Hale Legacy
Derek knows pain.
In fact, he is very familiar with that particular sensation.
He knows what it feels like when a knife guts him open. How much it hurts when a barbed arrow gets stuck in his shoulder, even more so when it is removed.
He knows the agony that comes with being impaled by an iron bar, how hard it is to breathe, especially when it's getting slowly twisted and turned by a sadistic female Alpha, just to make the experience as excruciatingly painful as possible.
He knows how his entire body convulses when hundreds of volts of electricity run through it. How hard he clenches his jaw, afraid to break a tooth while at the same time unable to give a damn.
He also knows how sharp werewolf claws are, how agonizing the pain is when they cut through skin and muscles, sometimes right through to his bones.
And he knows how wolfsbane is affecting his body, making him weak and sick. How it feels like being on the brink of death, when it's almost too late …
Frankly, it's a miracle he survived this long.
And the odds were rarely in his favor. Sometimes it was pure luck he made it through. Nine out of ten times he had help. And more often than not from the unlikeliest of people … But no matter what kind of torture he had to endure, his wounds always healed up, completely, leaving no scars behind.
No physical ones, at least.
Derek has mental scars that go deeper than any knife could cut.
But that's another story.
Derek is mad at Kate for stealing his powers.
That goes without saying.
And of course, he wants them back. Slowly but surely losing the gifts bestowed upon him at birth – the heightened senses, the inhuman speed and strength – has been hard. To say the least.
Being human makes him uncomfortable, and weak.
Weak, but not completely useless. He still possesses his fighting skills. And Braeden's crash course in "Human survival 101" definitely taught him some pointers.
But in the end it doesn't matter.
He knows the risks by coming here. He knows that he isn't going be a match for Kate and the berserkers. Not by a long shot. He knows going up against them with human weapons and human strength is a suicide mission.
But that doesn't stop him from joining the rescue mission. Or Stiles for that matter, who has no fighting skills or supernatural powers to begin with. Not unless you take his sharp mind and his wicked mouth into account.
It's a matter of principle and loyalty, for both of them. Not revenge, like it always seems to be for Peter. Revenge and never-ending strive for power.
Derek doesn't want revenge. He might have sought power in the past, but not anymore.
All he wants to do now is help. Help as best as he can. If only playing his part as a diversionary tactic.
When Derek gets slashed, it's sharp and quick.
And kinda unexpected. Despite the odds, he thought he would last a little longer. At least long enough to do … something.
Braeden fights off the berserker by emptying her shotgun into its body. She doesn't manage to kill it. But she scares it off which gives the others the chance to get inside the church to find and rescue Scott and Kira.
Then she is at his side, trying her best to console him.
"I'm not gonna let you die." She vows. And Derek wants to believe her. Her willingness to help him, no matter how impossible it seems, still astounds him to no end.
When they first meet he is cautious. Of course, he is careful. After everything that happened he doesn't allow himself to trust that easily. He has been burnt before, one too many times.
Funny thing – trusting women, besides his mother, has never been his strong suit.
But in time Derek learns to trust Braeden. He respects her. He admires her strength to pull through, to see the good in a bad situation. He approves of her stubbornness, her reluctance to give up, even though it seems pointless at times.
All valid points to form a deeper bond, sure. And he could do worse than her. Hell, he's done way worse. Twice. But despite the moments of intimacy they've shared, he has been missing something vital right from the start.
The feeling of belonging. Of being home.
In retrospect all his relationships after Paige have been fleeting, inconsequential (where it counts). They were about healing, mostly, even though he didn't realize at the time.
Kate, Jennifer, Braeden.
The latter doesn't exactly fall into the same category as the two others, but the fact remains the same. In the beginning she is a means to an end. But not anymore.
Nevertheless, even with his sisters, Laura and Cora, he had his issues.
As a matter of fact, in the early days he blamed Laura for being so stupid to go back to Beacon Hills without him, getting herself killed in the process, leaving him alone, to fend for himself, yet again. But he forgave her, eventually. And naturally, after the seemingly never-ending problems he had with his uncle, he was happy to find out that one more member of his family had survived the fire. Despite the circumstances and the awkwardness of their reunion, he gladly relinquished his Alpha powers to save Cora's life.
It might have taken him awhile to figure it out, but he finally realized that sacrificing one's power was sometimes worth it. His little sister is safe and sound back in South America, living with the pack she was with before her short, pointless return to Beacon Hills.
Derek can tell he isn't going to make it. Sure, if Braeden would take him to a hospital, he might be going to make it. But even if that were an option, the odds are rather slim.
This is final.
He tells Braeden that he is ready to die.
It's not like he is giving up. He just knows it's his time. He is not going to make it. Not out here, in the Mexican desert, far away from any medical facility. And he cannot bring himself to ask Braeden to get him out of harm's way. She is needed here.
He closes his eyes, breathing deeply and slowly. The pain is still there, but it's dulled.
He can still hear Braeden's voice, sad and full of tears. He wants to tell her that he is thankful. Thankful for her help, for showing him how to adapt, how be human, for telling him over and over again that he isn't helpless. But more importantly he wants to thank her for showing him that he can still feel. Even if she isn't the ONE for him, she is still his friend.
Braeden's grief-stricken tone of voice and the strange, almost torn look on Stiles' face are the last things on his mind before he succumbs to the darkness.
'Some memories stay with you forever while other's fade in time.'
He misses his mother.
Now more than ever.
At first Derek feels unnerved.
Understandably, since no one told him what to expect. The only person able to give him insights on life after death would be Peter. But given his nature, he probably wouldn't have been very forthcoming. Or honest.
If Derek had asked. Which he hadn't.
Opening his eyes slowly, Derek finds himself sitting inside a root cellar. A root cellar that looks very familiar.
The Nemeton.
He is sitting in the very same spot where he killed Paige. But there is no blood on the roots. In fact, the place looks peaceful and clean, softly illuminated by rays of sunshine filtering through the open cellar door. It's warm and cozy. Almost like a home. Which it isn't.
He doesn't have a home anymore. It burnt down years ago, along with most of his family members trapped inside.
"It's my fault …" He mourns.
'It's not!'
The curt retort comes out of nowhere. Derek looks around, searching for the source. He knows the person that voice belongs to. Just when he thinks he is hallucinating he can hear footsteps. No, not footsteps, but the soft padding of paws. He looks up and sees a black wolf coming down the wooden staircase. Its movements are fluid, almost graceful.
The wolf stops right in front of him, sitting back on its haunches, staring at him with its dark, soulful eyes. The white rings around the eyes are in stark contrast to the rest of the black fur, naturally drawing one's attention to them.
"Mom." He breathes, feeling happy and relieved, but at the same time guilty.
He failed her.
The she-wolf shakes her head, almost like she is able to hear his thoughts and disagrees. Suddenly the air is shimmering, sizzling with energy and then his mother sits before him, in her human form, dressed in her favorite robe. Derek knows that she should be naked. Clothes don't appear or disappear during the shifts. But then again, this is limbo, or whatever plane of existence, and the same rules might not apply here.
"Der," Talia Hale says, using his pet name in that annoying sort of way, the one he always hated. Not to scold him, but to tell him he is wrong. "You didn't fail me. I'm well aware of everything that happened. And even though I don't approve of every choice you made, you did your best under the circumstances. You may have your flaws, but your heart is in the right place."
"You keep telling me that." Derek huffs, not truly believing her. How can his heart be in the right place, when he makes so many wrong decisions?
"And you still don't listen." Talia admonishes, laughing lightly. God, he missed that sound. When she reaches out to stroke his cheek, Derek leans into the touch. He is surprised that he can actually feel it, but he doesn't question it. He simply wants to enjoy the sensation, for as long as it lasts.
"But I lost my powers anyway." He whispers.
"You cannot truly lose what's rightfully yours." She disagrees. "You know how it works. There are three ways to become an Alpha. The most common – and most natural – is to fill the void in a pack when the Alpha dies. Like your sister did. The second is also well-known and often executed. It's the way your uncle used, or the twins, to steal the power from another. And then there is the rise of a True Alpha. It's rare but not unheard off. You've seen it happening yourself."
"Scott."
"Yes. He is a remarkable young man." Talia muses. "But he lacks a certain talent. A talent that is almost as rare as his rise to Alpha status."
"You mean being able to shape shift."
"Yes."
"How do you know he cannot do it? He rarely ever changes into his Beta-form." Derek argues.
"I know he can't. He doesn't have the gene. He is bitten, right? Only born werewolves are able to do it. In fact, only werewolves coming from a certain line ..."
"Like ours."
"Correct."
"But Peter couldn't do it." Derek points out.
"My brother was never supposed to become the Alpha." Talia sneers. Her body slightly trembles with rage. Even here and now, she is still angry with her brother. Derek never knew why they didn't get along. He never dared to ask. Fortunately, now he doesn't have to. "Peter is … well, to put it bluntly, he is a psychopath. He knew right from the start that he would never inhered the mantle of being the Alpha. I was the eldest and my mother groomed me to be her successor, the same way I did with your sister Laura. Both decisions never sat well with him. I don't know if Peter is just prejudiced, thinking only a male Alpha is strong enough to lead a pack, or if he simply seeks power. But the things he did to obtain it … there are no excuses. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I should have warned you and your sister."
Derek doesn't know what to say. He knows his mother would have done anything to protect her children, if she'd had the chance. And she wasn't responsible for his uncle's actions.
Talia smiles affectionately, clearly sensing his thoughts again.
"I can teach you how to do it. Shape shift, I mean." She sounds very eager.
"Why? I'm dead."
"Maybe. But there is death, and there is DEATH. There are always loopholes. Even your uncle knows that." Talia sounds less than happy about that fact. "What if it can help you regain your strength, help you heal? Don't you want to return? There are people who still need your help, who would miss you. Like that girl …"
"Braeden? She is just a friend. I don't love her. I like her. But I don't love her." Derek has no idea why he is intent on making the distinction clear.
"I know." Talia says. He can't tell if she is just being perceptive, or if there's more to it. "You are meant for someone else."
"Who?"
Talia doesn't answer, only smiles warmly. Derek knows better than to pry. It wouldn't do any good to ask her for a name.
"Maybe your emissary can guide you to the right person."
"My emissary?"
"Don't tell me you haven't figured that one out yet?" Talia sounds almost disappointed.
Derek racks his brain. He knows she is not talking about Deaton, or his sister Marin. The only other person who has ever tried to give him advice is …
"Stilinski?"
"If you mean the Sheriff's son, then yes."
"Stiles? You must be joking." He barks out, shaking his head.
"I never joke when it comes to such important things."
"But he is just a kid. And no druid as far as I know. He is a mouthy, defiant, a total spaz."
"Emissaries come in all shape and sizes. And you know he has magic."
"That trick with the mountain ash in front of the club two years ago? Pure luck." Derek dismisses.
"There is a fine line between luck and skill. If he didn't have magic in him the Nogitsune would not have chosen him. For doing what it did. And you've seen how he managed to calm down Liam just now. And he is smart, intuitive, always on guard, and very protective …"
"Okay, you can stop now. I see your point. But why would he be my emissary? If that's what he is – an emissary – shouldn't he be Scott's? They are best friends. Stiles and I – we can barely tolerate each other."
"I know. You fight a lot." It's a statement not a question.
"Yes."
"And you rarely agree on anything." Talia continues in that same even tone.
"Yes."
"But he is mostly right." She finally concludes.
"Yes." Derek grounds out, finally losing his patience. "Where are you going with this, Mom? Other than to prove me right. We don't belong together."
"I didn't say anything about belonging together." Talia admonishes, halfheartedly. There is a twinkle in her eyes Derek cannot interpret. Or rather he doesn't want to. "Do you think Deaton and I got along right from the start? Hardly." She laughs. "In the first days we fought like cats and dogs. No pun intended. We seemed to have different opinions about, well, everything. But we were young. Older than you two are, but still young. It took time and effort on both sides. But we made it work. And having an emissary at your side doesn't mean you have to submit. It will strengthen your position as Alpha."
"I'm not an Alpha anymore." Derek interjects.
"You're still not listening to me …"
"I am listening." Derek argues like a petulant child. "What you are saying is you will teach me how to shape shift so that I can go back. Be alive again."
"Precisely."
Derek can tell she is giving him the choice. His life has always been about choices, good ones and bad ones. If he makes the wrong one now, there is no do-over, no second chance. It's either this or be dead, for good.
Maybe it's the way his mother is pleading with him with her eyes, or the ideas she has put into his head about Stiles, but in the end it doesn't matter. Even though he told Braeden that he was ready, he is not. There is so much he still wants to do. Such much he has yet to experience. If this was his only chance, he is going to take it.
"Okay. What do I have to do?"
That story has been plaguing me for quite some time. It has potential for a multi-chaptered story, I know. But for now I'm going to leave it as it is. A one-shot.