AN: Takes place about a month after Season One's Finale, disregards Season Two's Premier and the Lydia bite. Mostly because I don't want to try and figure out what's going on with that whole She lived but she's not a werewolf thing. Too complicated.
AN2: There will be a lot of perspective shifts in this story, simply because it involves all the characters to some degree or another. So you'll get to see a bit of everyone at one point or another, but expect a lot of Derek and a lot of Stiles. Thus, the character filters.
Summary: The battle lines have been drawn. Armies drafted and trained. The war is coming. Whose side are you on?
Warnings: Language
Disclaimer: I don't own "Teen Wolf".
Chapter One
They're Coming
The death of an Argent, Derek knows, will not be satisfied with blood for blood, life for life. Kate had been insane, had betrayed the Code hunters were supposed to uphold. But managing transgressions is an internal affair, not to be meddled in by outside forces. Such as a vengeful and psychotic Alpha, for example.
They'll be coming. Argents from all across the nation. They're coming to claim vengeance of their own. Death to the werewolves. War on the Pack.
Genocide.
They'll be coming.
His pack isn't strong enough to withstand the coming storm. There are so few of them, and it's fractured. Scott, still striving to be human, to be normal. Still clinging to his old life instead of embracing his new one. And Jackson, so arrogant. Derek may have given him the Bite, but he is not Wolf, not Pack. Not yet. Jackson's allegiance remains only to himself and his own selfish desires.
They will not survive this way. Cannot survive this way.
Derek is Alpha, it is his responsibility to forge his Pack. To take individuals and make them part of the whole, stronger than the sum of its parts. He needs to create unity from conflict, draw strength from weakness.
But he doesn't know how. Derek has never been a leader, was never meant to lead. He had killed Peter for Laura, not for power. He is not a shaper of men and animals. He doesn't know how to force Jackson and Scott to set aside their old hatreds and become Pack. Doesn't know how to make them understand that everything from the Before is irrelevant in the Now.
Because now this is a war, and they're already losing.
The Shift is more painful now. The cost of an Alpha's power is paid in pain, but if it can save his Pack, Derek will pay it gladly. An agonized and anger growl bursts from lips and throat still in transition, low and threatening. But when it's done, Derek raises his face towards the night and lets loose a terrifying howl. It is a warning. It is a demand.
Birds take flight, small woodland creatures scatter, deer and elk bolt. All eager away to be away from such a profound predator, and all knowing that should he give chase none would escape. For several moments there is absolute silence. Even the smallest of insects knowing better than to do anything to make themselves known. The woods are still, and Derek is surrounded by the dead silence of his own making.
Then, an answering call. It echoes across the night, spanning the distance between Beta and Alpha as if it were inches instead of miles. It is anxious and only a few octaves from afraid. Unwilling to heed the call, but unable to resist.
Scott.
The second call is loud and brash. Arrogance personified in a single, unrepentant sound. Close. And approaching. Coming to heel, not out of loyalty but a warped sense of superiority. As if a single Beta could ever hope to match any Alpha, let alone the one that had given it the Bite.
Jackson.
Derek opens his maw again, releases another terrible, rumbling howl. The answers come more quickly this time. Jackson first, and much closer than before. Nearly here. Then Scott, still some distance away but closing in. Derek estimates his arrival in a few minutes, Jackson in less.
As if on cue, Jackson comes bounding out of the tree line. He slows to a stop, rising to both his legs before the still lupine form of his Alpha. "What do you want, Derek? I was doing just fine out on my own tonight."
Such disrespect in other packs would have ended in the younger man's death, but Derek cannot afford to lose any of his pack right now. That does not mean his insolence can be overlooked, however. Derek doesn't want to be the iron-fisted dictator, but Jackson has to learn that being Wolf does not mean he is above everything. He still answers to the laws of nature, and the laws of Derek Hale.
With an almost careless gesture Derek slaps Jackson, making sure to dig his claws deep into the flesh of his face. Jackson falls and swears, but Derek lays his massive paw over his chest before the Beta can rise again. Lowering his monstrous jaws to hover a fraction of an inch from the pounding cardioid in Jackson's throat, Derek allows the wolf to fade.
"Having the Bite doesn't make you top dog, Jackson. I'm your Alpha. That means you treat me like a king. One who happens to have a very volatile temper and a fondness for execution."
"You're the Queen of Hearts, I get it." Jackson snaps.
"That mouth is going to get you killed, Jack." Derek sighs, pushing his hand through the hard muscle of the boy's chest. Not too deep. He's trying to make a point, not kill the arrogant asshat. The scream is very, very human. Too much pain for Jackson to even consider shifting. Not that it would have helped him any. Derek's glowing red eyes glare harshly into Jackson's human pale green. "I am your Alpha. You will obey."
A pitiful sound struggles from Jackson's lips. The whimper of the whipped pup. Derek remembers the sound, though it has been years since his father, his old Alpha, had drawn the noise from his throat. The will of Alpha cannot be disregarded. If Peter had stopped playing games sooner, revealed himself and compelled his and Scott's obedience, things would have ended much worse than they did. And considering this ending has brought war to their door, Derek doesn't like to think about the possibility of worse.
Derek pulls his hand from Jackson as Scott arrives. He hesitates when the scent of blood, heavy and thick and Jackson's, bombards his senses. Good. At the very least the past few months have taught Scott to be cautious if nothing else. One less thing for Derek to have to drill into the hardheaded moron.
Slowly, the wolf fades from Scott's features. "Everything okay?"
"No!" Jackson shouts, blood still dripping slowly down his face and chest as he climbs to his feet. "This asshole just had his hand inside my fucking chest!"
"Silence." Derek growls, watching with no small amusement as Jackson's mouth snaps shut. "Stay."
That one is directed at both Betas. Scott, who had been edging backwards, freezes. Jackson, who had taken a single, threatening step forward, becomes rooted to the spot. Derek sighs, fighting off an expected wave of exhaustion. He had hoped this would go smoother. That with a whole month to run around without constraints, Jackson would have tempered his distain and rebellion. That after all the time and effort he had spent training him to survive, Scott would have come to trust him.
They've hunted together. Killed together. Bound the Pack as one to him and he to the Pack. Derek isn't sure that it's supposed to be this hard to do something as simple as have a pack meeting. But maybe it is. Maybe being part of a pack means struggle. He doesn't know. He's been a lone wolf for so long, and his family, his Pack, were decimated before he was old enough to have a say in pack politics.
"What did you do?" Scott asks, voice scared. "And how come Jackson isn't healing?"
"I'm the Alpha. My word is law." Derek shrugs. He has to pretend that this doesn't bother him, that he's above the petty disputes of Betas. Because if he shows weakness, they won't follow him. He has to be strong. For all their sakes. "But it's a heavy handed tactic, used only by the most brutal or ineffective Alphas. I hope I won't need to use it again. And wounds from my hands don't heal as quickly because my punishments are not to be forgotten quickly."
"Why did you…er, call?" Scott swallows thickly, and Derek can smell the fear on him.
"Because." Derek sighs again; he is not suited to leadership. "Because the Argents have called in reinforcements. Because my uncle, crazed as he was, was stupid enough to start a war."
"War?" Scott screeches. A similarly panicked sound squawks from Jackson's throat, unable to be voiced.
"He killed an Argent. In front of two other Argent witnesses who lived to talk about it. He could have done nothing, let the Hunters take care of justice in their own way the way they have for generations when one of theirs breaks the Code. But he didn't. And I can guarantee that the rest of the Clans, regardless of what one member might feel, are not going to stop hunting this Pack until we're all dead."
"No." Scott shakes his head. "No, no, no, no. Alison wouldn't let her dad do that. Wouldn't let him hurt me."
"She's not going to have a choice. Between her and, oh, let's say fifty highly trained Hunters, who do you think is going to be calling the shots, dumbass?"
"What are you going to do? How do you make it stop?"
"Make it stop?" A mocking smile twists Derek's lips. "Well, we could ever so politely offer all our heads on a platter and hope they finish it quick. Or we kill them all first."
"NO!"
"Allison excluded. We're not monsters, Scott. Haven't you learned that by now? Their code is to hunt those that hunt them. I'm only suggesting we do the same."
"No. I won't. Allison will never forgive me if I start killing people. Especially if they're her family."
"Option three then. We do what Laura and I did six years ago. Run."
"We can't run! Our whole lives are here! What do we tell our parents? What do I tell Stiles?"
More strangled almost words from Jackson.
"Speak." Derek says. Because while this is technically his decision and he could make them go, he doesn't want to do that. He has a responsibility to do what is in the best interest of the Pack and all its members. If Scott and Jackson, who are the Pack, refuse to leave, Derek won't make them. Such a move would only breed dissent and, likely, get him murdered in his sleep by two wrathful Betas.
"You want us to run? Dude, we're the top of the fricking food chain. They should be running from us."
"That's the kind of thinking that'll get you killed." Derek sneers. "Three wolves against an army trained from birth to hunt us down and kill us. We're werewolves, not immortals."
"Then make more. Turn the whole damn town. Let's see them fight against that!" Jackson's eyes have the sickly sheen of fanatical mania. The kind of delusion that has led hundreds of men to pointless war and pointless death. Derek had been afraid of this, that Jackson would see only the power of the Wolf without the weakness. Arrogance and the Bite don't mix well.
"No." Derek's eyes flare crimson, the command of the Alpha lurking in his voice. "Packs are small and mobile, or they're dead. Any more than dozen and they become unstable. We lose mobility, and that's how they get us. You will never voice that suggestion, or any variant of it, again."
"Fine." There is nothing but distain in the words, but Derek has no control over that. He can force the Beta to obey, but not to respect.
"If we stay, we'll have to fight. Those are the options. Stay and fight, maybe die. Or run, now while we still have a hope getting away."
"I'm staying." Scott declares, eyes burning amber with the force of his belief. He wants to be here, believes he needs to be.
"Like hell I'm running." Jackson sneers. Superiority complex painted across every line of his face.
"Then we fight. Do you understand what that means? Selective recruiting, more training, the end of your lives as you knew them. No more lacrosse, you need to be here. No more parties, you need to be here. From this moment on, every waking moment outside of school is spent right here. Preparing for the bloodbath that's coming for us. Training you to survive." Derek blinks, surprised at himself. He can't remember the last time he strung so many words together at a time.
"Sounds like more fun than lacrosse anyways." Jackson shrugs.
"If it means staying, then okay."
"Okay. You guys finish out practice for the week, and then you walk away. And until then, we meet here after practice. Clear?"
Mutual nods of assent, but neither looks too happy with the idea.
This is just the beginning. This is how the war starts. And Derek knows that the chance of them all surviving it is almost nonexistent. But this is the decision of his Pack, and Derek will see it through until his dying breath. Hidden beneath the sound of his pounding heart, he can hear it.
The rhythm of the war drums.
They're coming.
"They killed Kate, turned children, and butchered half a dozen people." Chris says, voice dead. He forces himself to forget that the remaining Wolves, the Wolves he's about to declare war on, had killed Peter Hale. That only one member of the pack had shed human blood, that the others were innocent of wrongdoing. That Allison loved one of them. Because they are guilty of everything wrong in this world. Because they had killed Kate. His baby sister Kate. They had taken someone he loved from him, and he will not stand for it. "I'm calling a war council."
There's dead silence over the other line. A war council hasn't been called in over a hundred years. To declare war on the lycanthropes has only been done thrice in their entire history. It is only done in the most extreme cases against the most vicious and bloodthirsty werewolves. Chris knows the cost of such a war. Dozens of lives, civilian and hunter and lycan alike. Chaos in the streets the likes of which a small town like Beacon Hills has never seen. Open warfare. Streets turned into battlefields. Homes hollowed out and abandoned. Hospitals overrun with casualties. Supplies commandeered. Families ripped apart as the battle lines are drawn.
"We're coming."
Chris lets out a heavy sigh. He made that call nearly a month ago and the wheels are in motion now. He couldn't stop them even if he wanted to. The Clans are coming, and war is following fast on their heels. He has the perfect case for wiping out the remaining members of the Hale pack, even if Peter is already dead. It was his Pack, created from him. The line is tainted with his sins and, god help them, they are all going to burn for it.
They're coming.
But Allison loves him, whispers a traitorous part of himself. And they've hurt no one. They're innocent.
Chris shuts out the sound of his conscience, and prepares himself to begin and end a war. There's nothing more to be done. The decision has already been made. The council of clans will meet, will hear his case, and declare war. He cannot stop it. He doesn't want to stop it. Those monsters had killed Kate. Their leader had slaughtered innocents. The fact that they had turned against him in the end means nothing.
They're coming.
The sins of the father are revisited upon the son. Peter fathered the line and his sons will pay for his crimes. Vengeance will not be sated with reason. Rage will not calm before logic. Hatred will not bow to love.
They're coming.
And God help them all when they arrive. God help him for summoning them.
He whispers fervently, a sudden regretful prayer. "Father, forgive me for I know not what I do. Forgive them their trespasses and welcome them into Your holy embrace. They are neither man nor animal, but they are Your creatures. They'll be arriving shortly, if we have anything to say about it."
They're coming to kill them all. And he's done this. In a moment of rage and grief and pain. He's signed their death warrants. Played judge and jury and executioner. He's done this. This is his fault. And he cannot undo it. Cannot stop the approaching storm.
The rhythm of the war drums echoes silently in the distance, as certain and real as the earth beneath his feet.
They're coming.