Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead. Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.
Authors Note #1: This scenario is based vaguely off the end of 6x08 where we last see Denise and Alpha-wolf walking out of the door of the house and into the street.
Warnings: Spoilers for 6x08, kidnapping/hostage situation, Alpha-wolf is not a good person, Denise is a puff pastry of goodness. I think you guys know how this type of stuff works out.
Salt of the earth (type of dangerous)
"I don't think he's coming back. Do you think he's coming back? We can talk, right? You don't have to be afraid. Talk."
"There's injured people out there. I have patients. I shouldn't be here."
"None of you should."
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
"Now for the things you've done, do you belong here?"
"Yes. What do you think I've done?"
"You've killed people…"
"We freed them. And then, we were just going to use what was left."
He had planned to kill her hours ago. Enjoying the thought of strangling her with his bare hands still tightly tied after she'd finished dressing his wounds. Completing the circle that had brought him and his pack here to start with. Only hours had passed and she still breathed.
She was an interesting distraction, he decided, cocking his head as he listened to her speak. Taking in every layer of herself she unknowingly gave up as the inches between them lessened and she stopped listening to that little voice in the back of her head that remembered she was warming the same space with a predator.
"No! Please. Please don't."
"Don't what?"
"Don't kill them. You said they were already dead. You said I was. You don't need to kill us. Just let us die. Just let us die. You are so full of shit!"
"You know what I like about people?"
He was going to say something. Something about her and the fire in her downcast eyes. Something about how most people didn't know they could be hunter until the bite of unfamiliar steel pressed against their throat. Only he was interrupted before the climax.
The appearance of other people, people that knew her, that cared about her, was unwelcome. But it served his purposes – in more ways than one. He used her as a shield getting out. Coaxing them back step by step towards the door after he took their weapons. They made noise when he opened the door and backed them out, gun raised. But he just smirked. Reminded of the chittering of prey before the winged shadow of death loomed above.
He would remember their faces for later. For after his wounds had been licked and his pack brought back to order. They were living outside the natural order. They would have to be educated – retaught – and take their rightful place in the scheme of things. He would enjoy watching their deaths. If only for the crime of knowing her longer.
He eased them onto the street, hyper-aware and careful as she trembled against his chest.
There were no walkers, but he could hear them – smell them.
They were always close.
Always waiting.
Nature's newest scavenger.
She stopped the blind obedience the moment she figured he was distracted between her and the walkers still trickling in through the gap in the wall by the solar panels. Feeling the play of muscles tense and uncoil along her back seconds before the point of her elbow slammed backwards. Aiming almost dead-center for his wound. He growled into her nape like a threat as he deflected it. Twisting her arm to the point of breaking before holding it there, demanding her good behavior as the fight in her slackened in fractions.
Good girl.
"Asshole," she hissed, blue eyes flashing furious when he eased her arm back down to her side and threaded the knife between his fingers. Ensuring she saw it and understood what it meant before he pressed a finger to his lips and pulled them down a gap between the houses. Letting a trio of walkers pass before pulling her along towards where he remembered the front gates had been.
She wasn't quite dragging her feet, but it was a near thing.
He found her impudence amusing. Arousing.
The corner of his lip quirked as he scented her. Enjoying the soft, clean warm he found in the dirt-blonde fuzz of her hair. Breathing it in like it was something exotic – precious. Remembering how something unfamiliar and warm had unfurled in his belly when she howled back at him in the basement before her friends had interrupted them. For the first time in a long time, he'd wanted.
But there was something else there, humming underneath her nervous skin. Potential.
Perhaps she could be taught, like the world had taught him?
She would be an asset.
She could learn.
She had teeth.
She'd already bared them.
The rest would just be a matter of if she was willing to use them.
But by then he would have done his part.
Her survival would be all on her.
Fight or die.
She would either earn her place in the pack or she wouldn't.
There was no other way, not in this life.
It wasn't until they'd slipped through the front gates and made it into the trees that she spoke again. Breathing heavily as he kept her a couple steps in front of him. Forcing her to walk as fast as his wound would allow and the sights and sounds of Alexandria were swallowed by the high, overarching branches.
"Where are you taking me?" she asked, tone an endearing haughty-tepid like she was trying to resign herself to whatever she thought was to come.
"The den," he answered, keeping one eye on the ground as he found their original trail without much difficulty. His pack had been excited. A new hunt. New prey. They'd been joyful. Leaping on one another as they danced through the half-dark. Nothing more than flitting shadows between the trees as he'd followed in their wake. Lame, but doubly fierce as the burn of infection spurred him on.
If he had fallen inside their gates it would have been a good death. Clean.
But nature had provided him another path and the opportunity for new hunts in the future.
"The- den?" she repeated, turning the word over in her mouth before letting it go a fraction of a beat too long to be considered smooth. "Why?"
He looked up, dark hair falling back from his face as he judged the positon of the lowering sun. Feeling a creeping sort of weariness seep through him as a low throb of pain throbbed warningly from underneath the gauze of his dressings.
"Because it's time to rest."
Authors Note #2: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. Big thank you to gunslingerdixon for the dialogue. If there is interest I am considering turning this into a series, let me know. - This story is now complete.