Wooo new teen wolf fanfic let's go
UPDATE: Minor edit/changes right at the start to Dakan's history. I realised I screwed myself a little bit while writing the third chapter so I've come back to fix it.
Summary: It was supposed to be a quick, in-and-out thing - two months, tops. Remain incognito, find what they needed, and continue running. But Dakan and his family never factored in the wolves of Beacon Hills, they were never involved in the plan. Now this one major slip is going to cost them, and Dakan stands to lose everything. Takes place in season 3
Dakan Farraige was really fucking hoping he'd get to have a fairly normal year, for variety's sake. But that particular dream was shot point blank the moment Scott McCall walked into the classroom.
It was, quite frankly, ridiculous that this keeps happening to him. Every time he asked to be left out of the constant mess of his world, the mess just enveloped him out of sheer spite. And it seemed this year it would be no different. Should've known this would happen, he kept telling himself. Should've been prepared to dive right back into the thick of it. He half thought about standing up and walking out of the door right there; the teacher hadn't arrived yet, it could work. Or maybe just crack open the pane of glass next to him and swan dive out the window. The latter was seriously looking attractive at this point. He shook his head and scowled at the culprit of his anger. The black haired teen was just grinning at his stupid friend sitting next to him. "Son of a bitch," Dakan muttered. Everything was just fine until this idiot showed up.
He'd arrived at the school fairly early; as a new student not starting in the lowest year, he'd had to meet with the principal before school. The principal seemed like a decent if no-nonsense sort of guy, though he just would not stop talking. The man went on about how the school works, his timetable and the like. Dakan just nodded along and zoned out, eager to explore his new school. At the moment, he was especially keen to escape the principal's droning on about protocols Dakan didn't really need to know. He was frowning at what looked like a sword hilt peeking from behind the desk when the butchering of his last name brought him back to reality.
"Mr... Far-age?" asked Principal Thomas.
"Farraige. Like 'fa-ra-gerh'," Dakan explained. "It's Irish."
"Oh yes well, as I was saying, as a junior, you have a great range of extra-curricular activities to choose from." Dakan supposed that was his first task of becoming accustomed to life in an American high school - figuring out how to occupy himself. "We have chess club, debating, and of course sports." Dakan was horrible at sports, and while he didn't think he was actually that bad at chess, and he could sweet-talk his way out of a shit storm, it crossed his mind that immediately going for the two dorkiest things might not win him any popularity points.
"Ugh let's start with sports?"
So now there he was, walking to his locker, with instructions on how to join various sporting teams crumpled in his hand. He gathered the little paper ball and lobbed it into a bin across the hall as he passed it. It skirted around the rim of the bin before finally falling down. Heh, maybe I should rethink the basketball team. After then getting lost three separate times, he found his locker just as the first period bell rang. "Shit shit shit shit shit," he chanted. Mercifully, it only took him two tries to get the right combination. He scrambled at the necessary books before slamming his locker shut and running off in what he hoped was the right direction for English.
The teacher wasn't there when he appeared at the doorway for the right classroom, but he could tell by the few seats left that he was almost late. He quickly rushed to one of the remaining seats by the large window, sat down and let out the breath he didn't realise he was holding. So far so good, it seemed. It was strange, getting a fresh start after all he'd been through. He kept expecting people to stop talking and stare, or to point and speak in hushed whispers, but there was no reason for them to. In their minds, sure, being the new kid warranted some attention but beyond that there was nothing else. He was just another normal junior about to start another (hopefully) normal year. He brought what his father told him earlier that morning to the front of his mind.
"Remember why we're here Dakan. We're just getting what we need and leaving. The only reason you're going to school is to blend in as much as possible. Don't make friends, just keep your eyes on the board, and don't draw attention to yourself."
Dakan was chanting his father's instructions when Scott McCall walked in with his friend. Dakan only gave him a glance before fumbling around his pocket looking for his buzzing phone. Fairly attractive guy, olive skin and black hair, nice golden eyes. His eyes drifted down to his phone, the text from his mother-
Wait, golden eyes?
Dakan choked on air, and started hacking in a coughing fit. Everyone looked at him, including the guy in question. A look of concern was plastered on his face, and Dakan saw fit to continue coughing. With the guy looking right at him, there was no denying that he had shining golden eyes. He became acutely aware of everyone staring at him, and tried his best to stifle the coughs.
Don't draw attention to yourself.
"You okay dude?" Gold Eyes asked. Dakan furrowed his face and gave a thumbs up.
"Do you need some water?" Dakan shook his head at the offer and brought out his own drink bottle out of his backpack, before taking several large gulps.
"I'm good man, thanks."
The boy smiled at him before opening his mouth to speak again. "You must be new, I haven't seen you here before. I'm Scott."
Don't make friends.
Well shit what do I do? "Dakan," he replied, before he started furiously rummaging through his bag, pretending quite badly to be busy. Scott just looked in confusion at this new kid, then quickly turned around when Stiles started talking to him.
Just keep your eyes on the board.
But Dakan couldn't help it, and kept staring at this kid named Scott as the coughs died. He had the golden eyes of a werewolf- a werewolf. What the hell was a werewolf doing here? There weren't meant to be any werewolves in this town - anymore, at least. They'd known about Beacon Hills' infamous history with the supernatural, of course - it was the whole reason him and his parents came here - but that was just it, it was meant to be history. Their information had told them that all of the wolves in Beacon Hills had died years ago; some house fire or something.
Apparently their information was wrong.
He sat there, unsure what to do. He had just managed to piss all over his father's advice within the first five minutes of his actual school life, which was an achievement in of itself. He definitely had to tell his parents immediately, but he was in class, and while the teacher still hadn't arrived yet he didn't know when they'd come and he didn't want to be caught on the phone as they walked in.
Scott talking snapped him out of his stupor. "No- nononono, it's all you- all yours. It's totally vacant." The girl he was talking to grinned as she sat down, and Scott's friend gave him the smuggest thumbs up Dakan had ever seen. He looked back and forth between the girl and Scott, and judged by the way he was staring at the back of her head that he had a thing for her.
Bzzz!
Dakan looked down at his phone and squinted at the cryptic message he'd received. "The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds and the tranquil waterway leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed somber under an overcast sky seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness." A pair of heels clacked against the floor as a thin brunette woman walked through the door, reading out loud off a phone. She leaned against the desk at the front of the room and smiled at the class.
"This is the last line to the first book we're going to read," she said as she raised her hand and displayed the mobile in it. "It is also the last text you will receive in this class. Phones off, people."
It's not like I had anyone to text me anyways, Dakan mused. He looked back down at his phone. He desperately needed to tell his parents that there were still wolves in Beacon Hills. He looked up at the teacher, who was scanning over the classroom, making sure everyone had put down their phones. "Fuck," he muttered, and switched his off.
It had almost been half an hour since class started, and Dakan was losing his mind. Scott had left for some reason or another almost as soon as the lesson actually started, so at least Dakan wasn't staring creepily at him wishing he'd go away. But instead, his fixation turned to the boy's friends. Did they know? Were they themselves werewolves? They didn't have the glowing eyes of one like Scott, but it wasn't like there weren't ways to conceal their eyes if they knew how.
Scott's presence - well, more so his 'condition' - in Beacon Hills was a worrying sign. The supernatural was on the rise again in this town, and Dakan really wouldn't normally give a shit, so long as he wasn't in it as it was. It could be that Mr 'Golden Eyes' was a loner, an Omega he thought they called themselves, but that would probably be a best-case scenario, and knowing his luck it probably wasn't so. No, a whole pack would probably be here in this town to wreck havoc upon him.
Dakan looked at the three friends Scott appeared to have in the classroom. The brunette girl who sat in front of him, the boy - Stiles, he thought he heard him be called, and a redhead girl in front of Dakan that Stiles had been whispering to. Perhaps indeed they were all werewolves, and just knew how to hide their eyes. He'd heard that it was easier to turn teenagers from his parents; their rapidly changing bodies helped facilitate the drastic human to werewolf shift, and lessened the chance of death slightly. If there was a pack full of teenagers running around, he reckoned they'd all stick with pack at school.
He chewed slightly at the end of his pen. But if they were in fact all wolves, why was Scott the only one who didn't know how to conceal his eyes from those like Dakan who can see them? Perhaps he hadn't learnt how to yet, or perhaps he was just being lax. It was a pretty advanced technique though, so unless this bunch of teenagers had an old and powerful Alpha, it wasn't too likely that a few wolves in high school knew how to do it. Maybe or maybe not, but either way it was worth keeping an eye on them.
Dakan jumped in his seat and swore as a loud crash sounded from his left. He looked over at the window, where a mass of red blood and feathers was smashed against one of the glass panes. The whole class looked up with him, some pinching their faces in disgust at the mess on the window, while others amazingly just went back to work.
The bird had come out of nowhere. He looked past the blood, trying to see where it had come from, and his eyes widened at what he saw. Hundred of small black dots littered the sky, and were getting larger. A whole cloud seemed to form from them. When the faint sound of cawing hit the room, Dakan realised that they were crows. He looked to the teacher - Ms Blake - who walked over to stare out the window. He watched the mix of confusion and fear hit her face as she too saw what he did. She looked back at the class, her mouth agape. The second bird then hit the window, nobody going back to work this time.
The third crow smashed against the glass; then the fourth, then the fifth and the sixth. Everyone jumped out of their chairs as the birds kept assailing the window with their bodies. Dakan's eyes widened as one of the birds hit the window hard, the clear glass cracking like a spiderweb around it. More and more panes began to spiderweb, until most had cracked.
Then all hell broke loose.
The glass, no longer strong enough to withstand the assault, shattered as the full brunt of the giant crazed flock of crows hit it. A girl behind him screamed as the birds swarmed to classroom, scratching and pecking everyone in the room. The teacher screamed for everyone to get down from her position under her desk, clutching another student close to her. Dakan slid under his desk, and watched the chaos unfold. Boys were swatting unsuccessfully at the air, some girls screamed as crows tore at their hair with their claws, while others had the sense to listen to their teacher and hide under the desks.
He turned his head and was met with a mass of black feathers in his face, the animal's beak hitting him hard enough to split the skin on his forehead. He shouted in pain and fell backwards onto the floor. Already a small rivulet of blood was flowing down from the cut above his eye. He swiped at his face, trying to clear his eyes of blood.
He could still hear his fellow students screaming, yelling, crying. He could still feel the birds scratching at his skin.
All right, I've had enough of this.
He crawled out from under the desk, feeling along the ground for what he needed. He tried opening his eyes once or twice to make the whole process easier, but was immediately reminded by the bird's talons why being blind wouldn't exactly be an exciting future. His hands patted the floor as he moved, feeling fallen papers, pens and feathers before finally finding what he needed. Once he felt it in his hand, he risked opening his eyes and dived under an empty desk nearby, and looked at his 'prize'.
The dead crow was an ugly mess - its wing was bent at an awkward angle, and its neck was broken - but it would suffice. Blood, I need blood, he thought. When the cut above his eye dripped into his eye again, Dakan was immediately thankful for the bird smashing itself into his face. At least I won't have to cut myself now. He wiped his hand all over the cut, until his fingers were covered in the red liquid. As he held his bloody fingers over the crow's body, he looked around one last time, halfway between making sure and hoping no one was watching him. He took a breath, and began speaking what he thought were the correct words.
The thing about Words of Power, is that they're arguably useless. It's more about the meaning you put behind them, the desperate intention of what you want to happen. A lot of the kind of things that Dakan was about to do comes from just sort of thinking really hard. And yet the Words and the accompanying rituals were important - if you don't want to fuck up horrifically, that is.
Because while the actual power comes from the hoping of the caster, the Words give the intention direction and focus. Just hoping isn't enough, it's too easy for it to get confused and mess up. So the correct Words, in the correct order, said with the correct actions clarify the intention, and prevent someone trying to stop their cut bleeding from accidentally stopping their entire cardiovascular system.
So that's how Dakan found himself; with a dead crow in one hand, his other bloody, and hoping what he wanted to happen happened while also hoping he didn't colossally screw up.
No pressure.
"Gaoth beithíoch sclábhaí toil," he whispered. He squeezed one of his fingers, forcing the blood coating it to drip down into one of the bird's eyes. "Gaoth beithíoch sclábhaí toil." He repeated the motion, dripping another drop of his blood into the other eye. "Gaoth beithíoch sclábhaí toil," he repeated a final time. He dropped the bird, hoping again no one saw him, and closed his eyes, wishing the birds to submit to his will.
At that moment, all the cawing and the crows' shrieking stopped, just as Dakan wanted. What he didn't expect to happen though, was all the birds to silently fly full-speed into the nearest wall, desk or hard surface; kamikazi-ing themselves and committing bird suicide. That's a little bit darker than what I meant by 'remove yourselves', Dakan thought, eyes wide.
"I've gotta ask, Sheriff, does this kind of stuff happen often in this town?" Dakan asked. He was sitting on one of the tables in the room, pressing a giant wad of tissues against his forehead.
The Sheriff looked up at him from his notepad, and frowned. "It's starting to," he said. "Is that all?"
"Yeah," he replied.
"Right, well thank you for your statement." Dakan watched as the Sheriff walked over to Stiles, who'd he learned was the man's son. He looked over at the other boy, and raised an eyebrow when he saw that he was watching Dakan like a hawk. As soon as they made eye contact, Stiles' head quickly turned back down to his phone. Despite the guy's entire posture signaling he wasn't looking, he could tell he was watching Dakan out of the corner of his eye. Dakan looked away, trying to figure out what ever the hell that was for.
With the Sheriff's permission, he got up off the table and walked out of the room. All the students from his class were let home, and he was already tired of this god-forsaken school and its weird supernatural or not shit. It has taken one hour to break my excitement for school in America, what an achievement, he thought, sighing. He entered the combination to his locker, and miracle of all miracles, he got it first try. It seemed even the universe knew when to stop testing his limits. Dumping his books in the tin cabinet, he slammed the door shut and leaned against it.
"Where's Scott McCall?!"
Dakan's head whipped around.
"You're Allison, right? Where's Scott?" Down the hall, a woman was standing in front of Lydia and the brunette girl- Allison. Her black hair looked disheveled, and her dark skin looked discoloured and clammy. Allison was startled by the look in her eyes. It wasn't fear exactly, but something more like urgency. Desperate urgency.
Dakan tried to listen in on the conversation from his spot against his locker, but they had quieted down enough for him to have to try and guess what they were saying. The mystery woman's hand shot out and grabbed Allison's wrist, squeezing tightly. When Lydia tried to object, she repeated the motion with her instead. Dakan frowned, confused at the woman's death-grip on the two girls. She was looking up now, past Lydia and Allison to the other end of the hall. He slowly turned his head, wondering what the hell had this woman so spooked. At the opposite end, two twin guys were staring straight back at the woman, apparently trying to do their best interpretation of 'The Shining'.
The woman harshly shoved the girls' hands away from her, and walked away, her eyes never leaving the twins. Allison walked after her, trying to see where she was going, and lost her immediately. Lydia turned with a slight frown on her face, trying to see what the Scary Lady was looking at, but only saw two boys turning the corner. Dakan, however, had wasted no time in following the woman. Just who the hell was this woman? Why had she gone looking for the werewolf of Beacon Hills High? He knew he didn't want to even risk following her, but if a mysterious and frazzled-looking woman wanted something to do with a werewolf, not knowing what exactly could spell danger for his family. He had to find out.
Curiosity killed the cat, he tried telling himself.
He watched as the woman disappeared into the empty boys change-room, slamming the door shut behind her.
Yeah, but satisfaction brought it back.
He walked up to the door, his palm on the handle when he heard heavy footsteps about to round the corner. He looked around, trying to find a hiding space, and leapt behind another entry to the corridor. He crouched down, making himself as small and invisible as possible while still keeping a look out.
He wasn't entirely surprised to see the two 'Shining' twins from earlier, but he wasn't expecting them to be followed by two adults. One, a mountain of a man with a shaved head; and the other a small, athletic-looking woman walking barefoot. Her toenails were grossly overgrown, and with horror he realised these weren't nails but claws. Werewolf claws. Their heads were all turned away from him, but as they filed into the change room one-by-one, he had just enough of an angle to catch their eyes.
Their red, glowing eyes.
All of them.
He covered his mouth to keep himself from crying out. Four Alphas - four of them - in Beacon Hills. He wanted to scream. This was too risky. They never should have come to this town, nothing was worth it. Not even that god-forsaken tree.
The sounds of crashing and fighting from inside the boys change room reminded him of his current situation. He wanted to run, but there was no telling if the Alphas would hear him and follow is erratic heart beat. It was probably only their singular focus on the woman inside that kept them from discovering him in the corridor. Though he realised that if he stayed here, the chances of them not finding him when they came out of the room were worse than if he just ran. Basically, he was probably fucked either way.
He was psyching himself up when he heard a gentle tapping getting louder. He risked a peek around the corner, trying to find the source. A man with dark shades over his eyes was swinging a cane against the floor in front of him, heading straight for the change room. A blind man. Heading for the same room that the wolves were all in. He'd be slaughtered.
Dakan wanted to yell out to the man, wanted to warn him to stay out of the room, wanted to tell him of the danger; but instinct stopped him. His father's voice was in his head again. "Don't risk yourself for anybody else, Dakan. It's probably never worth it. Well, unless it's family. You should probably help your family."
So Dakan watched as the blind man found the door handle, and let himself inside - knowing that he probably just allowed the poor man to walk to his death.
The sounds of fighting had stopped shortly after the man had walked in. The Alphas had probably finished with the woman and were now finishing him. His thoughts were confirmed when he heard a yell silenced before it could be heard beyond the empty corridor. But Dakan heard. The door swung open, and the twins walked out, followed by the massive man and the woman.
And then the blind man.
He stared in shocked as he walked out of the room, grinning. His snapped his folded cane out, and slipped his tinted shades over his blood red eyes.
So he was with them.
The blind werewolf slipped his hand into the crook of the woman's arm, and smiled as she led him away. Dakan waited several moments before daring to even look out from his hiding spot. With the coast seemingly clear, his attention turned to the change room door - still open slightly and creaking - and the dead silence within. He got up from his crouching position and stepped lightly over to the door, his fingers feeling the cold metal of the handle. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.
It took him a while to find the woman, but when he did, he almost yelled in bloody surprise. She was propped up against a set of lockers, her eyes closed and head rolled forward. She was sitting in a pool of blood - her own probably, considering the three deep slashes against her throat. A large spray of blood was on the wall next to her. She had every right to be dead, so he almost yelled a second time when her eyes fluttered open and looked up at him. He lips parted, and it took her a couple of moments before she could get out what she wanted. "H-help...me..."
Dakan watched eyes wide as her head collapse against the lockers, as if those two words cost all the energy she had left.
Should've known this would happen, he told himself. Should've been prepared to dive right back into the thick of it.