispered.

"Stiles isn't here anymore." the thing responded.

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The foreman shook his crackling cell phone. He couldn't be sure of what he had just heard through the static.

"Mr. Whittemore…are you sure about this?" If the foreman were hearing this from anyone else, he wouldn't have believed it.

"Yes, I'm sure. When I give the signal, start the demolition. My son is here with me, and he tells me that his friends are not on the property. As soon as you receive the text, I want you to send the wrecking ball right through the top of the house. Am I understood?"

"Yes Sir. I'll get everyone in position." The connection went dead. Bizarrely, the phone was now registering the "no service" warning. He rubbed his face with his hands, getting the strangest feeling that there was something very wrong going on here.

{}{}{}{}

Stiles, or the thing he had become, grinned sickeningly at Derek as he approached.

The blackened eye (which had begun to sport a red catlike iris) glared at him malevolently, while the amber wolf's eye bore an almost human expression of longing. Before Derek got within three feet of Stiles, a hook-clawed finger waggled a warning at him.

"Not a good idea. I'm not completely myself. I might…do…anything. I know that if I were in my right mind, I would never want to hurt you. I know that…but I no longer feel it, if you get my drift."

"Stiles, I can help you. I can…" Derek fell quiet as Stiles growled…an utterly inhuman (and un-wolflike) growl.

"Helping me would be a very bad idea. I NEED THIS…to get the monster that trapped us here. Otherwise, none of us is going home. You need to take all of that over-protective Alpha crap and throw it out a window if you expect us to survive. You can't save me if you want to save your Pack. This is it, Derek. The choice you never wanted to make…your worst fear, if you will. I need you to promise me you will let me do what I need to do…even if it kills me. Do I have your word? You'll need to make the Oath I read about in Eowin Radcliffe's book…the Oath no werewolf can break."

Derek never looked or felt so helpless and trapped in all of his life. Being chained to Kate Argent's torture machine was like running naked though a sunny meadow in comparison. The Pack looked at him expectantly (none more intensely than Nega-Scott), but Derek looked right at Lydia. He couldn't make this decision by himself. Stella, occupying Lydia's body, knew what Derek was asking her with that look. In answer, she nodded her head slowly. He looked surprised, and she couldn't blame him…but she was not agreeing for the reason he thought she was.

"I swear then. Until we escape from this house, I promise I won't try to stop you or save you…I swear on the Father of all Wolves." He whispered. The Pack sighed, knowing what it cost him to give that oath.

Stiles looked at him sadly. "Until we escape from this house." he agreed. "But before I fight it, we have to get to the next floor. Spread out; try every door you can until you find the stairway up. Whatever you do, don't go through a door that leads to rooms on the lower floors. By shifting the house around, it can keep us here indefinitely…it wants to kill me before I can get to it."

Danny spoke up. "Stiles…what do you think your chances are? Can you beat it?"

Stiles considered. "I've only ever faced its spirit forms…never in the flesh. It will be a thousand times tougher…the wolf may just give me the edge I need."

Nega-Scott came fully awake at that moment.

"Stiles…I want to help you. I'll gladly give my life…"

Stiles shook his head. "You may be an Alpha, but that's no use here. The wolf only gives me strength because it enhances whatever supernatural powers the goat-thing passed down to me…those powers are the only way to fight it. I won't know if the wolf strengthened them enough until I fight the damned thing. All you have are teeth and claws, and they will only do so much. Crude weapons they are, when you think about it. There is nothing else you can do, Scott."

Scott looked like he had just been kicked in the stomach.

"But Stiles…you don't understand, I have to…I have to die for you-"

"YOUR DEATH IS USELESS TO ME!"Stiles roared in a sudden fury. The house seemed to tremble under the force of his rage. Cracks tore open in the walls and floor, and ran straight up to the ceiling. The structure groaned as two opposing powers sought to warp the laws of space-time within it. Stiles, or the creature he had become, suddenly looked up to the cracked ceiling and grinned. It was a hideous sight.

"GOT YOU!" he shouted. Stiles leapt upward, his hooked claws anchoring him to the ceiling. Slamming his wolf fist repeatedly into the crack, he forced open a large hole…that quickly began to seal itself back up again, faster than he could make keep it open. He threw down a malevolent glance at the Pack.

"Um, a little help here, guys?" he said in an almost normal tone of voice.

The Pack looked at each other. Jackson knelt and Lydia got on his shoulders, letting her reach the ceiling and begin to help Stiles rip it open. Allison took over caring for Scott while Ted climbed on of Danny and began doing the same. With the three working together, they made a bit more headway…but the house merely increased the speed of its recovery.

The six werewolves growled in frustration while they continued their efforts. There was a pile of plaster, drywall and nail-studded wood framing on the floor that was getting higher by the minute. Derek felt a tap on his shoulder and saw Nega-Scott (looking almost completely sane) giving him a wink. He pointed at Derek and then himself. Understanding suddenly dawned and Derek gave the doppelganger of his head Beta a slight grin.

"Shall we show them how it's done?" Nega-Scott asked.

"You're willing to team up with me?" Despite the fact that their time was running out, Derek had to know.

"You…you aren't the one who killed him. I'd kill your double again in a second…but I saw what it cost you to make that oath just now. I don't think even Stiles realizes. Besides, for all his power, he's still a Beta. I want to show him what 'crude weapons' can really do." Looking up, he shouted "Get that hole open as wide as you can!"

The two Alphas began to shift, the glowing red eyes preceding the wrenching transformation into lupine powerhouses of strength and fury. The clothing shredded off their bodies as the twisting change ran through them. When it was complete, they stood side by side for a moment, panting heavily. Derek then laced his clawed hands together, kneeling on the floor. Scott ran up and used the 'step' Derek made (with all of Derek's strength behind it) to leap upwards and smash through the ceiling like a werewolf cannonball. The ceiling vaporized into a five-foot wide hole that Derek immediately leapt upward through, followed by Stiles. Once safely on the higher floor, the three worked to keep the hole open while the rest of the Pack came through. Lydia clambered up and reached down to yank Jackson after her. Once on top, they joined the Alphas at keeping the hole opened and were able to halt the sealing of the ceiling completely. Ted climbed through next and gestured for Allison and Danny to pass up the unconscious Scott, following right after. When they were all safely on the fifth floor, they ceased their efforts and watched the hole close itself.

"Awesome!" Stiles breathed excitedly, in his human voice.

{}{}{}{}

"Get ready! Very soon now!" called the foreman as he gave the signal to the wrecking ball operator, who activated the machine to send the ball swinging in ever-widening arcs. At the right moment, a small adjustment to the main lever would alter the trajectory of the swing and destroy Pheer House. Personally, the operator couldn't wait. He always hated the place.

{}{}{}{}

The hall led to a stairway at one end, the bottom of which was now blocked with debris from the destroyed fourth floor ceiling, while the other end contained only a single door. They walked slowly towards the door, Stiles in the lead. Scott and Derek had changed back, salvaging as much of their modesty as possible by wrapping the remains of their clothes around their waists. Having been werewolves for so long, the Pack were well used to this problem and none paid any mind…though perhaps Danny and Ted glanced at them for a second or two longer than the others.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." Derek growled at them, without turning around.

Opening the door, the Pack gasped collectively. Any pleasant mood elevation Danny and Ted might have enjoyed in the last few seconds vanished as they took in the shattered remains of Nega-Danny and Nega-Ted lying in and around the four poster bed. They promptly turned away, their stomachs heaving as the world seemed to spin around them.

"Oh my God…that's…that's us…oh sweet Christ, that's us!" moaned Danny. Ted was speechless, and the rest of the Pack could not bear to look for more than a moment. Only Stiles seemed unmoved, though his eyes seemed to burn more intensely than ever. He focused his gaze on the door to the closet. It was like nothing they had ever seen before. It was glistening with a coating of dark red paint…or what they hoped was paint. Hideous images, faces of monsters and goblins of every sort littered its surface…not one of them failed to recognize a particular creature that had once chased them through the shadowed halls of their dreams. Morlocks, zombies, vampires, mummies, evil doll-heads and fish heads with razor sharp teeth were just a few of the ones they recognized of the nearly infinite faces of fear. The door knob was the worst…a carved goat-head grinned at them, snapping its rows of teeth at them, daring them to stretch out their hands to it.

The Pack stayed well away from the door; only Stiles approached, though he was followed a moment later by Nega-Scott.

"Let me open it for you." said Scott's double.

Stiles, almost let him, despite himself. The door was that freaking impressive. "No buddy…I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who can open it."

"It will kill us, won't it?" Nega-Scott sighed almost in relief.

"Oh, try not to get a woody over it you sicko."

Stiles reached out with his right hand. The knob started snapping at him as did the nearby faces which seemed to stretch out of the wood to reach him. The goat-head knob snatched its jaws on the tender flesh between his thumb and index fingers, biting deep and holding fast. Stiles screamed and shrieked as his hand was chewed heartily. The goat-head began to get larger, its neck stretching out of the door. The screaming got louder, sounding both more human and more childlike by the moment. The pain was causing him to fear…and fear was causing him to weaken.

"ENOUGH!" Lydia screamed. She walked over and, without regard to any of the other monsters writhing in the essence of the door, she lifted her foot and slammed it right in the center, screeching "LET MY SON GO!"

There was a bright flash at the impact, and they were both thrown backwards. Nega-Scott helped Stiles to his feet…crying out of his wolfish eye.

The others let him compose himself in silence. The door seemed to melt, the faces fading away until it resembled a plain white wooden door…with a long crack running down the center.

Stiles looked up at Lydia, the tears continuing. "You aren't Lydia…and he's not Jackson."

"No. Let me give you a piece of advice: use your other hand on that door next time, Genim."

Stiles stepped towards her, and they embraced awkwardly, wracking sobs shaking his frame.

Nega-Scott was open-mouthed in wonder, and the rest of the Pack looked at each other in mixed fear and amazement. Only Derek looked grim, knowing what this must have cost her.

Stiles pulled back from Lydia, and chuckled. "My mother… in the body of a girl I lusted after for years. My shrink is gonna have a field day."

They laughed, and Stiles managed to compose himself. The pain in his hand faded to a low throb.

"Mom-" he began.

"Stiles, honey…there is absolutely no time."

He walked over to the door. "I know…just…thank you for saving my ass again. Just like with the pit bull. I love you…you were the best Mom in the world."

Stiles turned the knob with his left hand, and the door opened easily. A dark reddish tunnel stretched away before him. The walls seemed to glisten wetly for the few feet they were able to see, and the floor was a reddish/purple color. There was something familiar seeming about it, but none could pinpoint what it was. A reeking stench came from the doorway on a hot wind that made them all want to retch. Stiles stepped inside the doorway, looking around uncertainly. This was not what he had expected…he thought the goat-headed monster would be there, big as life and twice as ugly. It was Nega-Scott, perhaps because of all who were present, he had the most experience with insanity, and so was the first to recognize the danger.

"Stiles! GET BACK!" he screamed, hurling himself forward. It was too late, the ivory spears that were even now emerging from the top and bottom of the door frame were meshing together with Stiles trapped on the other side. Nega-Scott leapt through the rapidly closing jaws only to be caught partway; his legs were severed by the teeth just above the knees, his strangled scream echoing inside the cavernous maw of Kadeth. The door swung shut; in the next second, the Pack shifted as one and began beating their fists bloody against it. Only Stella and Manfred, in their borrowed bodies, held back. The final battle was joined, and none that were on this side of the door could do anything to help.

The floor began to move under them, the tongue curling around Stiles and attempting to push him towards the rear of the chamber…from which he knew there would be no return.

Nega-Scott reached out his hand desperately, to no avail. Stiles was pulled down into the mother of all long dark tunnels to meet the father of all monsters.

{}{}{}{}

He landed with a thump on the floor of the porch of Derek's home. Once it was going to be his home too, but like an idiot he selfishly tried to force Derek to confront the painful reminders of his lost family just so Stiles could relive a stupid childhood memory. Sitting there, he couldn't believe he had been so insensitive, so uncaring…and so goddamned stupid. He was lucky Derek hadn't ripped his throat out. Hearing Derek let loose one anguished and miserable shout after another from within the home ripped Stiles' heart in two. He did that. This was his fault.

Stiles looked up as Scott approached from the porch steps. It seemed bizarre that he had forgotten Scott was here too.

"What did I do, Scott? He loved me, and look what I did to him! What kind of horrible person does that to someone who loves them?" Stiles' eyes heated up as hot tears spilled down his cheek. Oddly, it seemed he was crying out of only one eye. The right one.

Scott looked down at him, his expression colder than the storm whirling around them.

"I don't know man. I thought it was a pretty fucked up thing, but I figured you knew him best. Guess this means you're out of the Pack now. We're friends man,-"

"You mean that?" Stiles asked. Scott had been his lifelong friend. How could Stiles even think-

"Let me finish, you ADD dumbass. As I was saying, we're friends, but the Pack comes first. I'm Derek's head Beta. That's even more responsibility than being co-captain of the lacrosse team! You drive everyone in the Pack nuts, so I'm going to do what Derek obviously wants me to do, and tell you to get the fuck out of all our lives."

Stiles stared at him in disbelief. Scott walked around him and knocked on the door, and was quickly admitted by Derek. Stiles listened to the voices through the door as his heart slowly turned to lead.

"I'm sorry Derek, I never should have let that little dweeb pull this stunt. I would have torn him apart if I knew what would happen."

"Oh…it doesn't matter." Derek said in a voice that went from remarkably calm to low and husky. "The important thing is that he's gone, out of my life forever. And now…I have time for more important things. Like teaching my 'head' Beta exactly how he can keep that job. Speaking of jobs…"

"Way ahead of you, Alpha."

Stiles got up and walked woodenly down the porch steps, hurrying before the moaning that was even now coming through the door could drive him insane.

The storm blew all around him, though the only coldness he felt came from within. He sobbed quietly, feeling as if his soul had been replaced with a shard of jagged glass. He followed the path away from the house, winding his way through the trees though he had no idea where he wanted to go. He saw a flash of red against the flurry of white, and his heart gave a little jump when he realized it was Lydia. She was giggling like a school girl, the sort of laugh he always wished he could hear from her, if she didn't insist on being so guarded and obnoxious all the time. He felt a stab of guilt for thinking that about her. She had her reasons; he had tried so hard to tell her once that she would never need to be that way around him. He loved the real her that she worked so hard to keep hidden from everyone else.

As he approached, he saw that she was building a snowman with two teenage boys that he almost seemed to recognize. Something about the scene gave him the creeps.

"Lydia!" he called out. She ignored him. He walked the last few steps up to her. "Lydia…Derek, um…Derek doesn't…uh man this hurts so much to say it. Lyd, he doesn't love me anymore…I think…I think he's with Scott now…"

Lydia turned to him.

"Well it's about time! Stiles, all of us could see that Scott and Derek were meant to be together! Seriously, the idea of you and Derek as a couple was so ridiculous, I had to pinch myself just to keep from laughing until I threw up. Sometimes I just wanted to get right to the throwing up part! There is not ONE SINGLE PERSON IN THE WORLD who thinks 'Stiles & Derek…yeah, I'd watch a porno with those two!'"

Stiles didn't think he could possibly feel worse than he already did. He discovered how wrong he was when the shard of glass sprouted another couple dozen lethal edges that dug into the very tenderest parts of him. He fell to his knees in the snow, barely able to move. He barely registered boys who now approached and began piling the snow up all around him. Before he realized it, he was buried up to his neck just as the terror set in.

"No! What are you guys doing? Stop it, don't bury me here, no one will find me out here-" he screamed.

"Stiles, sweetie, no one is looking!" Lydia said, her voice changing into that of another woman, long forgotten, who had once scared him half to death.

The boys dropped a mountain of snow over him, and he was trapped in the darkness.

Stiles crawled forward, finding himself in a cramped tunnel seemingly underground. The roof of the tunnel felt like solid rock instead of just a few feet of snow. Stiles progressed on his hands and knees before finally being forced to wriggle forward as he felt the immense weight of the earth around him closing in. If the tunnel got any smaller, he might be trapped here. He experimentally tried to maneuver backward only to find it impossible, as if the tunnel were shrinking behind him as well as in front. Now, having stopped, he couldn't seem to get started again, and the tears of despair were joined by those of icy terror. Stiles screamed and cried, he pounded his fist into the ground (and felt a splitting pain on the left side of his forehead as he did so). Something tugged at his memory then, but before he could grasp it, he heard a low chuckle.

Gradually, he began to make out a face in front of him. Someone was trapped in the tunnel a few feet ahead of him. The walls of the tunnel seemed to glow dimly from within, and as the shadows melted away, Stiles realized it was Jackson. And Jackson was grinning.

"Jackson? What are you doing here? Is there any way out of here?" Stiles gasped, the pressure around him keeping him from drawing a full breath. Jackson continued to grin.

"He gave it to me, Stiles. He gave me what I always wanted. Power."

Stiles stared at him, panic beginning to surge inside him.

"I-I know Derek bit you, Jackson. I know you wanted to be a werewolf." Stiles began once more to try to move backward once more, to no avail.

"Not Derek, you walking abortion! Kadeth! I wanna show you…" Jackson's voice began to get low and throaty, and an inhuman chuckle bubbled out of his throat. "…I wanna show you what I can do now!"

Jackson's face began to twist in on itself. Stiles started screaming as Jackson's eyes opened to reveal tiny mouths ringed with sharp little teeth. His mouth opened vertically, like an insect, and he began to give off a high pitched chittering screech. Humping along like a grotesque worm, Jackson began surging down the tunnel towards Stiles.

Then the light went out.

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In the bedroom of Pheer house, the Pack stood there mesmerized by the sight of Nega-Scott's severed legs adding a fresh pool of blood to the already soaked carpet. There was no end to the stuff, it was even dripping down the walls.

Inhuman laughter rocked the house, which began to shake harder than before.

"Stella, what's happening?" Derek asked.

"Kadeth. He's winning." Stella responded. Her eyes were wide, and her fists were clenched at her sides.

"Can you get that door open?" Derek shouted in a panic. His eyes turned a bright crimson.

"No. I'm…I'm just not strong enough." A thought came to her. She suddenly whirled to address Manfred Pheer, still inhabiting Jackson's body.

"Manfred. I think it's time to break a few rules."

"Name it." he said simply.

"First, you're going to need to leave this body. Second…you're going on a little trip."

And Manfred listened to the plan, wishing not for the first time since he met this extraordinary woman that he could have known her a little better…in another life.

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As Stiles waited helplessly to be devoured by Jackson, he suddenly noticed that he could move again. He seemed to be in a dark house, feeling his way along, sure that at any moment he was going to crash into a wall or topple over furniture. The Jackson-thing seemed to have vanished…or was lying in wait for him somewhere. Just when he thought he might make it to the front door, his fear came true and he toppled into something…bristly. Feeling more of it, he gave a shallow laugh. He had crashed into a Christmas tree.

The laugh turned into a scream. The Jackson-thing was on the ceiling. With a screech, it dropped towards a terrified Stiles. A jet of flame caught it in mid-air, and Jackson burned up like paper, leaving behind a stench that made Stiles' gorge rise. The walls and curtains as well as most of the furniture were now blazing merrily. Looking towards the source of the fire, Stiles discovered Danny in a fireman outfit (with no shirt) sporting a flamethrower attached to his back.

"It's true what they say…it's a pleasure to burn!" he gave an unpleasant laugh.

"Danny? You…you saved me from Jackson!" Stiles gasped out.

"Jackson can take his 'pity-friendship' and stuff it up his muscular backside. What a closet case…well, guess he's the flaming one now."

"Danny, get this tree off me before the whole house burns up!" Stiles called.

"No can do, Biles. Derek wants you to know exactly what his family went through before you try shoving a holiday down his throat again. Speaking of which, you wouldn't believe what I just saw Scott doing!" Danny chuckled. "Another closet case!"

"Danny! I mean it! Get this thing off!" Stiles saw the flames creeping closer, and struggled under the enormous weight of the tree.

"Oh, shut up! You should be happy, Stiles! Remember that question you asked me so long ago? Well, now you get the answer! For the first time ever, I think you're hot!"

Danny pointed the nozzle of the flamethrower at Stiles. In another instant, the Christmas tree was bathed in flame.

Stiles barely managed to get it off him and roll himself to the side. The room was an inferno. He crawled through into what seemed to be the living room, and beheld his father sitting in his favorite easy chair, passionately kissing Allison Argent. Stiles could only stare at them uncomprehendingly.

Allison noticed Stiles. "Don't feel bad, you should be thanking me. If I wasn't giving him my ass, believe me he'd be going for yours-"

Allison's head fell off her shoulders as an axe whickered through the air.

"Slut." muttered a blood-soaked Ted, before swinging it back around to decapitate Sheriff Stilinsky as well. Stiles watched the head of his father roll towards him, the tongue still lolling from the mouth as if trying to continue the make-out session with Allison.

"Fucking family, huh?" Ted said conversationally, leaning on the axe handle.

Stiles was on his feet, racing into the next room where, to his relief, there was a crowd of people.

"Help me! For God's sake, will somebody help me?" he shouted. No one paid any attention to him. They all seemed focused on something sitting in the front of the room. Stiles looked and saw something that made the breath stop in his throat.

It was a coffin. The tide of memory swept away all thought of Derek and the Pack.

Stiles approached in a daze, until he was looking down at her. He thought she would wake, perhaps tell him she had always hated him, perhaps tell him she was happy she died so she never had to be around him anymore. But she didn't. She lay there cold and still, like a mannequin that had never known true life. She had left him alone. They had all left him alone. He had no one, not a single person left. A sudden urge came to him to climb into the coffin with her. He knew that if he did so, he would die. The lid would close, never to open again. His mother would not suddenly spring to ravenous life as a flesh-hungry zombie. That would almost be a good thing; his death would be quick, and for a single moment he would be able to fool himself into thinking she was alive again. But he knew that wouldn't happen. There was something incredibly…final…about the way she lay there. Though he would be trapped with her body…he would be truly alone for whatever time he had left. It was a far more pleasant way to go than the monsters had been planning for him. He looked at the entrance hall. They were all there…the Pack and his father…even the two jerks who buried him in snow. Derek, with his arm around Scott looked at him with an almost forgotten impatience. He had to decide soon which way he wanted to die. With his mother, in peace...or at their mercy.

It took only a moment for Stiles to make his choice.

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Stella lay Lydia's body down next to Scott and Jackson. She left it behind, just as Manfred Pheer returned from his errand. The Pack, Derek included, had fallen to the floor in an exhausted daze as they awaited the outcome of the battle.

"I brought her." said the ghostly gentleman with a slight Southern accent.

Stella turned to look…at Stella. "Hello." she told herself.

"You aren't me…you're almost me, though. What's going on here?"

"My son…my Stiles…is on the other side of that door. With your help, I can open it." she told her.

"But that would be against the rules! I never break the rules! Not even…not even when…"

"I know. In your world, Stiles died. In mine, he lived…because I did what was necessary.

The new Stella's lip trembled. "You mean, here…I saved him? He's alive somewhere?"

"Yes. But we have to act now! Give me your hand!"

As the two women joined together, the dark force that haunted Pheer house was distracted for a moment as it sensed the rise of this new power. The two women, now sheathed in throbbing energy, approached the closed portal.

"I never…I never realized I was this powerful!" muttered the new Stella.

"That was sort of your whole problem. Now, make a fist…yes, like this, and on three…well, you know what to do. Ready? One…two…"

The doorway into the space between worlds shattered like a china plate in a shooting gallery

The women broke apart, both panting with effort, but thrilled at their accomplishment.

"Well, that was fun. But I really must be going! I'm going to get into such trouble…Oh! Tell Stiles to make sure he wears his jacket when he goes out! And tell him…" she began.

"I will."

Stella watched as her meek counterpart walked over to Manfred and batted her eyes at him. "Could I rely on your kindness just one more time to see me home?" she asked.

"I'll take her back." Manfred told Stella, winking. They faded away, and Stella knew that they would not be returning. This was the endgame, and one way or another this house was going to be destroyed. It was just as well her double left. Stella had never felt the urge to hit anyone more strongly in her entire life. No wonder things went wrong so badly in that world.

The Pack roused themselves, and they carried their fallen members through the doorway into the short hall that was no longer a gaping mouth but just an ordinary passageway with a door at the far end. The door that led home. There would be no forcing this one open, since that would allow Kadeth to escape. They just simply needed to be near it should Stiles emerge victorious and they all returned home…or to warn the rest of the world if the unthinkable happened. Derek knelt down next to Nega-Scott, whose Alpha healing factor was keeping him alive despite the catastrophic damage done to his body. He was shivering with pain, mumbling words Derek couldn't make out. Ted and Danny carried Jackson and Lydia, while Allison carried Scott (needing the full Beta shift to support his weight).

"There's no place like home." muttered Nega-Scott, his pain fogged mind wondering why his efforts to click his heels together were failing so miserably.

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Stiles stared at the coffin as he had once done many years ago. He remembered when his father told him that Mommy was in a box because she was going to God. So, because God wanted her, he took her away without asking any of the Stilinsky family if they would mind. God had left Stiles one step closer to being the thing he was most afraid of being…completely and utterly alone.

Stiles remembered how he felt when that realization hit him. He felt fucking furious.

Stiles gripped the edge of the coffin, hardly aware of the claws sprouting from his fingers.

He thought of the bullies who had picked on him for most of his life. The eyes he turned on his tormentors darkened to dead black, before suddenly flaring amber and crimson.

"So, son? What's the choice going to be? How are you going to die?" asked his father, pulling the cord on an enormous chainsaw.

A pain across his left temple sent Stiles to his knees. The horn that now arched proudly from his temple dripped blood steadily on the clean white carpet of the funeral parlor.

"How am I going to die? I'll tell you. I'm going to die last." He bared his new triple rows of teeth at the people he once loved, and stalked forward to slaughter them all.

He reached Lydia first, thrusting his hand into her chest and pulling out her beating heart. He dropped it to the floor and stomped it flat.

"Just returning the favor!" he told her. Jackson came for him next, fully wolfed out. But for all that Jackson was a star on the lacrosse field, he didn't know Jack-shit about how to kill. Stiles wrenched his head around full circle, disemboweling both Ted and Danny before Jackson hit the floor. Grabbing Ted's axe, he split his father's face almost in half with the sharp blade. The chainsaw was salvaged from the still trembling hands and used to decapitate Allison Argent for the second time in as many hours. He was knocked to the floor by the remaining four. The bullies (whose names he honestly could not remember) pinned his arms, while Scott straddled his legs. A smirking Derek walked over, the Alpha shift beginning to take over his features.

"One thing I'll give you, cub…" he growled, struggling to speak before the shift made it impossible: "…you'll taste sooo much better than Scott!"

"Derek, Derek, Derek…" Stiles broke the holds the bullies had on him and pulled their throats out in simultaneous wet sprays. He kicked Scott off of him, and caught the Alpha by the throat in mid-leap. "I've always wondered what it would be like to do the things that you do!" He smashed the Alpha's head into the nearest wall, splattering it everywhere. The furry body fell to the floor, lifeless. "Now I know!"

Only Scott remained standing. The crowd assembled for the viewing still had not turned around.

Stiles looked at his best friend. Scott roared and came charging at him.

"As your bro…let me give you a final piece of advice!" Stiles caught Scott in headlock, and stuck both hands into his mouth. With a wrench, he pulled Scott's head apart.

"Learn to keep your mouth shut…especially when it comes to my boyfriend."

Stiles remembered everything now, and knew that these puppets were not his true quarry. Kadeth would never be taken down so easily…

Stiles stalked out of the parlor and back into the snowstorm in which he started. Somewhere, there was a ring of trees that would be the place of his final reckoning.

He followed the path, passing statues of both Peter Hale and Kate Argent, the two sides of a war that had almost gotten Stiles killed once before. He pulverized both statues with fists that felt no pain at the impact. He saw the ring ahead, and the black furred beast that waited within. This was no Alpha Derek, come to give him warmth and rescue, and the gift of lycanthropy. This was a being trapped since time immemorial in a hell-dimension, determined to destroy Stiles in order to get free. It boasted almost unlimited power to confront sentient beings with the things they feared and hated the most, after which it devoured them.

Stiles went towards it eagerly. Neither would leave the ring until the other was destroyed. That was just fine with him.

It was different seeing the creature in the flesh rather than in one of its Glamours…it was inhuman looking and assaulted the very fortress of sanity just by its presence…but it also seemed finite…contained. The creature's fur, which had been glossy black in Stiles mind was gray and even missing in patches. The creature was old…and not the Power it once was, it who had once fed on whole cities with armies of horrors now struggled to make do with the random victim it could devour and drain. The proud horns looked chipped and uneven. The bleat it gave off was terrifying…and pitiable.

No words were spoken, and in fact no blows were exchanged. When Stiles entered the ring of trees, he simply stood before Kadeth and willed him to be dead. Kadeth responded in kind, the two beings focusing their reality altering powers on each other to erase their enemy from existence.

It was nearly an even match. Kadeth was old, but powerful…and long experienced. Stiles was young and strong, but new to this form of battle. Kadeth was a whole, whereas Stiles was a half at best. Kadeth pressed every advantage, flooding the boy-thing with endless terrors…but finding no weakness from which to draw strength. Ironically, by throwing everything it had at Stiles during his journey here, it had exhausted nearly the whole bag of tricks. Had it used one fear at a time, it might have met with greater success…but it was desperate, and after so many long years had begun to know fear of its own. Stiles had been so drained by the experience, he felt as if he used up his life's allotment of fear. Having faced everything, there was simply nothing more to be afraid of. All that was left was rage, which Stiles had in abundant supply. Yet still Kadeth seemed to be winning.

But that was only the external battle. Within Stiles, things were changing. The wolf and the goat, representing forces that had been struggling for balance since the day they had become aware of each other, suddenly quit their internal battle for dominance. The wolf fed all of its life-force into the goat, holding nothing back. In the real world, Stiles screamed as a new horn pushed its way through the right side of his skull, his eye turning from amber to black with a red cat-like iris. The wolf inside him shrank as the goat-presence overwhelmed Stiles from within. Had the threat of Kadeth been less immediate, it would have acted at once, easily squeezing the wolf as (well as any shred of the human Stiles) out of existence. Instead, it focused its rapidly waxing power outward, and lashed Kadeth with its titanic will…now capable of altering perceived reality on a par with that of its ancestor.

As Kadeth beheld the full transformation of the boy into one of his own kind, he knew it was over. The great plan had failed, and now there was nowhere left to go. It played its final card, sending out one last signal before the energies Stiles commanded formed rings around Kadeth's essence, and then suddenly squeezed together. The explosion propelled Stiles from the ring. Reality seemed to tear around him.

{}{}{}{}

'Go ahead. Start demolition.' came the text. The foreman gave the signal to the wrecking ball operator. He gave a thumb's up back and hit the lever.

{}{}{}{}

The Pack looked over as Stiles body slammed to the floor of the small hallway.

The Pack cheered, all save for Derek as he slowly realized what happened. Even Stella was speechless. Stiles came to and glanced at them.

"Heeeereee's Stiles!" he said without humor. "I don't have much time. We won…and we lost. Kadeth is dead…but I'm too far gone to be allowed back on earth." Stiles waved a hand at the doorway home, and with a small snick it opened. Beyond lay the dilapidated bedroom of a musty old house.

"No way, Stiles-" Derek began. He bent double as a crippling pain roared through his body.

"You swore an oath, Derek. It will kill you if you try to break it. Get the Pack out of here. Go!" Derek gave one last glance at Stella, then rushed everyone through the door. Stiles heard them crashing through the house as they left.

"Mom…you should go too. I'm not going to be your son anymore, as soon as whatever's happening inside me finishes taking me over. The only reason I can even still pretend to be me is that the wolf isn't dead yet. The goat's killing it right now…just like it killed Kadeth. I won't be a werewolf anymore…I'll be something so much worse." Stiles discussed this as if he were going over a list of tedious errands. Human thought was falling away from him. Soon, he wouldn't even remember what it was like.

"I'll stay for just a minute more." Stella said evenly. She was gathering herself, preparing for what she was going to do. She would never let Stiles be trapped in some hell-dimension. She could take him out, if she did it before he reached full strength. Even if it didn't destroy her…it would destroy her.

"Hey." muttered Nega-Scott.

"Holy crap." They both turned towards Nega-Scott, forgotten in the mad flight from Pheer House.

"Stiles…kill me. Put me out of my misery." He groaned.

"Scott…I can't."

Stella looked at him hopefully. Was he winning the internal battle after all?

"I'm sorry Scott…but as I said before, your death is useless to me. I'm gonna need you to feed!" And the last bit of humanity drained out of Stiles Stilinsky. He gripped Nega-Scott's head in a hooked claw hand.

"Always said…I would give my life for you…" Nega-Scott moaned. His eyes suddenly flared wide open, the bleeding hellfire gaze of the Alpha glaring at Stiles with pure malevolence. Stiles rejoiced…this is what he needed…he would feed on Nega-Scott's rage for years…perhaps even becoming strong enough to…

Nega-Scott grabbed one of the hook-clawed fingers and quickly raked it across his own throat. The skin ripped wide, bathing Stiles in his best friend's blood. The crimson glow faded as the young Alpha closed his eyes for the last time.

"Not…so…useless…" he gasped out before dying.

"NO! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?" Stiles fell backward, his body flailing around as the internal battle…so nearly won…suddenly took another turn.

Stella knew she should do it, knew she should destroy her son while she had the chance, but she could not do it until she saw final convincing proof that he was gone forever. When she saw him about to feed on his best friend, she felt that moment had come. She lifted her arm and pointed her finger at her son. Then, to her horror, she watched the young Alpha use her son to end his own life. Having known werewolves for years, she knew what would happen next.

A sound caught her attention. She glanced outside the window of Earth's version of Pheer House and saw the wrecking ball beginning its swing towards the house. The portal had about five seconds left before it was destroyed. Stella grabbed Stiles and pulled him through the door just as the top of the house was knocked free by the wrecking ball. The portal popped like a soap bubble, leaving her in the open air of Earth with a boy who might or might not decide to devour the world tomorrow.

{}{}{}{}

The foreman almost had a heart attack when he saw the group of people running from the house. He almost had an aneurysm when he saw that one of them was Whittemore's kid…and he looked like he was unconscious, or worse. He frantically squawked at the ball operator to stop the damn thing.

{}{}{}{}

Somewhere, deep within the soul of Stiles Stilinsky, a wolf grown suddenly to enormous proportions turned and devoured a rather indignant goat.

{}{}{}{}

The Pack made it off Pheer House property. Jackson, Lydia and Scott came awake, and stared with hollow eyes at the house that kept them prisoner.

Then their eyes widened as they saw Stiles walking towards them, a Stiles who looked completely human…but who seemed to walk with a little extra swagger in his step. Derek ran forward, then stopped in amazement as his mate flashed a crimson eyed gaze at him.

"Guess we are sharing the pants in this relationship, Der."

Derek's eyes rolled up into his head, and he passed out.

{}{}{}{}

Pheer House was demolished, and the frantic foreman was assured that nothing would be mentioned to Whittemore Sr.…as long as he kept his own mouth shut as well.

{}{}{}{}

Nega-Scott rejoined his Pack on another world, and all of them felt that they could now face Stiles and Derek once again.

Nega-Stella became less meek, having learned she could blast things.

{}{}{}{}

Back at the Hale home, Stella said goodbye to Derek and her son for the last time. Stiles cried, and so did Derek. "I do have one more early Christmas present for you all. She gave them each matching jackets with Christmas themed patterns on the backs. She insisted they put them on before she left. As one, they all fainted. Stella prepared to break her last rule.

{}{}{}{}

"That was the most boring Halloween ever!" grumbled Stiles. "Watching Lydia bob for apples for hours. I swear I'll have nightmares about it. If only that coin Ted flipped had turned the other way!"

Derek felt bad about it, but he was glad things worked out the way they did. After all, haunted houses could be dangerous.

{}{}{}{}

Up on a cloud, Laura Hale sat chatting with Stella Stilinsky. "The uppity-ups really put the whammy on you going down to see them, huh?"

Stella nodded her head thoughtfully.

"You wiped their minds to keep them from going insane…but how are they going to explain Stiles?"

Stella looked startled. "You know, I forgot all about that!"

"Hoo, boy." Laura sighed.

{}{}{}{}

"Stiles, you've gotten really bossy lately. Don't forget who the Alpha in this Pack is!" Derek grumbled at his mate as they got ready for bed.

"Bossy? Bossy! I'll show you who's Bossy!"

A clawed hand yanked Derek onto the bed. The next day, they had to shop for a new one.