He calls himself Damien.

"That is fake! That is so totally fake!" is Stiles' professional opinion. "There is no way that's the guy's real name!"

The point is, there's a guy and he totally lives up to the semi-evil sounding name he gave Scott the first time they met. He's a necromancer.

"Don't look at me," is all Lydia has to say. "I know when death's coming, I don't know when it's coming undone."

He's also in high school. Of course. Don't any supernatural beings grow up?

Scott says that. Peter makes a joke about his youthful complexion and Chris gets really uncomfortable. They drop the issue in favor of the other supernatural crisis at hand. Because it could never just be one, could it?

It's all fine until some students gets locked in this historical building during a field trip. The murderer, the one Scott and Peter and Chris were trying to talk about that one time, is there.

Later, Lydia says it felt like finding Peter's corpse. Stiles holds her hand and doesn't say a word.

Damien, it turns out, doesn't have any problem killing people so he can use them for his own twisted needs. Those three were the only ones to walk out of that house alive.

So a week later, when the lights go out in the locker room and Scott turns to find Damien - scrawny, unassuming Damien who kills people so he can turn them into his own personal puppets - he's a little ticked off. This state of mind makes it difficult for him to grasp what Damien opens with.

"You want what?" Scott asks, surprise driving the red from his eyes.

"Protection," Damien says, like it's obvious, like it's easy. "Isn't that why everyone comes to Beacon Hills? The protection of the true alpha?"

Or to kill him, Scott thinks but he doesn't want to give this guy any ideas so he keeps it to himself.

Damien comes closer, all wide eyes and hero worship. Scott doesn't want anyone's worship, least of all Damien's. He stands his ground and does his best approximation of Derek's angry face. (The variation without the teeth and glowing eyes.)

"My power isn't a hammer, it's …" Damien struggles for a metaphor. Scott's got a few choice suggestions but they all seem a little too on the nose. "It's the blueprint!" Damien finishes with a proud smile. "So I need someone with a hammer to … well, to keep other guys with hammers from clubbing me to death."

Scott raises an eyebrow as the metaphor falls apart. It takes some of the wind out of Damien's sails.

"I'm not empty-handed though!" Damien insists, totally misreading the source of Scott's disdain. "I wouldn't dream of coming to you with nothing to offer. And this is just the tip of the iceberg!"

"I don't want anything you can offer me," Scott says in what Stiles has taken to calling his alpha voice. Instead of intimidating Damien, it bolsters him. His smile grows and Scott's stomach roils. When did the air go so stale?

"Oh, I think you do."

Damien steps aside and gestures to a moonlit stretch of floor. A pair of boots appears first, coming around the next aisle. They shouldn't be enough but they are. Scott's heart pounds in his ears. The world is tipping wildly so that by the time she's fully illuminated he wonders how they're all still upright.

"Allison," he breathes. Like a curse. Like a prayer.

"I thought you'd like her."