Title: Blue & Gold
Series: Unbalanced (1 of 3)
Category: Teen Wolf/Smallville
Genre: Romance/Drama
Ship: Chloe Sullivan/Derek Hale
Chapter Rating: PG-13/Teen
Overall Rating: NC-17/Explicit
Word Count: 1,992
Summary: The day Chloe was born, a prophecy was made and her destiny was laid out for her. "The White Wolf. Bound to the Broken Boy. Destined to meet a Demon Wolf. The hells will rain pain like no other but she will survive. She will fight. And when the day comes, she will bring order again." [Chloe Sullivan/Derek Hale - Part One of the Unbalanced Series]

Blue & Gold

Prologue.

The scent of wild flowers was heavy on the breeze, sweet and calming. She laid atop a grass hill, a perfect circle of lilacs surrounding her. May's Flower Moon was high in the sky, shining down brilliantly on the group below. Wolves moved together, bound hand-in-hand, forming a circle around Moira as she lay panting in the center, a sheen of sweat making her skin glisten. Her dark hair was plastered to her face, her eyes snapped from their natural pale blue to a bright alpha red with each painful contraction that shook her frame. Her head fell back as she screamed, a howl preceding it, making the birds scatter from the branches of the trees.

The chanting was loud, it was all she could hear besides the thud, thud, thud of her quickening heartbeat. The grass was prickly against her skin, making her itchy though she could barely find the energy to scratch. A cool breeze rushed past her that would have made any human shiver but it only helped to bring down the temperature of her skin a few necessary degrees. It was a tradition to greet a new child in the same state as them, so she was glad her daughter wasn't coming in February, like her brother had.

Bo's birth had been complicated from the start, with snow cluttering the ground beneath her, chilling her almost too much to bear. But tonight, her naked body didn't have to suffer the cold water of the ground lapping at her skin, only the bite of prickly grass. She wiggled, trying to get more comfortable, and let out a low groan of irritation. But the chanting didn't slow, no attention was given to her directly. This moment was for her to commune with the moon, to ask that it grace her daughter with the same lupine powers she and her pack possessed. It was further important due to her husband being a human, making the chances of their daughter a born wolf only fifty percent. She wouldn't love her any less if she wasn't, but being a wolf was a gift, and she wanted her daughter to have it.

The warmth of a hand on her shoulder caught her attention and she let her head fall back, caught between a smile and a grimace as Gabe bent to sit behind her, inviting her to lean against him.

"It's not safe for you," she reminded, though it didn't stop her from letting her weight rest against his chest, her hands gripping the legs of his pants. With the pain coming and going as it was, it wasn't uncommon for a birthing mother to shift and attack whatever was nearest her. It wouldn't be as bad if Gabe was a wolf, he would suffer, sure, but he would heal. Most humans wouldn't take their chances. However, Gabe was an emissary, or he was before he married her, and so he trusted wolves and his wife more than any natural human could.

"I won't miss the birth of my daughter," he replied in a calm, even tone.

She chuckled, her head falling to his shoulder. "Don't you know you're not supposed to question your alpha, husband?"

He grinned, pressing a kiss to her sweaty, flushed cheek. "I don't think you'd like me half as much if I didn't."

She smiled, staring up at him. "You think I married you for your debate skills?"

"That, and, for a human, I have surprising stamina in bed."

Her laugh echoed around her and her body relaxed along with it. She could still feel their daughter, eager to get out, but she didn't feel so uncomfortable, so tense. Just a few feet away, Bo was sitting curled up in a ball, his arms locked around his legs. He had already shifted, unable to help himself, and so his angular face was patchy with fur, his teeth long and biting into his lower lip, his eyes a bright gold, reflecting in the dark.

Gabe's hand smoothed over Moira's rounded stomach, drawing her attention away from their first born. "How's our girl?" he wondered, his thumb stroking lightly.

"Eager," Moira answered, her toes curling into the earth as she prepared for another contraction. "I think she takes after you."

He chuckled lowly. "I think you mean 'impatient,' and in that case, she's more you than you think."

She rolled her eyes up at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That she's two weeks early, and that's as much you as it is her."

"The only thing I'm impatient for is this pain to stop." She gritted her teeth and dug her fingers into the ground, her nails scoring through dirt and grass and tearing it up as she panted through the agony ricocheting through her lower body and up her spine.

When it finally stopped, she shook her head, exhausted. "How much longer?" she moaned, trying to catch her breath.

Gabe stroked her hair back from her face. "When the medicine woman says it's time, it's time."

"I don't need her to tell me it's time to push, Gabriel!" she exclaimed.

"We agreed she would help you birth this time," he reminded. "After the complications with Bo…"

"I would have healed," she argued.

"You might have, but Bo wouldn't have been so lucky. He was being choked by the umbilical cord…" He shook his head. "We can't take that risk again."

Moira sighed, nodding silently.

Nearby, the medicine woman danced around a fire, chanting words of her own that seemed to feed the flames. She plucked lilacs from the ground around her and tossed them into the fire as she continued to dance, the feathers of her headdress moving along with her. Nya was a spirit talker who reached out from the Native American wolf tribes to help the other packs in their search of higher understanding. It was said she conversed directly with the spirits of past, present and future and could, if she wanted to, tell a wolf what his or her destiny would be. But Nya rarely shared her sight, instead merely helping expectant mothers to birth their children. It was too risky to take them to a hospital, where the pain could cause them to shift. And while emissaries could offer knowledge and herbs to ease some of the pain, they were not properly trained for this. Nya often separated herself from the term 'doula' but she was the most sought after medicine woman when it came to labor.

Suddenly, the fire she had been dancing around flared up high and turned an eye-catching shade of purple before it flickered back to orange. She came running toward them then, far more graceful than a woman her age was expected to be, feathers dancing frantically around her head. She ducked under the arms of the chanting wolves to fall on her knees in front of Moira. "It's now. The pup is coming now. You must not wait!" she ordered.

"Finally," Moira muttered before shifting herself up a little on Gabe.

"Push, wolf mother, push now!"

Though it was rare that she followed someone else's direction, Moira took her advice and bore down, her knees pulled up and spread.

"Yes, yes, that's it."

Several minutes passed, however, of her trying to push and receiving little result. "She's not coming. Please… Please, something must be wrong."

"No, no, this one is born of blood. She is a fighter. She will not fall."

Moira stared at her, blinking against the stinging sweat that kept dripping into her eyes. Her whole body hurt, from head to toe, and it was hard to concentrate on what the woman was telling her, what she was muttering under her breath.

"What?" she asked. "What are you saying?"

"The golden child will be born. She'll know love, know knowledge, she'll excel above others. She will blur the line between wolf and druid. She will be a new breed. A new wolf. A power like no other!" She let out a giggle, half insane in her excitement. "The White Wolf. Bound to the Broken Boy. Destined to meet a Demon Wolf. The hells will rain pain like no other but she will survive. She will fight. And when the day comes, she will bring order again."

Moira stared at her, dizzy and confused. "Wh-what?" she panted.

"Birth her now, wolf mother. Or she will die before she lives."

While she hadn't understood most of what the woman said, she did understand that. Pulling her knees back, she took in a deep breath and pushed. She pushed until her lungs, her heart, her entire body shook with the effort. And finally, finally, a cry rang out.

Moira watched, smiling tiredly, as her daughter was raised up to meet the moon, her dark eyes flashing a brilliant gold as she opened them to greet the world. She was lowered, laying in the crook of the medicine woman's arm, who dug her hand into a deer skin bag at her hip and drew a triskele in purple dust along her small chest. The wolves around them threw back their heads and howled, welcoming another to their line. The power that had filled the hill all seemed to crackle in the air then and, one by one, each wolf walked by the medicine woman to gently touch the baby's head, a sign of acceptance, of love and loyalty, and then they filed out, making their way back to the house, where the birth would be celebrated with food and dancing.

The baby gave another cry then, squirming in the hands that held her, and only calmed when the medicine woman finally laid her in her mother's arms, her head resting atop her breast. Moira cupped her tiny head, her skin red and puckered, and felt a tear slip down her cheek as she gazed upon her daughter with reverence.

Gabe's hand rose up to cover her own, his head leaning against hers, and they smiled proudly at their little girl.

"Bo… Bo, come here," Moira entreated, raising a hand for her boy.

He scurried across the grass and took his place at her side, staring down at the baby in her arms with curiosity.

"This is your sister," she told him, squeezing his small hand. "She is your blood and your pack."

He stared a moment longer and then nodded, reaching out to her, his nails still the curved claws of his wolf, but neither of his parents stopped him, instead watching to see what he would do. Carefully, Bo reached a hand out to her and watched as her tiny fingers curled around one of his. A goofy smile broke out over his mouth then as he told them. "She likes me!"

"Of course she does…" Gabe ruffled his hair. "You're her big brother."

Bo seemed to preen at that and smiled down at his sister happily. His brow furrowed though as he wondered, "What's her name?"

Gabe and Moira exchanged a soft smile before they returned their gaze to their daughter. "Chloe… Chloe Anne Sullivan."

"Chloe," he repeated, his mouth pinched up in thought, causing one of his fangs to poke out. "I like it."

Moira wrapped an arm around him, drawing him in close, and kissed his head.

Under the Flower Moon, the White Wolf was born to a loving family, having no idea of the life waiting for her.

Two months later, under the Buck Moon, the Broken Boy was born. Derek Hale greeted the world with a howl and miles across the world, a sleeping baby woke, her eyes flashing a shocking violet before they faded back to gold and finally to a mossy green.

In Beacon Hills, Derek was being shared between his proud parents, who had no idea that two threads of fate wound themselves around his heart, one the black of terrible loss and the other the red of a great love.

[Next: Part One.]