A Legacy's Duty
Summary:
"With every action there is a positive and negative reaction."
The Darach's use of the Nemeton for Blood Magic causes the scales to tip; and Beacon Hills soon finds itself at the center of it all. When it all becomes too much, Deaton gets in touch with an old contact for help.
A person who is not as normal as they appear.
Chapter One
Crossing the Line
Location: Unknown
"Morning, AJ!"
Yawning as she enters the large, open room, she waves absently at her brown-haired companion as she makes her way to the coffee maker, "Morning, Lance. How did the shift last night go?"
The blonde-haired woman listens as he goes through the numerous different jobs, her attention half-focused on his words as she mixes in her cream and sugars. Humming to herself, she snatches up a blue-tooth headset before making her way over to the large conference table. Unlike most wooden conference tables, the top of the long table was made of a plexiglass continental map of the United States. Settling into the comfortable computer chair, she loads up three of the touch screen computers hanging from ceiling by mounts. Checking the e-mail accounts, she blinks as she comes across a familiar, but unfrequent name.
"Hey, Lance," she calls out without looking over her shoulder, "Do you remember someone named Deaton?"
"Druid of Neutrality. You and Regan helped him on a case with that witch that was trying to turn those Mages off their path," Lance replies from the other side of the room.
AJ,
Normally, I wouldn't have bothered with this unless the circumstances called for it, but I'm afraid that they, in fact, do call for it. The past two months, Beacon Hills, California has been visited by numerous amounts of supernatural creatures and if it wasn't for the Pack, I doubt this town would still be here. Unfortunately, things seem to be progressing worse and I haven't been able to figure out why.
A couple of months ago, Beacon Hills was caught in a feud between a Darach and a Pack of Alpha Werewolves. The Pack was taken care of, with few casualties, but the Darach managed to use the Beacon Hills' Nemeton as a place of sacrifice; using Human sacrifices in exchange for power. The threefold deaths were calculated to be of the Five Factions, but the Beacon Hills' Pack managed to negate the Guardians when their children performed ritualistic self-sacrifices in their stead.
I knew, and forewarned them, that their sacrifices would not only cut off the Darach's ritual, but would activate the Nemeton. I knew we would gain some kind of attention, but the amount of attention this town has had has increased and doesn't seem to have an end.
I was hoping that you would be able to figure out if there is something I am missing. It seems like there is something...more that is calling attention to the Nemeton; something more than just the Natural Magic it carries.
Your help would be most appreciative.
Sincerely,
Dr. Alan Deaton
Another thoughtful hum sounds from her as she stretches her arms over her head, allowing her back to crack. Shaking out her arms, she earns a chuckle from Lance as she gets ready to get in her zone. She prided herself on her level of work, that she rarely took no for an answer and she refused to give up. It was a personality trait many commented on being hereditary, and it was one that she never minded having.
A couple of years ago, AJ and two close friends had come together, pooling their resources, in order to establish an underground 'help' line in regards to a supernatural crisis. Their intel was almost limitless and the amount of contacts AJ had in regard to handing out jobs was more massive than most people realized. She liked helping people, protecting them. It was another trait she earned through her family, another thing she prided herself on.
Especially when people like Alan Deaton requested help.
She knew the Druid rarely needed help as he often worked behind the scenes in trying to establish and contain a sense of balance. It's something AJ admired and disliked, exclusively, about Druids. Their need of obtaining a healthy balance kept their territory relatively free of supernatural influence, but often caused them to refrain from stepping in on a count of moral obligation. They never place their own morals, or ideals, before Nature itself; and that is an idea she can't get behind.
So, him requesting help must mean something bad is happening. Something he wants stopped, but is unable to do it himself.
Crackling her knuckles, she heaves a deep sigh before digging into her research.
Locaton: Beacon Hills, California
"Get him on the table! Scott, get me some bandages."
The heavily injured form of Isaac Lahey was laid out on the metal table as Deaton cut away the torn fabric of his t-shirt. Seeing the blackened edges of the slash marks along the teen's torso, Deaton carefully swabs the area with several Q-Tips, placing them in test tube in order to test for any irregularities in the wound. Derek Hale carefully held the golden-eyed Beta down by his shoulders as Deaton poked around the open wounds, searching for any foreign material that may have been left behind by the creature.
A slow whistle of disbelief pierces through the silence, all eyes snapping toward the source of the noise. A petite blonde-haired woman, hardly any older than the teenagers, stood at the threshold of the room, her light-eyed gaze focused in the injured Beta. She promptly ignores the warning growls from both Scott and Derek as she moves closer to the exam table, not even greeting Deaton as she absently snaps latex gloves onto her hands, her fingers delicately tracing along the wound.
"Damn. Is this one of the Pups?" the woman asks, not looking away from the wound as she examines the blackened edges carefully.
"He is. Isaac Lahey. We aren't sure what attacked him, but the creature vanished with one of their friends, Stiles Stilinski," Deaton stated.
"So...this thing leaves behind a perfectly injured, weakened piece of prey, but snags a Human instead?" the woman asks, her gaze flicking up to Deaton, who nods, "This happen this evening? Probably in the woods, right?" Deaton nods again and the woman hums thoughtfully before snapping off the gloves and tossing them in the red-labeled waste basket. "Well, he's going to be fine. His body is just fighting off a natural affection from the claws. I doubt the damn thing takes the time to wash its hands. Just clean the wound and allow him to heal as he should."
"You know what attacked them?" Deaton asks, quirking an eyebrow.
The woman smirks, raising a sarcastic eyebrow of her own, "You have met me, yes? C'mon, Doc. Do you have a geographical map of the area?"
"I do. Scott," the young True Alpha snaps out of his stupor, eyes turning to the vet, "Can you go into my office and get my topographical map of Beacon Hills?"
As the map is stretched out on a different exam table, the woman hums as she begins marking the map with a marker at different intervals, "Okay, can you tell me where your friends were attacked?" She looks up, only to notice the two Werewolves tense at the attention, "What?"
Deaton sighs, "Your eyes, dear."
The woman scoffs with dismissal. Deaton understands why the two Werewolves are uncomfortable. The silver-blue flecks coloring the light-green irises are abnormal at best, not something most people come across regularly.
"Right. My eye doctor swears I have what is called Central Heterochromatic eyes. It's a discoloration of the irises. Most people are more familiar with people that have one hazel eye and one blue eyes, but in my case the discoloration is in both eyes and centered around my pupils," the woman replies.
Scott coughs before pointing at a spot on the map, "This is where we found Isaac. Stiles was with him at the time, but when we arrived, Isaac said whatever ambushed them was faster than the eye can keep up and it took off with Stiles."
The woman nods, "Right. Well, this," she taps one of the marked spots, "indicates a small cave that runs along the edges of the ravine. You said your friend, Isaac, mention the thing was fast; faster than a Werewolf can keep up with? Well, if we're going to find this...Stiles kid, it will probably be there."
"You know he's alive?" Derek questions, eyes narrowed with suspicion, "How?"
The woman sighs, standing upright, "Because your friend was abducted by a Wendigo, which is way weird because the geographical location is completely out of sorts for this type of creature. A Wendigo hibernates for seventeen years at a time and when they awaken they horde their food for their next hibernation cycle."
"Their...food?" Scott gulps, his shoulder tensing.
The woman nods curtly, "Wendigos were once Human, but during a time period where food was...scarce, they resorted to cannibalism. A human feeding on the flesh of another human tends to cause some kind of...metaphysical change."
"That thing took Stiles to eat!" Scott shouts, eyes widening in horror as he exchanges a glance with Derek, who also appears to be worried about the situation.
"It's okay. We know where the thing is camping out. They keep their food alive for days before...uh...storing it," the woman responds, trying to placate the frantic teen. "If I recall, Wendigos can't cross salt lines and are susceptible to fire, so...flare guns would work best."
"Right...who the hell carries around a flare gun?" Derek snarks, apparently uncomfortable around the knowledgable woman.
She raises her hand in a mocking manner, "Uh...I do. I have an arsenal in the trunk of my car."
"So...exactly who are you?" Scott asks, shifting his weight as the tension seems to raise between the blue-eyed Beta and this odd woman, "I mean...we've never met you before."
"Surely you remember when I told all of you about requesting some help with our current problem?" Deaton asks, earning nods from the two Werewolves, "This is AJ, Co-Founder of ARC Consultants."
"ARC Consultants?" the two echo in confusion.
"It takes too long to explain, and right now, we don't have time to spare. Let me put it this way, I know what I'm doing and I'm here to help," AJ responds, waving off their concern. Her eyes flick toward Deaton, "Although, you weren't kidding about this place becoming the proverbial hotspot, but we'll have a chat about that after we save this...Stiles kid."
Derek Hale watches with thinly veiled suspicion as the blonde woman, AJ, makes her way out of the clinic, stalking over to the dark-cherry red 1965 Mustang Fastback. Deaton promised to keep an eye on Isaac so both he and Scott can rescue Stiles, the vet insisting on the two of them taking AJ's help. The blonde huffed at the suggestion, but said nothing as she motioned for the wolves to follow her. Pausing next to the woman as she opens the trunk of her car, they watch as she presses a small switch, causing a board to slide out, displaying a secret cache stashed with various weapons.
"Holy crap!" Scott exclaims, his eyes wide as the woman grabs the side of the cache and pulls upwards, revealing three full tray-like expansions; reminding Derek of the inside of a tackle box.
"Yeah. Sometimes a person can't be sure what they're up against, so one must keep a variety of different weapons that can be used. See, I have knives of pure iron," she taps a finger along the bottom tray, which seemed to be a selection of various knives and bladed weapons, "silver," she taps another finger indicating the blade, "This knife is inscribed with ancient Sumerian runes that allows this knife to kill demons."
Derek tenses as the information slots together, only to hear a sharp smack as AJ slaps the back of Scott's hand as he reaches out to touch one of the odd wooden spikes, "You don't want to touch that. It's made of Rowan, better known as Mountain Ash. Touch that and you'll burn your hand."
"You're a Hunter," Derek hisses.
AJ shrugs a shoulder, tilting her hand side-to-side, "Kinda. I'm the Co-Founder of ARC Consultants. We help where we can when it comes to the Supernatural underbelly of the world. When people get turned, or they can't help being what they are born as, we help them learn how to cope in a healthy manner that doesn't reveal their existence to humanity."
"What do you mean cope?" Scott asks as the woman moves to the second tray, which held a variety of guns.
AJ huffs, "Let me give you an example. There was this girl, barely sixteen. She was bitten by a Vampire and turned. Now, if you never feed on human blood, the newly-turned Vamp could be turned back to Human. Carissa, unfortunately, was force-fed Human blood, but didn't want to hurt innocent people. Sooo," AJ removes two flare guns from the trunk, "my friend Carter located a nest in her area, made sure they were clean and we got her acclimated into the life-style. Sometimes, though," she pushes the tray back down, shutting the trunk, "they can't help themselves, no matter how hard we try, and sometimes there are those that don't care who they hurt, and we have to...take care of it."
Scott lets out a thoughtful noise, "So...Deaton called you about the Nemeton?"
"E-mailed, but essentially, yes. Now, once a person becomes a Wendigo, there's no turning back, so this one gives us no choice," she replies, her unique eyes shifting between the two, "Which one of you knows how to aim properly? Your enhanced senses will probably make this type of Hunt easier than me doing it on my own."
Derek is thankful when Scott is the one to take the flare gun. She indicates for them to lead the way before climbing into her car. As Derek and Scott both settle into the Toyota, they head toward the road closest to the cavern.
"So...she's...different," Scott says, breaking the silence. "Do you think there really is an entire...faction of Hunters like her?"
Derek shrugs, "Not sure. Let's not be too quick to trust her. Even if Deaton does give her a vote of confidence, there's something...odd about her."
"-doesn't explain where you are."
Derek and Scott share a glance as the blonde steps out of her parked vehicle, her phone attached to her ear, her eyes announcing her annoyance, "Relax. This isn't my first Wendigo hunt and at least this time I have back up."
"That's not the point, Lis!"
"C'mon. You really need to relax. I promise, I'll fill you in when I finish this one. There's just...something really weird about all of this and none of the maps back at the office have as much detail as the one's here. I'm not doing anything until I get all the facts down."
A sigh sounds from the other line, "Alright, kid. Just make sure to stay safe, ya' hear?"
"I know."
"Love you, Lis."
"Aw, you know I love you too, Dad," her tone mocking.
An bemused huff sounds before the man on the other line hangs up. AJ shakes her head as she hangs up, making sure to put her phone on silence. Turning toward Scott and Derek, she motions for them to come closer.
"Your friend's phone probably has some kind of GPS system installed on it, right?" Scott nods, "Good. Can you ping his position? It'll make it easier to navigate rather than going in blind."
The trek through the woods is at a calm pace, AJ explaining that rushing into things tends to make the situation worse. Derek listens intently as she explains how Wendigos are perfect nocturnal hunters, nearly perfect predators because they don't need light in order to see. Scott shows some interest as she speaks at lengthy detail, the young woman showing no signs of annoyance as he asks questions.
"So...Vampires are real? I thought...you know..."
"That they were myths? Stories?" AJ finishes Scott's sentence, smirking at the boy as she gives him a pointed look, "Gee, I wonder what other types of mythological creatures are real?" She lets out a huff of near-silent laughter as Scott flushes, "Yes. Vampires are real, but they are nearly extinct. A couple of decades ago, Vampire hunting became a popular trend in the hunting community and it really killed their numbers. Most nests nowadays are conditioned to...vet their children, follow certain guidelines before turning them; some people with cancer or some illness that they happen to know personally and are willing to be turned, not so different than your species to be honest. We have one Vamp in each nest marked as a contact, to give us updates to make sure they're staying on track."
"How is it possible that you do all of this? You're barely older than him," Derek asks, motioning to Scott.
AJ glances over at him, quirking an eyebrow, "Deaton mentioned that the Hale's are born werewolves, yes?" Derek and Scott both nod, causing her to nod in turn, "Well, like you were born into your lifestyle, I was born into mine. Just like the Argents, a long line of history with that family."
"Are they a part of your...ARC system?" Scott asks, curious about his on-and-off-again girlfriend.
AJ lets out a short, sarcastic bark of laughter, "That's a big Hell no. No offense, but most Hunters follow a certain Code when it comes to doing a job. There's been a long line of Code Breaking when it comes to some of the Argents and we aren't exactly sure which one's are trustworthy and which ones aren't. And we tend to stay away from the species Hunters. Those types of Hunters are known for going off the reservation, so to speak."
"So, Hunters don't trust other Hunters?" Derek asks, snorting at the irony.
AJ shrugs, "I don't trust the kind of Hunters that show signs of being bigger monsters than their intended targets. Trust me when I say, there is a very thin line on keeping one's humanity. We learn early on that we can't save everyone, no matter how hard we try, and we can't always fix the problem without there being some collateral damage along the way."
Moving aside some branches, the trio keep their senses open as they carefully move through the woods. Scott glances at the woman from the corner of his eye, biting on the inside of his cheek as he muses over his next question.
"So how old are you really?"
Her eyebrows twitch, a heavy sigh leaving her lips as she shakes her head, "Honestly? I...don't know. I can't remember much before five years ago, so my exact age is...unknown."
"You have amnesia?" Derek asks, tilting his head as he looks over the girl once more.
She nods, "I suppose I do. My...situation is complicated at best."
"You're awfully forthcoming with information about yourself," Derek points out, "Most Hunters I've come across are secretive."
A huff of laughter echoes softly through the trees, "Just because I tell you truthful answers in response to your questions, doesn't mean I'm telling you everything. Some of the things about my life you don't need to know, and others are things nobody needs to know."
"Hey, GPS says we're half of a mile from Stiles' position," Scott whispers.
Derek and AJ both nod curtly, silence falling over the group as they get closer to the cavern.
God, did everything hurt. It's been hours since Stiles Stilinski could feel his arms; the long limbs stretched above his head, bound at the wrists, forcing all of his weight to place strain on the limbs. The sticky crimson substance staining the side of his head is nothing compared to the burning cuts lining his exposed torso. He hopes Isaac is alright. Even though the two of them rarely get along, the kid has been through enough crap.
A gust of warm breath brushes against the back of his neck, a shiver running along his spine. He can hear the low, guttural growl from the creature behind him. Fear crawls along his nerves as he mentally pleads for his safety.
A whistle pierces through the air, the creature behind him snarling toward the sound.
"Come out to play!" a feminine voice sings, the voice echoing through the cavern walls.
A flutter of wind breezes past him and as silence falls over him, the captive teen heaves a sigh of relief. Distant growls drift in the air, the discomfort of being left in the dark causes his chest to tighten, his breathing becoming quick and shallow. Tears burn his eyes as he fights against the panic rising in his chest, his heart racing, pounding against his ribcage. He wants to relax, but his captivity and anxiety only seems to mix together, causing his brain to become hyper-aware of every possibility.
"Stiles!"
The familiar, sharp tone breaks through the panic, his eyes lifting to see familiar neon-blue eyes peering at him from the darkness of the cave, "Derek? H-How?"
"Don't worry about that right now. Let's get you out of here," the Beta wolf replies, aiming to keep his tone calm in order to reduce the boy's panic.
A groan rumbles from the back of Stiles' throat as his bindings are cut, his entire weight crumbling to the ground; the teen thankful for Derek's quick reflexes as his arms hook under his arm pits, keeping him elevated. Without a word, the dark-haired Beta helps lead the boy through the winding tunnels, locating the exit. A howl of pain sounds from the mouth of the cave, both of them tensing at the familiar noise.
"Get down!" a feminine voice calls out.
A loud bang sounds before a flare of light bursts, slamming into the chest of the gruesome looking creature standing over Scott. Stiles tries to ignore Derek's habitual flinch as the creature's entire body burns up, the flames mounting along the long limbs until it fades into ash. Blinking as his eyes adjust to the change of light, Stiles' gaze settles on the blonde woman holding the flare gun; small cuts visible along the arms of her jacket.
"Who the hell is that?" Stiles questions, breathing heavily.
"Her name is AJ," Stiles quirks an eyebrow at the name, Scott gesturing toward the woman, "Apparently Deaton called in a favor from a Hunter."
Seeing her abnormal gaze focus on his sudden tension, Stiles struggles to keep from shifting his weight nervously as the woman lets out an annoyed huff, her hand pocketing the flare gun, "Yeah, yeah. I'm a big bad Hunter, you can't trust me, yadda, yadda, yadda; blah, blah, blah. Can we get out of here? I didn't exactly sign up to Hunt down a Wendigo when I agreed to help Doc."
As the woman stalks off with confident steps, the three Pack members share a glance before following after the woman. Stiles can't help the impressed whistle that leaves his lips at the sight of her car as she rounds to the trunk and pulls open the weapon cache. Scott leaves his side as he returns the unused flare gun, his empty hand filled with a sealed bottled water.
"Give this to your friend. He might be slightly dehydrated. He doesn't look too bad, other than the bump on his head, but I'd mark it as a mild-concussion at the most," AJ says without prompting, "He can use whatever he doesn't drink to wash away some of the dirt."
Scott's fingers curl around the bottle, eyes lifting to meet her gaze, "Thank you."
She quirks an eyebrow, "Dude, it's a bottle of water."
"No. I mean thank you for helping us," Scott reaffirms, shaking his head, "You don't even know us, and you didn't have any real reason to save Stiles, but...you did."
She firmly shuts the trunk, eyebrows narrowed as she assesses Scott's demeanor for any falsehood, "Um...sure. Whatever. I was here. Someone needed help. I happen to be prepared. It's kind of my job."
Realizing the woman was most likely unaccustomed to being thanked for her help, Stiles takes the water from Scott, "Awesome," He croaks, "My throat is dry as hell."
AJ blinks at the change of subject before letting out a small haughty laugh, "Yeah. Wendigos are mean sons a'bitches," Her head tilts toward the two Werewolves, "No offense meant to the Pups."
Despite the situation, Stiles cackles, head tilting back, "Oh man! I thought there was a 'no dog jokes' rule." The brown-haired teen grins at the Huntress, "Well, so far, I like ya. Now, lets get out of here. Dad's gonna kill me if I come home covered in blood again."
AJ slides behind the wheel of her car, leaving the three Pack members to share telling looks. Stiles, glancing between the two wolves, groans, rolling his eyes as he holds his hand out to Derek, "Dude, either Scott rides with the unknown Hunter, or you hand over your keys to one of us, or I'm the one that rides with the chick."
Derek barely has to contemplate the thought before he tosses his keys to Scott. Stiles understands the Beta's reasons; he isn't going to let their Alpha ride in a car alone with an unknown Hunter, nor the injured Pack member. Watching as Derek stiffly slides into the passenger seat of the woman's vehicle, to which she only rolls her eyes when Scott demands that she leads the way back to Deaton's clinic. Limping to the Toyota, Stiles offers Scott a small, thankful grin, trying to ease his friend's tension.
Nothing ever good came from new players on the board.
Once again, leaning against a nearby wall, Derek watches the blonde as she shifts through endless papers, maps and old texts; her teeth gnawing at the cap of a thin, felt-tip marker as her eyes flick back and forth between focal points. With two of his Pack members injured and resting, Derek remains on point; wondering how Humans are so capable of getting lost in their concentration for hours on end. AJ happens to be hitting the third hour marker in her work; Deaton occasionally offering a cup of coffee for the working woman.
A shift in her posture indicates a new train of thought, her eyebrows knitting together as her head tilts, gaze shifting over the geographical map of Beacon Hills. Something must have caught her attention as she removes the marker from mouth, popping off the cap thoughtlessly before dragging the reddened tip along the map; tracing something of obvious importance. A thoughtful hum escapes her as she turns her gaze to a different map, her fingers moving over the map.
"Hey, McCall. Deaton mentioned that you know where the Nemeton is located, yes?" At Scott's positive response, her eyes flick up to meet the Alpha's (an action that causes Derek to tense out of instinct), "Do you think you can point it out on this map?"
Nodding, Scott approaches the table. It only takes him a short while to mark down the Nemeton's position with a blue marker. Giving him a curt thanks, the woman motions for him to go somewhere else as her gaze darkens with thought.
"Shit!" she hisses, shoulders tensing as her back straightens; a posture that most people refer to as 'standing at attention'. "The Darach is dead, yes?" Hearing the affirmations, AJ grunts, "Good. Otherwise I'd kill her myself."
"What's going on?" Scott asks, glancing over at Derek as the two wolves step toward the woman.
She says nothing as she moves to the lit-up panel (Deaton uses to examine X-Rays), taking the map Scott marked with her, "You see this, right?" She fastens it against the panel, tapping her index finger against the blue mark, "This marks the Nemeton's position. Now, you see this?" She fastens the other map next to it, red lines drawn along the map, "Now, both of these lines intersect here," Her finger taps as an indicator against the red-marked map, "and the exact coordinates match up with the Nemeton's position."
"So? They're rivers? Or roads?" Derek questions.
AJ shakes her head, "Worse," She moves the blue-dotted map to set it over the other, causing the blue mark to become slightly visible from underneath the red crosshairs, "Deaton! You might want to come look at this."
Derek has never seen the Emissary's face show any sense of fear, "Oh, dear Lord."
"What? What's going on?" Scott demands, the tension rising in the air.
"These lines are ley lines; certain places underneath the Earth's crust that shifts along the techtonic plates. You have what we refer to as a Natural Crossroads, and sitting at the epicenter of it all is a Nemeton, or a Natural Purifier. You guys are quite literally sitting on what most pop culture refers to as a Hellmouth; or a Devil's Gate," AJ backs away from the display, "And that bitch focused so much Blood Magic and sacrificial rituals that it forced the Nemeton's natural balance to tip dramatically. It's literally bleeding Hell into the soil..."
She looks up at them all, her eyes stern as she says, "And Beacon Hills is at the center of it all."
Alright! Just so you know, this happens after Season 3a, ignoring Season 3b, and it does in fact include facets from Supernatural (gotta love that show). Leave a review, let me know what you think!