Archive of Our Own

When Stiles found out that Liam had resurrected Theo freaking Raeken while he was benched by the whole erased-from-existence-and-trapped-in-a-dusty-train-station-with-only-Peter-Hale-for-company ordeal, he reacted with all the grace and calm the revelation warranted.

Which is to say that he went, in a word, ballistic.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” he shouted, gesturing wildly in Liam’s direction. Liam winced a little, but lifted his chin, jaw clenched in the way it always did when the kid decided to dig his heels in. Fan-freaking-tastic. “Did you forget that that freak of nature tried to kill Scott? Or that time that he, oh yeah, almost manipulated you into killing Scott? After which, by the way, since you’ve clearly lost your grip on reality, he was going to kill you. You know, all of the very valid reasons why we put him in the ground in the first place?”

“Stiles,” Scott started, but Liam talked over him.

“Obviously I didn’t forget,” he bit out. “But if I hadn’t brought him back, we wouldn’t have known anything about Douglas! Or Scott might not have made it to the diverter in time, and then everyone in Beacon Hills would be gone! And he—”

He cut himself off, jaw working. His eyes flickered uncertainly over to Scott, who looked back at him with what was, in Stiles’s opinion, far too much calm reassurance.

“He saved my life,” Liam said, finally. The words were quiet and colored with something Stiles couldn’t put his finger on. Disbelief, maybe, or awe. “He lured dozens of Ghost Riders away from me at the hospital. He could’ve just run. I thought he would, but he didn’t.”

Which was. Well. Unfortunately difficult to rebut.

Stiles did his best anyway.

“Okay, you know what, first off, he didn’t save your life. You just would’ve gotten stuck in the train station until we beat the Ghost Riders. Second, really? For once in his selfish life he decides not to cut and run at the first sign of trouble and you just want to—what? Forgive him? Throw him a freaking welcome party? He’s a sociopath—”

“Stiles,” Scott said, more firmly this time. Stiles looked at him, and Scott gave him an apologetic grimace. “There’s been a lot going on while you were—you know. And as much as I hate to say it, Theo has been…helpful. He did save Liam, and he fought Douglas with us when he didn’t have to. That’s not nothing.”

“It’s not enough, either,” Malia cut in. Finally, some evidence that the whole goddamn pack didn’t go collectively insane in Stiles’s absence. “Not after everything he did.”

Stiles waved in her direction, a silent there-you-have-it. The room was quiet for a handful of moments. Liam continued to look at Scott, eyes wide and pleading, with Hayden behind him shifting uncomfortably. Malia crossed her arms, quiet anger radiating off her in waves. Mason and Corey had their hands linked in the narrow space between them, eyes meeting in apparent contemplation.

When Lydia, who had remained quiet and calm throughout the entire conversation to that point, spoke, her voice was measured. “There was nothing stopping him from leaving,” she said. “Liam, you said the Sheriff was taken almost immediately after you guys let Theo out of the holding cell, right?”

Liam nodded.

“And once he was free,” she said, clearly building up to something, “he helped Liam draw the Ghost Riders away from Scott, drew them away from Liam, and then helped fight Douglas and the Riders long enough for Scott to divert the train, when there was no one left in town to try and detain him. There’s no erasing everything he did to us, but we can’t ignore the fact that he could’ve fled the moment Liam and the Sheriff released him at the station. None of us were going to waste time stopping him, were we?”

Stiles really, genuinely couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Lydia, he put you in Eichen.”

“I’m aware,” Lydia said, sharp enough that Stiles winced. “I’m also aware that if he hadn’t helped us, I might very well be the only one left in a ghost town, dreaming up apparitions to keep myself sane.”

The words hung heavily in the ensuing silence. Malia still looked angry, but she brushed her shoulder against Lydia’s in grudging solidarity.

“We haven’t seen him since the Ghost Riders moved on,” Mason said, eventually. “As long as he doesn’t try anything, it might be easiest to just…let him move on, too. I mean, I for one would be thrilled to never see him again.”

Scott glanced around at the pack, scattered around the McCall living room, and Stiles followed his gaze. Everyone seemed to have reached different stages of acceptance, from visibly reluctant to resigned to calm. Then Scott turned to Stiles.

Internally, Stiles screamed with frustration. Aloud, he said, “So we’re really gonna do this? Let him run off and wreak havoc on some other poor bastards who won’t see him coming?”

“I want to believe he’s learned his lesson, especially without the Dread Doctors and chimeras around to back him up,” Scott said. “But even if he hasn’t, what are we supposed to do? It’s not like we can just track him down and kill him, even if we did know where he went.”

Don’t see why not, Stiles thought, but he’d long since resigned himself to losing that particular battle. Scott’s morals would get them all killed someday. “Maybe not, but we could track him down and trap him. It worked the first time—the little rat gets to stay alive, and we get peace of mind that he’s not off murdering anyone else.”

“Uh,” Liam said. “About that.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at him.

“The thing is,” Liam said, and then he filled in the part of the story that he’d casually neglected to mention the first time around.

Stiles took a deep breath.

“I leave you unsupervised for three goddamn months—”

Anyway.

With the sword broken, Liam stubbornly refusing to break his deal with Theo by trying to reassemble it, and Theo vanished into the wind, Stiles had resigned himself to an uneasy existence of trying to forget the fact that Theo freaking Raeken was at large in the world. College and the pre-FBI program—the actual FBI, holy God—and saving Derek Hale’s ungrateful ass from the federal manhunt he’d gotten himself into—honestly, what the fuck, Derek—served as solid distractions.

Until.

Until he and Derek hauled ass to Beacon Hills to address the message written in blood concerning the town that had been, as far as Stiles knew, fine and safe and dandy since he left for Washington.

As it turned out, Stiles did not know. Stiles did not know anything about the absolute shitshow that had been going down over the last few weeks, and there was going to be serious hell to pay once they took care of Gerard freaking Argent and the all-out war he had apparently started in Beacon Hills.

Stiles watched as Scott’s fist clenched around the police radio, Gerard’s parting words hanging ominously in the cab of the Jeep. Scott closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths that Stiles could tell he was struggling to keep measured. Stiles, personally, was trying not to lose his shit.

Jackson tortured at the Armory Liam trapped at the hospital Parrish outnumbered at Eichen Scott’s father detained they were outnumbered outmaneuvered doomed doomed doomed

And then Scott’s eyes opened.

“We’re gonna—” he started. Swallowed, throat bobbing. “We’re gonna have to split up.”

Derek said, quietly, “That’s what he wants.”

There was no censure in his tone, just quiet acknowledgement, but Scott winced regardless.

“I know,” he said, helplessly. “I know, but I can’t—”

He paused again, took another slow breath, in and out, and then the Scott McCall determination set into his shoulders and the line of his jaw.

“We’ve beaten him before, and we’ll do it again,” Scott said firmly. “But we’ll need reinforcements. The Sheriff, and Argent, and…you know what, give me a second.”

He pulled out his phone, scrolled through his contacts, and pressed Call. As they all waited for the call to connect, Stiles crossed his fingers for luck, hoping fervently that Argent wasn’t still roaming the continent and had returned to Beacon Hills after his run-in with Derek. They really couldn’t afford for him to be kicking his heels on a plane right now.

“Theo, hey,” Scott said, and Stiles’s mind went blank. He blinked a few times, processing that entirely unwelcome revelation, before he snapped reluctantly back to reality. A reality that was growing darker by the second, Jesus Christ.

“...as fast as you can,” Scott was saying. “Just buy us more time. Wherever Liam and the others are, get them out of there.” A pause, in which Stiles could hear Theo’s voice faintly on the other end of the line. He really wished he couldn’t. “Both.” Another pause, and then Scott put the phone down.

“So,” Stiles said, taking great pains to keep his voice level. “Theo.”

“Um,” Scott said, and then, hesitantly, “...yes?”

“Theo Raeken.”

“Right.”

“We don’t have time for me to tell you how absolutely furious I am right now,” Stiles said. “But rest assured, we will be having words, Scott McCall.”

Scott nodded, clearly resigned to his fate. Good.

“For now, just answer me this: are you absolutely certain that he’ll show up? This is Liam’s life we’re risking here, Scott.”

“He will,” Scott said. “I wouldn’t have called him if I wasn’t sure. He’ll go to the hospital.”

When Stiles glanced over at Malia, his most reliable source of Theo-related sanity, she didn’t look happy, but there was no doubt or uncertainty in the hard lines of her face. Stiles dragged a hand over his face and relented.

“Great,” he sighed. “Sure. Why not. There’s some kind of supernatural genocide going on, for some reason we’re not running for the hills, and apparently you trust Theo now. All things I definitely wouldn’t have wanted to know every time we talked on the phone.”

Scott had the decency to look guilty, but didn’t respond.

“Fantastic,” Stiles said, wearily. “Now can somebody please explain to us what the hell is going on?”

Because nobody seemed to understand Stiles’s need for answers immediately, please and thanks, it was determined that they would reconvene at Deaton’s clinic to plan their war strategy, Jesus. As Stiles turned the ignition over for the second time—oh, how he’d missed his Jeep—Derek leaned forward from his place in the backseat.

“Question,” he said, while Scott was conferring with Peter, Lydia, and Malia outside. “Isn’t Theo the one who tried to kill Scott and take over the pack?”

“Yup.”

“And we’re trusting this guy?”

Really, Stiles should have called Derek for reinforcements when Scott let him off the hook the first time. When he could count on nobody else to be rational, he could always count on Derek Hale to back him up against the McCall School Of Forgiveness And Bygones And The Power Of Friendship^TM.

“Thank you.”

After everything, when Stiles could breathe again, after he’d gotten his arms around his dad in a bone-crushing hug and after substantial amounts of pizza had been ordered to the McCall house, he was forced to admit that he wasn’t unhappy Scott had made that call.

Not that Stiles had been wrong to question the hell out of that decision. He hadn’t been. He still didn’t trust Theo as far as he could throw him, and Stiles was human and therefore couldn’t throw him at all.

However.

He was just so obvious.

Stiles hadn’t been around to witness any of Liam’s interactions with Theo during either the Ghost Rider ordeal or this whole fiasco, but he was very curious as to how in the hell Liam managed to wrap Theo so completely around his finger, because it was now readily apparent to Stiles that Theo was, in fact, gone on the beta.

Stiles had bristled when Theo trailed into the McCall living room, tense, face set in obvious reluctance to be there. Stiles was equally reluctant to see him there. What right did he have to intrude upon a pack meeting, for the pack, the pack that he was not a part of?

Then he took stock of Liam’s hand around Theo’s wrist, the way Liam dragged him bodily into the room and onto the floor next to him, the visible relaxation of his shoulders when Liam sat close enough for their arms to brush.

Oh, this was rich.

“Seriously?” he asked through his teeth, flicking a tense hand in Liam’s direction and refusing to look at Theo. He could admit to himself and no one else that Scott hadn’t been wrong to call him in for backup, but that didn’t mean they should just welcome him into their midst as though he was wanted there. He was very much not wanted. “We’re all just gonna pretend like this isn’t totally insa—”

“Drop it, Stiles,” Liam interrupted, voice hard.

“Liam, come on, man, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“We’re not doing this tonight,” Liam said. “I would be dead and probably being mutilated for trophies right now if Theo hadn’t shown up, and I’m tired, and we are not doing this tonight.”

“Oh my God, Liam,” Mason said, sounding mildly hysterical. “You told me that the hunters were, and I quote, ‘nothing you couldn’t handle.’ You said you were fine!”

“I am fine,” Liam said. “But, like, they had machine guns and a clear shot, and I had no exit, so.”

“Oh my God, Liam,” Mason repeated faintly.

Stiles was kind of stuck on the whole mutilated for trophies part of Liam’s little tirade—the kid was seventeen, fuck, he was going to be sick all over Melissa’s carpet—so he almost missed the surprised look Theo shot Liam’s way. Liam was staring down at his knees, flushed high along his cheekbones. He didn’t look up as Theo stared at him before jerking his gaze hastily away, but he knocked Theo’s shoulder with his own, earning himself another wondering glance from Theo.

When Theo returned the gesture, brushing his shoulder cautiously against Liam’s, Liam glanced up at him for a split second. He returned his focus to his bent knees almost immediately, but even Stiles’s nausea didn’t stop him from noticing the way Liam bit down on his lower lip, like he was fighting back a smile, and the awe that crept into Theo’s expression before he locked it down.

Stiles knew a lost cause when he saw one.

When the pizzas arrived, borne by two laden-down and highly confused delivery guys, Stiles grabbed two boxes from the piles Lydia had organized by topping. The first—pepperoni and extra cheese, and God bless Melissa for always remembering the cheese—he dropped in Derek’s lap for safekeeping. The second he slid toward Liam—definitely just Liam, thank you very much—without comment before returning to his seat of honor on the couch and flipping open the box he’d foisted onto Derek. When Derek didn’t move, Stiles shoved him, looking pointedly at the pizza until Derek sighed and took a slice. Satisfied—he was trying, with limited success, to train Derek into having opinions about food beyond I really don’t care, Stiles, please just pick something before I starve to death—Stiles picked up a particularly pepperoni-heavy slice and returned to not-staring at Liam, who immediately groaned when he opened the box in front of him.

“You know I hate olives, Stiles, are you trying to make me punch you?”

Theo’s gaze snapped to Stiles. Stiles ignored him and took a huge bite.

“It won’t kill you to eat a vegetable, buddy,” he said around a mouthful of pizza. Across the room, Lydia wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“Technically, olives are a fruit,” Mason said. “They’re just savory in taste, so people treat them like a vegetable.”

Next to him, Corey groaned, dropping his head against Mason’s shoulder. “You’re not allowed to be cute and nerdy after the night we had, I’m too tired to appreciate it.”

“I’ll think about it when you stop being so—”

“No,” Liam said firmly, drawing Stiles’s attention back to the floor space he and Theo were occupying. “Absolutely not. We agreed no more flirting in front of me after the third time—”

“It was not three times,” Mason protested, just as Corey said, flushing scarlet, “Oh my God, can we not.”

Theo had averted his gaze from Stiles in order to methodically pick all the olives off of one half of the pizza, piling them onto the other side. It took Liam a minute to notice, but when he did, he looked almost guilty.

“You don’t have to–”

“It’s fine, I like them,” Theo said absentmindedly, his attention on removing the last few olives from Liam’s half. Liam whipped his head toward Stiles, expression flickering between confusion and suspicion before settling into a cautious sort of relief. He smiled, just slightly, and Stiles rolled his eyes. On the other couch, curled up with an entirely disinterested Malia, Scott beamed at him, radiating so much pride that Stiles had to look away.

Derek clearly hadn’t missed the interaction, nudging Stiles and raising a brow when Stiles met his eyes. Keeping his face decidedly neutral, Stiles said, “Now do you agree with me about the necessity of extra cheese?”

Derek shook his head, but Stiles knew he was amused. “Sure, Stiles, why not.”

Stiles glanced back to where Liam had reached across Theo to bump his slice against Mason’s in some kind of ridiculous toast before attempting the same with an exasperated-looking Theo.

Later, he cornered Lydia and said, “Tell me everything.”

“Oh, thank God, I’ve been suffering their idiocy alone, Stiles,” Lydia said. “A couple of days ago, Scott commented on how happy he was that they were becoming friends, and I would have screamed if I wasn’t afraid it would kill us all.”

Stiles settled in for the long haul.

-

If Malia had gotten her way, Theo Raeken would have bled out under her claws several times over, but Scott’s no-murder rule had extinguished that fantasy a long time ago. She had been content enough to ignore his continued existence as long as he kept far, far away from her pack, but then he turned up again like the cockroach he was, wheedling his way closer to Scott’s good graces as though he hadn’t willingly forfeited his place there.

Malia knew there were societal nuances she would never fully grasp, but she understood give and take, debt and payment. Even in the depths of the animal instinct she had leaned into all those years as a coyote, she had understood that. Animals were smarter than humans gave them credit for—they remembered those who helped and harmed them, and knew to react accordingly.

Debt: Theo had lied to and manipulated all of them.

Payment: Theo had told them the truth about Garrett Douglas. He had gotten something out of that in the form of Liam destroying Kira’s sword, but Malia figured he could’ve just lied if he really wanted to cause more problems for them.

Debt: Theo had tried to kill Scott and would have killed Liam.

Payment: Theo had saved Liam from the Ghost Riders.

Debt: Theo had sold Malia out to her mother and left her for dead.

Payment: Theo had helped Malia and Peter fend off Douglas and the Ghost Riders so Scott could divert the train.

Debt: Theo had sent Lydia into a catatonic state. Collateral damage.

Payment: Theo had played decoy at the zoo to give them a fighting chance at the Armory.

Debt and payment, over and over and over again, until Malia was starting to run out of debts for him to pay. Things he had done to the people Malia loved, and things he had done for them. There was one, though, that she couldn’t quite wrap her head around.

Debt: Theo had tried to turn Liam into a murderer.

Payment: Theo had stopped Liam from killing, repeatedly.

She knew about the hunters, during the war—Liam had told them, shame-faced but determined, how Theo had forcibly intervened when Liam lost control at the zoo with Nolan and talked him down from murdering Gabe in the school locker room. She had never fully figured it out; from what she understood, Nolan was pointing a loaded crossbow at Liam at the time, and Gabe had been actively trying to kill them all with disturbing regularity. He’d shot up Scott’s house, for fuck’s sake. Malia doubted whether she would have bothered to step in—it was war, the hunters weren’t innocent. Keeping them alive didn’t serve Theo in any way; Nolan might have had a change of heart, but Gabe nearly murdered Theo and Liam both at the hospital even after Theo saved his life and kept attacking them until he died.

Until he died with Theo taking his pain.

Malia wasn’t an expert on pain-siphoning, but she was fairly confident that she wouldn’t be able to drum up that much empathy for someone who had tried to murder her literal seconds prior. Her own ability to take pain was still touch-and-go sometimes—she’d felt enough sympathy for Corey to manage it when he was horrifically burnt at Eichen, but she had struggled to take Scott’s pain in the sewers, and she cared more about Scott than she did nearly anyone else. For Theo to manage it was—

Well. It wasn’t nothing, like Scott had said once upon a time.

It’s not enough, Malia had responded, but now, she wasn’t sure.

She was very clear on the fact that she didn’t like Theo by any stretch of the word, and his death probably wouldn’t cause her significant emotional distress, but she didn’t actively want him dead anymore, and she didn’t know what to do with that.

Malia didn’t always pick up on emotional nuances, but she was very, very certain that, while she definitely did not like Theo Raeken, Liam absolutely did.

The two of them had stuck together during the war largely due to circumstances and necessity—based on past experience, Liam was the only one of them Scott had been reasonably confident Theo wouldn’t immediately leave for dead, and Liam, for all his anger issues, tolerated Theo a hell of a lot more than either Scott or Malia did. Lydia would have been professional about it, but, while she might very well be the most powerful of all of them, she bled like a human. None of them were willing to risk it, after the harm she’d already endured at Theo’s claws.

After the war, though.

After the war, Liam kept Theo close, and not in a wary, keep-your-enemies-closer kind of way. He dragged him to official pack meetings and unofficial pack hangouts and glared at anyone who looked edgewise. Theo, for his part, seemed consistently blindsided by Liam’s behavior toward him, like he was just as confused as the rest of the pack.

And their scents.

Theo had been careful, back when he was evil and trying to take over the pack, to regulate his scent. Malia had spent plenty of time interrogating Deaton as to how he’d fooled them, and had come away with the understanding that, while Theo was dangerously adept at picking and choosing certain chemosignals to conceal, it was virtually impossible to fake them. It was related, Deaton had said, to a person’s ability to suppress or embrace their natural emotional responses, not the chemosignals themselves.

In plain terms: Theo was an emotionally repressed asshole, but he couldn’t actually make himself feel any given emotion, just tamp down on the ones he didn’t want anyone to pick up on until they were near-impossible to detect.

But now, apparently, Theo was either letting himself feel things to some degree like a semi-normal person, or he’d just gotten slightly worse at hiding them. Malia could usually get a decent read on him when he was, say, amused or surprised, but she was never able to pick up on fear or anger, even when he was visibly uncomfortable.

And when Liam was around—

When Liam was around, Theo oscillated wildly between total lockdown, refusing to let anyone in the pack pick up on his emotional state, and abrupt, apparently uncontrollable surges of emotion. He always rushed to bury those flashes of happiness and affection, but not quickly enough to stop Malia from catching it and rolling her eyes.

Liam was a much easier read. His chemosignals went hot with anger at any perceived slight against Theo, soft with contentment when he had Theo next to him on couches and in diner booths, talking civilly with the pack, and bright with joy when Theo let him sling his legs across his lap or when he caught sight of Theo in the stands at one of his lacrosse games.

Malia wondered whether Liam knew he was broadcasting his emotions to anyone with a supernatural nose and just didn’t care, or if he remained utterly oblivious to the fact that most of the pack could pick up on his nauseatingly sappy Theo-related feelings.

It was probably the latter. Liam wasn’t stupid, but he could be as dense as a brick wall sometimes.

Right now, Malia found herself actually wishing he smelled stupidly happy over one of Theo’s half-smiles, which was something of a low point for her. Anything would be better than the cocktail of rage, grief, and guilt she could smell from a mile away as she crashed through the Preserve on four legs, tracking him with ease. She hadn’t picked up on that particular noxious blend from Liam since hunters ran Brett and Lori down in the street like animals.

“Liam, stop–”

She burst out of the underbrush and skidded to a halt, shifting back out of her coyote form to take in the scene. Scott was desperately attempting to simultaneously fend off a hunter, armed with a handgun—no wolfsbane, she could tell by the smell and the fact that Scott and Liam both seemed to have taken a few bullets and were still on their feet—and Liam, who was wolfed-out and snarling.

“He killed them!”

Well. She guessed they had finally found the driver.

“I know—shit,” Scott said, releasing his grip on Liam in order to throw his body weight into the hunter behind him, knocking him back a few steps. The move cost him, with Liam taking advantage of the distance to shove past Scott, making it two paces toward the hunter before Scott launched himself at him, fighting to keep his thrashing arms contained. “We’re not killers, Liam, stop—”

“I don’t care,” Liam snarled, still straining to get to the hunter, who apparently didn’t know the meaning of self-preservation, as he continued trying to land a bullet in Scott’s unguarded back. Honestly, how stupid was he? Did he not realize that Scott was the only thing holding Liam back from tearing out his throat? “Maybe that’s our problem.”

Malia didn’t disagree, but Scott would be upset if Liam killed someone, and Liam would almost definitely regret it once he calmed down, so she made the executive decision to tackle the bastard before he could get himself killed. She lashed out with a clawed hand, making him cry out in pain and drop his gun as he clutched at his other arm.

Weak. She hadn’t even gotten him that deeply.

She got him on the ground, shoving her forearm into his throat, and hissed, “Stay down, you idiot.”

“Oh thank God,” Scott said, for once too preoccupied to blush at her nudity. “Shit, Liam, come on, man—”

Theo chose that moment to burst into the clearing, human-shaped but thankfully clothed. Malia wasn’t shy by any means and honestly didn’t know why her friends were so prudish when it came to her own shift-induced nudity, but she really didn’t need to see Theo naked. Again.

“Come on, Liam,” he said, approaching Liam and Scott where they were still tussling. “We’ve been over this.”

Liam went still, head straining toward Theo. Scott didn’t let go of him, but he relaxed his grip slightly.

“Theo,” Liam said, a growl in his voice. “He killed them.”

The hunter underneath her attempted to buck her off. Malia snapped her fangs at him and leaned her weight more heavily across his hips.

Theo came to a stop in front of Liam, ignoring Scott entirely. Malia could see the tension in Theo’s frame, but his voice was casual when he said, “Hey, I’m not saying he wouldn’t deserve it, but you’ve gotta be smarter than this. Witnesses, remember?”

“Theo,” Scott said, alarmed. “What are you—”

Theo paid him no attention, keeping his gaze locked on Liam’s. Liam’s gold-flared eyes were wide and desperate, and oh. Oh, Theo was Liam’s—

“You wanna come back later and finish the job, you know I’ll help,” Theo said, nonchalantly, like he was suggesting they watch a movie later, not commit a murder. “I picked up some shovels last week, but I still don’t have that chainsaw I mentioned, so you’ll have to give me a heads-up so I can go shopping.”

The hunter started struggling more frantically at that. Malia, beyond done with him, slammed his head into the ground beneath him, knocking him out but hopefully not killing him.

That would be anticlimactic, after all this.

Slowly, Liam’s shift began to recede, the bones in his face smoothing out, but eyes continued to glow golden, and the claws and fangs hadn’t retracted.

“Liam,” Theo said, stepping somehow closer. Liam’s scent was tipping further and further into shame and grief, the anger not so overwhelming. “He’s not worth it.”

One second, two, and then Liam took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were blue, his teeth and nails blunt and harmlessly human.

“You can let go now,” Liam said, strained, and Scott released him, his scent sharp with disbelief and concern.

Liam stumbled back a step, and Theo reached out to steady him. “Easy. You didn’t hurt him, Liam.”

“I would’ve,” Liam said, and even a human could have picked up on the self-loathing permeating the clearing.

“You didn’t,” Theo said, like it was that simple. Maybe it was.

Scott apparently decided to leave them to it, turning toward Malia, who was now standing over the hunter’s unconscious form. He then appeared to fully register her nudity, flushed to the roots of his hair, and whipped back around. Fumbling desperately with the zipper, he managed to divest himself of his coat and toss it over his shoulder to her. Malia rolled her eyes but zipped it up.

Honestly, you’d think he had never seen her naked before. The first time they met, she was naked. They’d literally had sex that morning.

Societal norms really didn’t make sense to Malia, sometimes.

“Did you really buy shovels?” Liam was asking as Malia and Scott reapproached them.

“Yeah,” Theo said. “Your mom wants to get into gardening.”

“And you’re going to help her.”

Theo said nothing, but Malia could pick up the faint traces of embarrassment in his scent. Liam clearly did too, because a note of delight broke through the smell of shame.

“How domestic of you.”

“I could always use them to bury your body,” Theo suggested, and the fact that no one attacked him for that spoke volumes as to how much things had changed.

“Yeah, right.” Liam was smiling now, utterly unconcerned. “You’d miss me too much.”

Theo rolled his eyes but didn’t refute it.

“You guys all good?” Scott asked, determinedly cheerful. Liam’s scent dipped back into guilt when he met Scott’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, quiet. “I just—”

“It’s okay, Liam,” Scott said. Liam looked down, avoiding everyone’s eyes, and that was apparently too much for Scott. He moved forward and gathered Liam into a tight hug, Liam letting out a surprised noise as the air was, presumably, squeezed from his lungs.

Malia’s focus was drawn by Theo’s nearly inaudible sigh of relief. He was watching Liam and Scott, and Malia could see the tension draining from his frame.

He’d been afraid, Malia realized. Theo had been afraid for Liam, afraid that Scott would be angry or disappointed, because that would hurt Liam. That brought her back to her mid-confrontation realization that Theo—

Theo was Liam’s anchor.

Brutal, violent, manipulative Theo Raeken was Liam’s tether to rationality and humanity. Theo, who had played Liam like a puppet once upon a time, winding him up and setting him on a one-way path of destruction. It shouldn’t have been possible, but Malia knew what she had seen, what she had sensed.

Even now that Liam wasn’t on the brink of losing control, he still stepped back toward Theo when Scott released him. His scent was still laced with shame and the grief that had been present throughout the whole affair, but as he brushed his arm against Theo’s, it evened out into a fragile sort of steadiness. His heart was almost back down to its usual rate, now, but it skipped a beat when Theo nudged back.

“Drive me home?” Liam asked him.

“Oh, do I have a choice?” Theo sounded amused. “Usually you just hop in and throw out a destination.”

“Asshole,” Liam said fondly.

Theo heaved a sigh, fooling absolutely no one, and hooked a finger through Liam’s belt loop to tug him away.

“Let’s meet back at my place,” Scott suggested. Theo shot him an affirmative salute, and Liam glanced back over his shoulder.

“See you,” he called, and then: “Jesus, Theo, I’m coming.”

Theo’s finger, Malia noticed, was still slipped through Liam’s belt loop. Neither made any move to separate.

It wasn’t until they had disappeared through the treeline that Malia realized that she and Scott were apparently responsible for the unconscious hunter.

“Those little assholes,” she said as Scott heaved the hunter over his shoulder. “Theo has a truck.”

“Yeah, I think we got played.”

Scott had parked in the opposite direction when they’d all arrived for what should have been a routine patrol of the Preserve, following up on an unfamiliar scent Derek had picked up a few days ago. They were halfway to the Jeep when Malia judged that they were safely out of earshot and said, “Did you know Theo’s his anchor?”

Scott tripped over his own feet.

He recovered quickly, though, and said, almost to himself, “This explains a lot.”

“So you didn’t know?”

Scott threw his hands up as much as he could with the hunter’s deadweight on his shoulder. “I’ve never seen that happen before! I mean, I know Liam said Theo stopped him from hurting Gabe and Nolan, but I kind of thought he was exaggerating. Y’know, to make Theo look better or something. I didn’t think he literally stopped Liam from killing anyone.”

“Dumbass,” Malia said fondly.

“And just by talking to him,” Scott said. “I thought I was going to have to knock him out. I always forget how strong he is.”

Malia hummed.

“Honestly, I just thought Liam was his anchor,” Scott added. “I didn’t think it went both ways.”

“Dumbass,” she repeated.

-

Mason considered himself something of an expert on Liam Dunbar dumbassery. It came with the territory—you couldn’t be someone’s best friend for over a decade without watching them make a lot of stupid decisions. Mason had photographic evidence of a multitude of idiotic and embarrassing things Liam had done between the ages of twelve and seventeen alone.

Releasing the borderline-sociopathic chimera who had actively attempted to kill most, if not all, of them just months after they locked him away, though, had to be the worst offense.

Liam had very much not consulted Mason about his plan, probably because he knew that Mason would’ve shut that down in a heartbeat with one call to Scott. His explanation after the fact, once Mason had performed the requisite speechless hand-flailing, left much to be desired.

“We need to conduct the lighting somehow to catch a Ghost Rider,” Liam said, as though Mason was the one being unreasonable here.

Mason sputtered. “And you couldn’t have gone looking for a lighting rod? Or, like, anything else?”

“Well, we’re doing that now,” Liam said, sulkily. “We wouldn’t have had to if he’d actually managed to do it himself.”

He sent a pointed glare over his shoulder to where Theo Raeken himself sat on Liam’s living room couch. Mason had been determinedly not looking at him since he got here, took one glance at Theo, and promptly lost his shit.

Liam didn’t even have him restrained, how was Mason supposed to react? Mason knew he had chains. He could see the chains piled uselessly in Dr. Geyer’s favorite armchair. Liam was apparently banking on his superior werewolf senses to contain Theo if he decided to make a break for it and/or murder them, which Mason thought was bold coming from someone who took pride in having once fallen into a massive hole because he was incapable of walking and talking simultaneously.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Theo said. “Next time I end up in a supernatural prison, I’ll be sure to read the instruction manual on how to retain my powers.”

“Not really your powers, though, were they?” Mason asked pointedly, and then immediately regretted opening his mouth when Theo’s attention landed on him.

Liam snorted.

“Yeah, no, you’re not off the hook,” Mason told him. “‘You can kill whoever you want?’ Really? Did it not occur to you that he would take you up on that?”

“How do you even know about that?” Liam demanded, like that was even remotely the issue at hand. Mason knew about that because he had texted Hayden about two seconds after Liam mentioned her in his half-assed explanation as to what the hell Theo was doing in his living room:

WHAT THE FUCK

look i tried to stop him okay

Explain now

Leaning further against the armrest, posture lazy, Theo said, “Don’t worry, you’re not on my list.”

He flashed a sharp smile at Mason. Mason was not reassured at all, thanks.

“He’s not gonna kill anyone,” Liam said, glaring at Theo. “You’re not going to kill anyone. I have the sword, remember?”

Liam broke the sword.

Mason was going to develop an ulcer.

The fact that Theo had come through for them during the war did not, in Mason’s humble opinion, give Liam the grounds to be so unbearably smug about the whole affair. The most irritating part of it was that Mason couldn’t even tell him he was wrong when Liam, falsely innocent, pulled the well-it-turned-out-in-the-end card every time Mason attempted to revisit how incredibly idiotic the whole plan had been. It wasn’t like he wished Theo was back underground—well, not anymore—but the fact that Liam’s gamble had, in the absolute loosest sense of the word, worked had given Liam a dangerous amount of self-assurance with which to back up his stupidity. Mason was more than a little concerned that Liam would attempt to keep up his lucky streak, armed to the teeth with unholy confidence, and promptly get himself killed.

The only silver lining was that Theo, of all people, seemed equally convinced that Liam was going to run headfirst into disaster and had taken to following him around like a particularly standoffish guard dog, poised to bite anyone who got too close. Not that he had to work terribly hard at it, considering the way Liam dragged him along whenever he could get away with it, towing him around with a hand around his wrist and bullying him for rides to school and shoving him into booths first at diners and cafes so he had no means of escaping pack camaraderie. Theo had effectively attached himself to Liam’s side during the war and Liam seemed determined to keep him there, so Mason was at least confident that Theo would try and curb the worst of Liam’s recklessness.

Mason wasn’t sure he was entirely comfortable with Theo Raeken serving as his best friend’s impulse control and personal attack dog, but he would take what he could get. Theo at least had a better chance than Mason at corralling Liam, what with the fangs and claws and supernatural strength and everything.

So, naturally, when everything went to shit, Theo was nowhere to be found.

The worst part? Liam hadn’t even been looking for trouble, this time. He and Mason had been jogging—Liam dialing his speed back significantly, for which Mason was grateful—when Liam’s head snapped to the side, and the next thing he knew, Liam was tackling him to the ground as bullets tore through the air above them.

“Are you hurt?” Liam demanded, eyes fierce when Mason dazedly met his gaze.

“All good,” Mason said faintly.

Liam hauled him to his feet, whirling to place himself in front of Mason, and then there were hunters on all sides, boxing them in, and then there was a hard blow to the side of his head, and then there was a furious roar and then there was nothing at all.

Mason came to with a gasp, Liam’s roar echoing in his mind. There was a fierce ache at his temple, where the hunter had hit him, but he ignored it, struggling to sit up. Scott was crouched in front of him, and Mason could see Theo pacing frantically over his shoulder.

Liam wasn’t there.

Liam wasn’t there.

“Are you okay?” Scott was asking, concern writ all over his face, and Mason lurched forward, fighting to stand. Scott steadied him with a hand on his shoulder, helping him to his feet as Mason said, “Oh my God, we have to find Liam—”

“What the fuck happened?” Theo demanded, and he sounded furious, but Mason didn’t think the anger was aimed at him. “Mason, what happened?”

Mason tried to swallow down his rising panic, meeting Theo’s eyes. His stare was as desperate as Mason’s own must be, and he looked like he was struggling to contain himself, which was terrifying all on its own, because Theo never lost control.

“Hunters,” he managed. “We were jogging, and they just—they just came out of nowhere. There were so many of them, like, at least a dozen. They knocked me out, and then—”

He gestured, a little hysterically, around himself and at Scott and Theo. “I have no idea where they took him, or if he’s even—”

He cut himself off again, unwilling to even give voice to the darkest fear in the back of his mind. Theo looked impossibly more furious, and Scott’s face was set in uncharacteristic anger.

“We have to find him,” Scott said. “We will find him. We need to call the others—Malia and Derek and Peter will have heard him howl, they should be on their way, but we need to call everyone and get them to—Theo?”

Theo had evidently run out of patience and was stripping his shirt off, and Mason blinked a few times. He always forgot how ridiculously buff Theo was, and this was definitely not the time to be checking him out, but the small part of his brain not consumed by dread made a mental note to gossip about it with Corey later. God, he really needed Corey, right now.

“I’m not waiting around for everyone to show up,” Theo said, and yep, that was definitely a growl lurking under the words. He tossed his shirt carelessly aside and immediately went for his jeans, and Mason determinedly kept his eyes on Theo’s face. “I’m finding him now.”

“You can’t go after him on your own,” Scott started, but then Theo was naked, and that was a lot of bare skin to avoid looking at, Jesus Christ. When—when, not if—they recovered Liam, Mason was absolutely going to tell Corey about this. “Theo, just wait, you can’t—”

“Watch me,” Theo said, and shifted. The second his forepaws hit the ground, he was streaking off into the forest in a blur of black fur.

Scott visibly warred between chasing after him and staying put, but then he looked back to Mason, eyes flicking to the blood at his temple. He deflated all at once, looking so overwhelmed that Mason swallowed reflexively.

“You need to get that looked at,” he said, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I’ll—I’ll take you to my mom, and we can…”

He shifted his gaze to meet Mason’s, and he could see his own desperation reflected in Scott’s eyes.

“We’ll find him,” Mason said, trying for confident and failing miserably. “We have to. Right?”

“Yeah,” Scott said, “we’ll find him,” and called Melissa.

Mason was sulking on a hospital cot, Corey at his side pressing an ice pack firmly against the side of his head and preventing him from making a break for it and joining the others in searching for his best fucking friend, when his phone rang, cutting Corey off in the middle of his third gentle reminder that Mason would be more of a liability than anything else.

It was Scott.

“We found him,” Scott said the moment the call connected. “Or, Theo did. He’s…alive. He’s gonna be okay, Mason.”

Mason heard everything Scott wasn’t saying, heard hours of pain and blood in Scott’s hesitation, and said, “Tell me where.”

Scott didn’t bother trying to talk him into staying at the hospital, which was good, because Mason might actually have snapped if he tried. “Theo’s bringing him to the animal clinic, we’re all going to meet them there.”

Mason hung up without saying anything else, which he would probably feel bad about once he had confirmed Liam was safe with his own two eyes, and launched himself to his feet.

“Mason, wait,” Corey said, jogging a few paces to keep up with Mason as he charged out of his hospital room. Mason whirled on him, ready to argue that by no means was he staying put when Liam was definitely injured and hurting, but Corey just held out his hand.

“Give me your keys,” he said. “You can’t drive with a concussion.”

Mason stared at him, then said, “I love you so much.”

Corey always drove a little too fast for Mason’s comfort, but he outdid himself on the drive to the clinic. For once, though, Mason didn’t mind the fact that they were edging into reckless driving territory. He had to actively resist the urge to encourage Corey to run every red light and stop sign if it would get them to Liam faster.

Of course, when they arrived, beating the others by a solid fifteen minutes, Liam wasn’t even there. Mason had no idea where Theo had found him, but he hoped it was far enough away to warrant the delay; the alternative reasons they might be moving slowly were too upsetting to consider.

When all the shapeshifters in the room stiffened simultaneously a few minutes after Peter and Lydia filtered in, Mason knew Theo and Liam had entered hearing range and had to restrain himself from sprinting outside to intercept them. That wouldn’t do anything except get himself killed, probably, for charging Theo unexpectedly.

When Theo got through the front doors, bearing an unconscious Liam in his arms, Mason was glad for his own restraint, because holy shit, he absolutely would’ve gotten his head torn off. Theo looked feral, shirtless and covered in blood. His fangs were out, but his nails remained blunt, for which Mason was grateful, given how tightly he was clutching Liam.

“Oh my God,” someone exclaimed. It might have been Mason, for all he knew, fixated on the terrible way Liam’s arm dangled limply in the air. He was covered in blood, too, which made it highly likely that the blood on Theo was Liam’s, which made Mason want to murder someone, because that was so much blood.

Scott moved to take Liam from Theo, and Theo snarled, hitching Liam impossibly closer.

He seemed to shock himself with the sound, blinking once before retracting his fangs with visible effort. Scott had tensed reflexively, but held his hands up placatingly when Theo looked back at him, semi-apologetic.

“We need to bring him to the back,” he said urgently. “Deaton needs to look at him.”

Theo looked around the room like he was only just realizing he and Liam weren’t the only ones occupying it. Malia looked ready to cross the room and put herself between Theo and Scott, but Lydia’s hand on her arm held her back. Stiles had one hand to his mouth, the other fumbling to land repeatedly on Derek’s arm. Derek, for his part, was making a valiant effort at maintaining a neutral facade despite the tension at the corners of his mouth, while Peter appeared genuinely unaffected. At Mason’s side, Corey held tightly to his hand, probably fearing that Mason would make a grab for Liam, too, and wind up with Theo’s claws at his throat.

And Mason—

Mason was frozen, all his attention still caught on that limp arm.

“Yeah,” Theo said, tightening his grip on Liam. “Yeah, just—”

He strode forward, pushing past the rest of the pack with such single-minded intensity that Malia had to tug Lydia out of the way of the door to the examination room.

Mason was right on his heels, dragging Corey along in his wake, and the others rushed to follow as Theo got to the exam table, Deaton waiting calmly alongside it. It took Theo a moment to put Liam down, and when he did, it was with such care that Mason almost wanted to look away. He felt like an intruder, like he was witnessing something shockingly intimate in the way Theo’s hand shook as he brushed a lock of hair away from Liam’s face. He lingered there for a moment, fingers grazing the curve of Liam’s ear, before turning to face the rest of the pack.

Mason really did have to look away, then. Theo looked wrecked, blown open and vulnerable for a scant few moments before he locked his expression back down. He had never seen Theo so out of control, and decided then and there that he never wanted to see it again. He didn’t even want to think about the state Theo must have found Liam in, to have his control dangling by a fraying thread like that.

“Theo,” Deaton said evenly, hands flying to cut Liam’s blood-soaked shirt off him. “Were there any traces of wolfsbane in his wounds, when you found him? Any other toxins?”

Theo dragged his gaze away from where it had fallen, seemingly helplessly, back to Liam on the operating table. His voice was detached enough that Mason knew he was fighting to control himself as he said, “Purple wolfsbane in the bullet wounds, but not in the gashes. I burned it out. He’d ingested some mountain ash, think they made him swallow it. I made him throw it back up, but there could still be traces in his system. And they had an IV in him, the modified wolfsbane the Doctors used as a sedative. It should be out of his system soon.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, past the horror suffusing every part of him, Mason thought there was something important about that, but he was too sick with rage and fear to puzzle it out.

Deaton nodded, tugging the cut sides of Liam’s shirt away from his chest. At Scott’s right shoulder, Stiles gagged, his hand returning to cover his mouth, and Mason had to fight down the temptation to do the same. Liam’s torso was a mess of half-healed gashes, and even through the blood Mason could tell they were parallel, methodical, ruling out any hope he had that these were defensive wounds.

This wasn’t a fight, this was torture.

Scott stared down at Liam’s prone form, looking heartbroken and angry all at once, before collecting himself enough to nudge Stiles away from the table, backing up a few paces and quietly prompting everyone else to do the same, to give Deaton room to work. Corey had to tug Mason back when he didn’t immediately move, and Theo didn’t move at all, planted firmly at Liam’s side. He met Scott’s eyes, desperate and challenging all at once, and Scott sighed.

“The hunters?” he asked. There was concern in his voice, and Mason knew why—Theo had stormed in here, furious and snarling and covered in blood of dubious origins, after all—but part of him wanted to scream at Scott that whatever Theo had done to the hunters, they had deserved.

“They’ll live,” Theo said shortly, returning his focus to Liam. “Called Argent to deal with it.”

Scott nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing a fraction, and they all lapsed into silence as they watched Deaton clean Liam up enough to inspect his wounds.

Finally, he straightened. Mason held his breath, thought the rest of the pack might be doing the same.

“He’ll be alright,” Deaton said, and the room breathed a collective sigh of relief. “You did well in flushing the toxins from his system, Theo.”

Theo didn’t react beyond a short nod, still staring at Liam’s slack features. As the pack exploded into noise, thank God and what do we do now and I swear to God I’m gonna kill them, Theo remained still for several long moments.

All at once, Theo shuddered, closing his eyes and pressing the heels of his hands firmly against them. He stayed like that for a second, two, before dropping his arms and leaning heavily against the table. He was still shirtless—and, now that he thought about it, Mason wondered where in the hell he’d acquired pants—and didn’t seem to be in any hurry to change that, or to clean the blood off of himself. Mason dropped Corey’s hand, earning himself a bemused and slightly concerned glance, and made his way to the cabinet Deaton kept stocked full of emergency supplies actually designed for humans and human-shaped supernaturals.

Theo didn’t look up when Mason approached him, so he cleared his throat. Theo dragged his gaze up to meet his, expression carefully guarded once again as though he could wipe everyone’s memories of how thoroughly he’d already shown his hand. Mason had known that Theo was basically in love with Liam, had known that Liam was pretty obsessed with Theo, too, but he had never seen the chimera demonstrate it so obviously before.

If the two of them didn’t pull their heads out of their asses after this, Mason was going to do something drastic, like locking them in a room together or possibly hurling himself off a cliff.

“Here,” he said, offering Theo a pack of wet wipes. He took them, albeit slowly. “You’ve got a little—uh—kind of everywhere, man.”

Theo glanced down at himself like he hadn’t noticed the gore coating his entire torso, his hands.

“Thanks,” he said, stiltedly. He didn’t move to clean himself up, but Mason forged ahead.

“And here.” He offered Theo a simple cotton shirt he’d found in Deaton’s oh shit cabinet. “This is a family-friendly establishment, you know.”

He almost grimaced at the forced humor in his own voice, but Theo’s lips twitched minutely, so, success, or whatever. He returned to Corey feeling slightly victorious.

An hour later, Peter had gone home when it became clear that Liam wasn’t in any immediate danger, and Scott had sent Stiles and Derek on a food run when Stiles wouldn’t stop pacing and fidgeting and generally making everyone anxious. The rest of the pack had dragged in chairs from the waiting area and settled in for the long haul, crowding the small examination room. Theo had, predictably, dragged his chair to Liam’s side, where he resumed his silent vigil. Mason was tempted to do the same, but Corey dragged him over to settle down by Lydia in the corner. It was probably for the best—Mason would only drive himself to insanity staring at Liam and fixating on his slowly-healing wounds. Lydia and Corey kept him engaged in light, steady conversation despite their own anxiety, and he loved them fiercely.

Theo inhaled sharply, loud enough for even Mason to hear, and all heads turned to him.

And then, following his gaze, to Liam.

“Hey, guys,” Liam said, clearly dazed. “Wassup?”

“You idiot,” Theo snapped, as the pack clamored toward them. “You goddamn idiot, you almost died.”

Liam sat up and blinked a few times in rapid succession before managing to focus on Theo’s face. “I’m the idiot? You asshole, you ran into that warehouse alone and unarmed. You could have died.”

“I don’t care. Liam, you almost—”

Theo cut himself off sharply. Mason suspected his voice was about to fail him.

Liam’s face softened. “I’m okay,” he said, and Mason was right back to feeling like a voyeur at the look on his face, but Liam had almost died, so he wasn’t going to be taking his eyes off him anytime soon, thanks. “You got me out.”

Theo’s grip on the edge of the operating table was tight, knuckles white. Liam must have noticed, because he reached out and took one of Theo’s hands in his, lacing their fingers together. Theo’s eyes went wide and he glanced around at the pack like he was nervous they were witnessing this, or maybe to double check that he wasn’t imagining it. Whatever he was looking for, it probably wasn’t the smug smile on Corey’s face, or Lydia’s quiet satisfaction. He looked back at Liam, who was now directing his gaze to the rest of their friends. His face went slack with relief when he caught sight of Mason, and Mason was abruptly reminded that Liam had probably been nearly as scared for Mason as Mason had been for him.

“Hey, man,” Scott said, gently ruffling Liam’s hair. “You had us worried, there.”

“Sorry about that,” Liam said. “If it helps, I was not having a good time either.”

“It doesn’t, thanks,” Mason said, and Liam grinned at him. He was still holding Theo’s hand, and Mason nodded at the point of contact, raising a brow at Liam. Liam flushed pink, but made no move to untangle their fingers. Mason smirked at him, and Liam went even pinker, refusing to meet his eyes.

He still didn’t let go of Theo’s hand, and Theo kept staring at Liam with that wondering expression.

“So is this a thing now?” Malia asked, blunt as ever. “Or are we still supposed to pretend that—”

“Malia!” Lydia hissed, scandalized. Liam’s face was scarlet, now, and Theo finally took his eyes off him to glare daggers at Malia.

“What?”

Stiles picked that moment to swan back into the room empty-handed, Derek following behind him laden down with takeout containers and a long-suffering expression. When he saw Liam awake, he shrieked, and Mason noticed both Scott and Malia wince. Derek ignored him entirely, nodding amicably at Liam before setting about finding a flat surface where he could unload his cargo.

“You!” Stiles exclaimed, pointing an indignant finger at Scott. “You were supposed to text me if he woke up! Oh my God, Liam, dude, are you okay? You looked like something out of a slasher movie when Theo brought you in here—”

He then appeared to notice Liam’s flushed cheeks and the hand he still had linked with Theo’s, and squawked so loudly that even Mason winced.

“I was only gone for half an hour, why does this always happen—”

Mason tuned out the ensuing rant, returning his focus to Liam, who was also ignoring Stiles in favor of using their joined hands to tug Theo up and out of his chair.

“Hi,” he said when Theo was standing.

“Hi,” Theo said, bemused.

“So,” Liam said, shifting nervously where he sat on the table. “Is it? A thing now, I mean?”

Theo stared at him, then jerked his gaze around at the rest of the pack. Stiles trailed off mid-complaint when he realized no one was paying him any attention, joining the others in watching Theo as he turned back to Liam. He murmured something too quietly for Mason to pick up on, but whatever it was made Scott smile fondly and Malia scoff with no heat. Derek was still playing Tetris with the takeout, ignoring them all.

Whatever it was made Liam say, “Oh thank God,” lean forward, and kiss him.

The room exploded into such fanfare that even Derek turned around, rolling his eyes and returning to his task without comment.

-

It might have taken him a while, but Scott had known something was going on between Liam and Theo. Liam was his first beta, his only bitten beta—he was protective of him to a perfectly reasonable degree, no matter what Stiles said. So of course he paid Liam enough attention to pick up on the feelings he was very obviously developing for Theo—sue him for being too preoccupied with the actual war they were fighting to put the pieces together immediately. They couldn’t all be geniuses, Stiles.

The point was, he had figured it out fairly quickly after they defeated the Anuk-ite and ran Monroe out of town. He hadn’t known how to feel about it, initially; he would be the first—or second, anyway, after Liam—to acknowledge that Theo seemed to have changed, that he’d helped them when he didn’t have to and was trying to make up for his past transgressions, but the guy had killed him. It wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to forget.

Scott didn’t think Theo would do anything to hurt them, not intentionally, not anymore. Still, there were plenty of ways he could hurt Liam without ever raising a hand to him, even if he didn’t mean to. Liam had been despondent when Hayden moved away, and Scott had never seen him look at her the way he sometimes caught him looking at Theo in the months following the war. If Theo ran off again like he did after they defeated Douglas and the Ghost Riders, Liam would be heartbroken, and then Scott would have to hunt Theo down and break his own long-standing rule against murdering people, and then his mom would probably cry and he might go to jail or something, but it would simply have to be done.

A perfectly reasonable degree, honestly.

So, yeah, he was a little wary of Liam’s ever-increasing attachment to Theo. The concern abated to some degree when he started having suspicions that Liam might be Theo’s anchor, then intensified tenfold when he realized that Theo had definitely become Liam’s anchor. Now, if Theo cut ties and ran, Liam would be heartbroken and out of control, and then Scott would have to deal with that on top of the whole murdering Theo errand.

And then Liam was captured, and Theo went berserk, and the next time Scott saw them, Theo was spiraling out of control in a way Scott had never seen before—not even when Theo was out there murdering people, Scott included—and all of a sudden they were kissing in the crowded animal clinic, and Scott knew there was no coming back from this for either of them.

It was a relief, honestly. Liam was an all-or-nothing kind of guy; once he decided someone was worth caring about, he threw himself heartfirst into stubborn affection. Scott could personally attest to this, having experienced Liam’s helpless, uncontrollable rage on that one memorable occasion when Hayden was dying and Theo was evil.

He really preferred not to think of that incident for a multitude of obvious reasons.

Still, as he watched Theo’s hands come up to grasp desperately at Liam’s jaw, only to pause their ascent and cup Liam’s face so, so carefully, Scott couldn’t help but think that Liam might have managed to stumble blindly into the only person who might match him for intensity, and he was glad for it.

When they separated, Liam grinning like a loon and Theo failing to hide his blush, Scott smiled at them both.

“I’m happy for you,” he said, cutting off Mason and Corey’s victorious whoops and Stiles’s faux-annoyed no one needed to see that. “Both of you.”

He made sure to meet Theo’s eyes, nodding in acceptance and reassurance both. Theo’s scent was locked down, had been since it surged into shock and joy and what Scott thought was probably love when Liam kissed him, but Scott didn’t need his nose to catch the rapid flickering of guilt-surprise-gratitude across his face. He nodded once, tentative, and Scott didn’t hesitate to nod back, smiling carefully at him.

Scott didn’t think he imagined the tiny upturn of Theo’s lips in return.

Eventually, the pack quieted enough for Lydia to be heard when she said, “So, Monroe has Dread Doctor tech. We should probably deal with that.”

“Oh,” Mason said, in a tone of sudden realization. “I knew something was off about that.”

Scott wasn’t even surprised when Theo called him the next day.

“Listen, are you free right now?” he asked in lieu of returning Scott’s greeting. “I was going to head to the operating theater.”

“Liam’s at school,” Scott hedged, although Theo had to know that already, given that he had long since become Liam’s designated chauffeur. It had been decided, once Lydia dropped that revelation on the pack, that Theo would make a trip to the Dread Doctors’ Beacon Hills operating theater to assess what may or may not have been taken by Monroe and her henchmen. He had admitted that there were several others in the States he could personally confirm the Dread Doctors had worked out of in the past decade, but given that he was probably the only person alive who knew their locations, it was much more likely that Monroe had gotten lucky and stumbled across it while exploring the sewers of Beacon Hills.

“It’s where they kept him,” Theo said, shortly. “He doesn’t need to go back down there.”

To no one’s surprise, Liam had immediately insisted upon accompanying Theo to the operating theater and refused to take no for an answer, despite Theo’s repeated attempts to talk him out of it. Scott couldn’t say he blamed Theo for going behind Liam’s back, just this once, but—

“He won’t be happy.”

Theo didn’t offer any further insight, just waited silently on the end of the line for Scott to decide. Scott eventually capitulated, as Theo must have known he would—there was very little Scott wouldn’t do in order to keep Liam safe and as untraumatized as possible, though that was something of an impossibility by this point. It was the first common ground he’d found with Theo, after everything: they would both do anything for Liam, up to and including making peace with each other.

He sighed. “Fine. But you have to explain this to him when he finds out and tears me a new one.”

“Deal,” Theo said instantly. “I’ll pick you up in five?”

He hung up before Scott had the chance to reply. Scott heaved another sigh, then unfolded himself from his couch and went to locate his sneakers.

Theo arrived four minutes later, and Scott was almost offended that Theo had clearly already been on his way and had apparently never questioned whether Scott would go along with his scheme. As it was, he found it rather endearing, that Theo was evidently so antsy to get this over with before Liam could find out and intercept them, possibly traumatizing himself in the process.

He would never tell Theo that, though. He liked his nose unbroken.

The drive to the water plant was mostly quiet, but not uncomfortable. Every so often, Scott caught Theo glancing at him, like he wanted to break the silence but wasn’t sure what to say. Or maybe he was just anxious, being in such close proximity to Scott. Scott couldn’t confirm from experience, but he imagined that it was probably awkward to find yourself alone in a moving vehicle with no more than a foot between you and the person you’d murdered in an ill-conceived quest for power and subsequently been imprisoned by.

Just a guess.

“So,” Scott said, injecting as much forced cheer into his voice as he could manage. “How was the rest of your night?”

Theo’s eyes slid over to the passenger seat, vaguely incredulous.

“Quiet,” he said, drily. “There was significantly less shrieking once we got h—back to Liam’s.”

Scott blinked, but otherwise tried not to react visibly to Theo’s near-slip. He knew, they all knew, that Theo had been staying with Liam and his parents ever since Liam found out that Theo had been living out of his truck since his return to society. Liam had been furious, anger and guilt feeding off of each other until he was practically shouting in Theo’s face in Scott’s living room. Theo’s bewildered I didn’t think it was relevant hadn’t done much to defuse the situation, though it had filled Scott with guilt as heavy as he imagined a boulder would feel to a human.

In the end, Theo was press-ganged into moving into the Geyers’ spare room, and Scott and the others had had to get used to the two of them smelling like each other all the time.

“I’ll bet,” he said aloud. He laughed, just a little, and said, “Stiles didn’t calm down for, like, half an hour after you guys left. Derek literally walked out and it took him another ten minutes to notice. Apparently he made it halfway back to his apartment before Stiles picked him up off the side of the road.”

“That mad, huh?”

Theo’s voice was even, but when Scott looked to his left, taken aback, his hands were tight on the steering wheel. Scott wanted to rush to correct him, but that would only make Theo more tense. He still didn’t quite believe that the pack had forgiven him, Scott knew. It drove Liam nuts, sent him to Scott’s house to rant and plot at least twice a month.

Scott tried for casual when he said, “Definitely. If you guys had waited another two weeks, you’d have made him fifty bucks.”

He watched as Theo visibly restrained himself from turning to look at Scott. His hands flexed against the steering wheel before relaxing, and Scott mentally congratulated himself.

“Sucks for him,” was all Theo said. “Who won?”

“Lydia,” Scott said, resigned, and Theo actually huffed a small laugh at that.

“Of course.”

The air in the cab was lighter, after that, and Scott couldn’t help but feel proud.

Of course, it all went downhill when they arrived at the power plant and found Liam waiting for them, but the easy camaraderie was nice while it lasted.

When Theo parked his truck and Liam came to stand in front of it, face already set in a scowl, Scott and Theo shared a wordless glance that communicated, quite clearly, their mutual sense of oh shit.

“I knew you would pull something like this,” Liam said as Scott and Theo very reluctantly hopped out of the truck. “You’re not nearly as sneaky as you think you are, you asshole.”

“You’re supposed to be in class,” Scott said, aiming for stern but mostly failing as Liam turned his glare on him.

“I called in sick last night, that’s how sure I was that Theo would decide to be an idiot,” Liam said.

“What? I was with you last night, how did you even manage–”

Liam cut Theo off with a terse, “Are we doing this, or what?”

He turned on his heel and stomped toward the water plant without another word, and Scott exchanged another look with Theo, this one of mingled dread and sheepishness.

It was strange, being in cahoots with Theo, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Scott thought, as they began to trudge after Liam, that he wouldn’t mind experiencing it again under better circumstances.

When they caught up to him, just beginning the descent into the sewer system, Theo caught Liam’s wrist. He gave Scott a glance that, coming from anyone else, Scott would describe as pleading, and Scott took the hint and continued to move forward as the two came to a halt.

“You don’t have to be here for this,” Theo said, lowly. Scott’s supernatural hearing meant he could hear every word perfectly, but he supposed even the illusion of privacy was better than nothing. “I’m serious, Liam. Go back and wait in the truck, I’ll drive you back to school after I’m done.”

“Are you kidding me?” Liam hissed back. Scott heard a single shuffling step, and assumed Liam had tugged his wrist free of Theo’s grasp. “It’s fine for you to risk your life, but I can’t? Fuck you, Theo.”

“I’m not risking my life,” Theo snapped back.

“Then why don’t you want me to come?”

“Because they abducted you and kept you here, Liam,” Theo said all at once, a furious whisper Scott actually had to strain to hear as he moved further into the tunnels. “Don’t be an idiot, you don’t have to retraumatize yourself to prove a point. You were literally tortured yesterday, you dumbass.”

His tone had softened significantly by the end of his speech. There were a few breaths of silence, and then Liam said, quietly, “The Dread Doctors had me for a few hours. They had you for years, Theo. You’re not going back down there without me.”

“It’s not the same,” Theo insisted. “I wasn’t a prisoner, I was—”

He cut himself off.

Liam said, “Weren’t you?”

More silence, and then Scott heard two sets of footsteps heading his way.

When Theo and Liam reappeared, they were holding hands, and Scott did his best to hold back a smile.

Theo wouldn’t meet his eyes, but Liam just gave him a challenging sort of look. “Well?” he said, swinging his and Theo’s joined hands in the small space between them. “Let’s go, I have a quiz in fifth period.”

Scott shook his head, and then he really couldn’t restrain a smile.

Yeah, he thought, as all three of them resumed their trek into the depths of the Beacon Hills sewer system. Liam was going to be alright. Liam and Theo were going to be alright.

It was more than enough for him.