Author's note: I know I should be working on the end of No Answer but I got a severe case of writer's block and found myself drawn back to this story that I started about a month ago. It's set in an AU after episode 7, where Chris and Kate decide to send Allison and her mother back to San Francisco for safety, and thus, Scott never sees her again. Most everything else from the show happened, except the Argents don't know that Scott is the second beta. I originally intended for this to be a one shot but if there's enough interest, I may end up doing a series of one shots based in this AU.
In full disclosure, I found myself wanting to write this after reading another fanfic here by the author "unclescar," The Fight for Dominance, so if you notice any similarities, s/he came up with it first. The idea of Scott becoming an alpha was really intriguing to me and I really wanted to put my own spin on it. If you don't mind slash, I'd recommend reading unclescar's original if you haven't already.
Rated T for language and violence.
Oh, and I don't own Teen Wolf.So sad for me.
Flexing his bloody claws and breathing hard, Scott stood over the broken, smoking body of Peter Hale, the alpha wolf that bit him three months ago in the woods. The one responsible for the turmoil that skewered Scott's life, and the lives of those around him. One moment, one bite was all it had taken to give Scott everything he had always wanted and damn him at the same time. It was supposed to be considered a gift. In Scott's opinion, it had ruined his life.
It sent Allison away.
Scott was ready to give it all up. Back to second line, back to being unnoticed, back to inhalers and asthma attacks. Back to being a nobody. But he wouldn't be at the mercy of the wolf. He wouldn't be prone to the bursts of anger that threatened to overtake him. He could go out with his friends (or friend, rather) on a full moon without being a threat to their lives. He wouldn't have to feel the bones shift in his head and hands, the tingling pain that coursed through his body right before the wolf took over. Most of all, Scott could prove to Mr. Argent he was good for Allison and go after her; facebook her, text her, anything, she couldn't be far. Her father sent her and her mother away during the week the school was closed down following the alpha attack on Scott and his friends. But she'd listen to him. He would have nothing to hide anymore. She could trust him again, Scott was sure of it. With the wolf gone, it was possible.
Scott could hear Stiles cautiously approach him from Jackson's Porche. Because of them, this moment was possible. Stiles and Jackson had shown up just in time with the Molotov cocktails that had set Peter ablaze just as he was about to finish Scott off, having run out of patience with him to fall in line with the pack. One of the fire bombs had hit the alpha in the shoulder, setting his arm on fire, and made him drop Scott from his grip. The other struck him in the chest and he reared back as the rest of his body was engulfed in flames. They listened to the alpha howl and roar in pain. The chemical make up of the bombs worked quickly and within minutes the alpha had sunk to his knees and fell on his back, slowly reverting back to his human form.
What was left of the alpha, now more closely resembling Peter Hale once more, gazed up at Scott. Red eyes were beginning to fade into the ice blue they had once been. If left alone, his body would heal, eventually. It took years for the burns from the Hale fire to heal, however, Peter had been in a coma for most of it, his body unable to react to the damage that was done. But now, still conscious, Scott had no idea how fast or slow the massive healing would take. He had to strike now, before his chance at a cure was gone forever.
Stiles called to him. Scott raised his head to look at his best friend. "Where's Derek?" Stiles asked.
Scott shook his head, looking back down at Peter. "I don't know," he growled. "Back in the house is where I last saw him."
Stiles nodded towards Peter. "He dead? Did you kill him?" Stiles moved closer towards the smoking body.
Peter growled at him viciously and Stiles jumped back, making a weird gasping sound as he did. Jackson stood frozen by his car, unable to react. Peter was trying to speak, staring at Scott, the only werewolf he created in his lifetime. Nothing but garbled noises came out of his mouth.
"No, I'm still cursed," Scott said in a low voice. "He's not dead...yet."
He heard Stiles gulp at the tone of his voice. Scott swore to himself that after today, he'd never have cause for Stiles to make a sound like that again.
At the thought of making his first kill, the wolf inside him reared up, scratching at the surface of his mind. Scott had yet to shed anyone's blood. It was part of the reason why Peter felt he was such a hopeless excuse of a pack member. No matter how many times he had called Scott out to kill with him, he had somehow managed to bury the urge, suffocate it and keep it at bay. Scott couldn't allow that to happen now. He needed every ounce of instinct he could muster to finish this. And as much as he hated to admit it, the thought of feeling blood rush over his lips and hands for the first time left him sickly intrigued.
Scott's thoughts were racing together in his mind, knowing he needed to act quickly, before Peter Hale regained any strength. His body will have to be dismembered somehow, to keep him from regenerating. Will that be enough for the cure? What would Derek do?
Scott closed his eyes and tried to focus on everything Derek had tried to teach him in the few lessons they had had. "Use your instincts, open up your senses," he had told him. Scott took notice of the neck. Charred and blistered, he could see blood beneath the skin being pumped through arteries and veins. He could hear the beating of the heart, slow and irregular; the lungs, its breathing shallow and wet. If I slash his throat, he'd bleed out, Scott reasoned, maybe the skin is too burned to heal itself. I wonder how much blood is still in him.At that thought, Scott felt his lips pull back in anticipation revealing the vicious looking canines in his mouth. Then, he heard Peter speak.
"You...you want it," he rasped. It sounded like a question.
Of course he wanted it! A cure was all he wanted! Scott dropped to his knees over the body, the rage he felt against the alpha threatening to consume him. With a growl, Scott's left hand went to Peter's neck, squeezing it, letting his claws dig in. Peter made choking sounds that only made Scott want to squeeze harder. Scott lowered his head closer towards Peter's face, his eyes narrowing with anger, growling. He released his left hand and looked at his right. He felt the weight of the claws at the tip of each finger, sharp and deadly. He started to imagine how they would feel slicing through skin. 'This is it,' Scott thought. Scott found himself shaking with anticipation.
"I'm taking it." Scott said the words, waiting, wanting to see a reaction on Peter's face. He felt a growl escape from Peter's chest, pathetic and small. He was preparing to say more, mustering up his strength to get out the entire sentence. Then the words slithered out from Peter's mouth like a snake. "You can try," he gasped, "but I never had much hope for you to begin with."
No one ever thought he was good enough; not his father, not Derek, and not even Peter Hale. That particular declaration left Scott livid. With a yell, he raised his right arm and brought it swiftly down across Peter's throat. He felt his claws catch on the bone of his spine as he severed the windpipe and sliced through circulation, blood spraying him from the wound. He watched Peter's face as he began to die. His eyes burned red one last time before fading to an empty gray. Gurgling noises escaped his mouth as he drowned in his own blood. Then, he went still.
When it was done, Scott gasped in relief and looked up, as if he might be able to see a part of Peter Hale escape this plane of existence. Honest happiness rose up inside him as he waited with anticipation to feel his body change back for the final time. Scott bowed his head, his gaze traveled to his right hand, held in front of him. Blood stained his fingers, his claws. 'Still? I'm not cured yet?' Licking his lips, he tasted blood. He still felt fangs in his mouth; they grazed his lower lip. Scott looked at what was left of Peter Hale. He couldn't stop staring at the dead body beneath him. With his thoughts rushing like a river through his head, Scott could hear voices in the background. What were they saying? Why didn't this work?No sooner had that thought crashed into his mind, he knew what was left.
The body had to be dismembered.
He could hear Stiles coming towards him. He was saying something, but Scott wasn't listening. He needed his cure and it was right there in front of him! With desperation, Scott took both his hands and cradled Peter Hale's head, a hand on each side and twisted. With one great pull and a sickening crack, he decapitated Peter Hale.
"Scott! No! Don't!" It was Derek. Scott felt a little relieved that Derek wasn't dead. He turned his head towards Derek's voice, seeing Stiles moving towards him, but stop short. He dropped the head of Peter Hale to the ground and his hands met the dirt. He wanted to get up but his head felt heavy. He was waiting for his body to change back. He killed the alpha, he should feel the familiar tingle as the wolf receded forever.
But he didn't. Scott felt something worse starting to bubble up inside him.
Now Derek approached him. He was bruised and battered from the fight earlier, but healing. He was breathing heavy and staring at Scott with an incredulous look on his face. Stiles appeared next to him.
"Scott, what did you do?" Derek asked directly.
Scott raised his head and looked at both of them, squinting his eyes, as if the faint moonlight was too bright. "I killed him," he said plainly, getting up gingerly from the ground. His head ached. His whole body ached. He grit his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as he did, trying to clear his head. "I killed the alpha. I'm gonna be cured," Scott rubbed his eyes, trying to extinguish the burning sensation he kept feeling. "Right?" he asked. He felt a prick on his nose. A claw had scratched him. Holding out his hands quizzically, he stared at the claws. 'Why aren't they gone?' He looked to Derek. "Why aren't I changing back?" He looked to Stiles, who was biting his lower lip, a nervous tick he'd always had. "Stiles?" Stiles couldn't answer him, but instead looked to Derek, trying to coax information out of him. "Stiles, what is it?"
Stiles' mouth dropped open, searching for words. When he found them, he said, "Scott...you killed the alpha."
"I know." Why did he repeat shit like this?
"I don't think it was a cure, Scott."
"Why?" he asked, disbelieving. He shook his head violently. "It has to be! I feel different already!" Scott insisted, panic obvious in his voice.
"Scott..." Derek began.
"No! You said that was the cure! Kill the one who bit you, that's what you said, and that's what I did!" Scott shouted. He was getting angry. He felt the wolf rumble inside. "Why isn't it gone? Do I have to wait until morning or something? Wait til the next full moon? What?"
"No!" Derek interrupted him. "I told you I wasn't sure that was the cure, it was only a rumor I'd heard." He looked sorry. He held a hand out to placate him. "Scott," he started. "You killed the alpha." He pronounced the words carefully, trying to make sure Scott would grasp the meaning of the situation.
Scott didn't want to admit that his cure might be something worse. He couldn't even bring him self to entertain the idea that he might... "No, no, no, no, this can't happen! Don't!" Scott pleaded. "Don't say it, please!" Stiles tried to step closer to help his friend, but Scott shoved him away, hard enough to rip his shirt. It was an action Scott immediately regretted and he began to back away from the both of them. He felt his back rest up against the rough bark of a tree. Scott doubled over, the heavy pain now radiating throughout his body. 'This is worse, this is so much worse than before,' he thought. He could feel himself start to shake. He gripped his head, feeling his claws, so much sharper than before, digging into his scalp. He wailed, any coherent words feeling foreign on his tongue. His clothes were restricting him. He heard the sounds of breaking bones, felt himself stretch and bend unnaturally. Scott McCall just couldn't hold on to it anymore. He needed to let it go.
Stiles had to watch as his friend became a monster. He watched as Scott's beta werewolf form twisted and grew into that of an alpha, like Peter Hale had been. The worst part was watching his eyes - they were no longer golden colored, but an angry, fiery red. Nothing good had come from eyes like that, in Stiles' opinion.
With a howl like he hadn't heard before, Stiles watched as Scott transformed into the new alpha. Stiles covered his ears and turned away to find that Jackson, still back by his car, was doing the same, a look of abject horror plastered across his otherwise perfect features. As Stiles turned back around, Derek had stepped in front of Stiles to protect him from the new alpha wolf that had enveloped his friend. In a flash, Derek transformed himself as well, bent in a defensive stance. "Don't hurt him," he found himself yelling to Derek.
Stiles wasn't sure that Derek heard him until he heard him reply, "It's not him you should be worried about. Stay quiet and don't move."
Stiles slowly removed his hands from his ears, his eyes never leaving what used to be Scott. Is it even still Scott?, he wondered. With Peter Hale, the alpha wolf seemed to be quite aware of who he was regardless of his form; but he had been born that way, with instincts to help instruct his body on how to react. Stiles assumed that Scott might not have that luxury. The alpha wolf in front of them now seemed disoriented, shaking its head, its unsteady breath forming puffs of steam in the cold, autumn night. Surrounding him were the remains of whatever clothing Scott had been wearing: ripped pieces of denim, remnants of a cotton tee and hoodie, canvas sneakers, and the second hand leather jacket he'd bought at Goodwill. With all the terrible things that were happening tonight, Stiles couldn't help but think that Scott would be disappointed to find out the jacket was now ruined.
Stiles couldn't stand by any longer, watching his friend struggle with this, again, only times a thousand. Tentatively, he called out to him. "Scott?" He watched as the alpha became steadier, its breathing deeper. He heard a long and low growl, but he wasn't sure which werewolf was making it.
Then, as if confirming it for Stiles, Derek did growl. Stiles reasoned it was an attempt to keep him quiet. "Well, you're not doing anything," quiet exasperation in his voice.
The alpha jerked its head to their direction. Its teeth bared, eyes flashing an angry red, it appeared to issue a warning towards Derek. Stiles watched as Derek lowered himself closer to the ground, almost submissively, never breaking eye contact with the alpha. This worried Stiles, he knew Derek Hale was anything but submissive.
Stiles wanted to try again. "Scott? Are - are you ok?" This time, Derek didn't respond but watched the alpha, who had locked its gaze on Stiles and Derek. Quick as lightning, the alpha lunged forward, snapping its teeth at the pair. Derek growled and forced themselves back and away, still staying low. Stiles watched as the alpha warily looked between them and what he assumed was Jackson back at the car. He could tell the alpha was tense, muscles ready to spring into action in any direction, but also uncertain. Just something about its posture indicated it wasn't going to attack. 'Maybe Scott is there after all,' Stiles thought hopefully.
Before Stiles got a chance to try and reach through to his friend once more, the wolf moved. The alpha, still growling, took a small step backwards, then another. Suddenly, with a resounding howl, it retreated into the woods, faster than Stiles could see.
"Wait! Where's he going? What are we gonna do about him?" Stiles stammered questions to Derek, who had now reverted back to his human form and looked worried. "What about all this?" he gestured to the aftermath of the fight all around them, including the corpses of Peter Hale and Kate Argent.
"I'm going to have to follow him, make sure he's ok, and try to get him to come back," Derek answered, looking through the shredded clothing on the ground. "A three month old beta becoming alpha is unheard of. I really don't know what to expect when I get to him." Derek looked back to Jackson and his car, wrinkling his nose. He quickly strode over to him, making Jackson cower a little.
"You have clothes in there?" Derek asked, nodding to Jackson's porche.
"Uh, ye-yeah," Jackson stammered. "Gym clothes in the back. Why?"
"Just give them to me!"
Jackson scrambled to comply, while Stiles rushed over to them, asking "What the hell do you need those for?" Derek took the duffel bag, despite the obvious smell invading his nostrils, from Jackson and slung it across his chest and over his shoulder, securing it close to his body.
"I have to find Scott. If he can shift back, he'll be naked. He'll freeze in this weather. Shitty, used gym clothes are better than nothing."
"IF? Wh- what do you mean, if he can shift back?" Stiles didn't like the way this situation was unfolding around him.
Derek explained quickly. "Look, we need to act fast. I'm going to track Scott. You two, grab what's left of his clothes, don't leave anything that shows Scott was even here, you understand? This place will be crawling with Hunters any minute, and then police. We don't need anyone to suspect Scott of anything. I have my cell and I'll take Scott's - I'll contact you as soon as I have any kind of update." He paused. "I don't know how long this will take. Stiles, you might have to stall if anyone starts looking for Scott or file a missing person's report. Don't let them do it unless you hear otherwise from me." He looked at the both of them to make sure they understood the complexity. "You have to protect Scott's identity now. Don't fuck this up. Now clean up and get the hell out of here." He turned to go. He located Scott's phone in the back pocket of what was left of his jeans. He took a last look at the two teens, who began to move towards the clothing to follow his orders, before shifting and taking off on Scott's scent through the woods.
Derek had been tracking Scott for over two hours. The path he was following was not a straight path but rather it zigged and zagged through the trees and underbrush. The tactic made it tougher for Derek to stay on his trail. At one point, he had come across the fresh carcass of a deer, slaughtered almost beyond recognition. He wasn't sure how far ahead Scott may be, but he was sure he was reaching the boundaries of the territory of the Hale family pack; a territory that now technically belonged to Scott. Derek did not know for certain what lay beyond those lines. He hoped it wasn't another pack. He didn't like the idea of having another pack so close. If such a pack existed and realized that this territory was going to be run by a weak alpha, he was sure they would make a play to take it. The last thing Derek Hale would allow is his family land to taken by a different pack. Scott, at least technically, belonged to the Hale pack; he could tolerate that.
Exhausted, Derek began to slow down so he could regroup his senses and adjust his plan. The whole area he was in reeked of Scott's new alpha scent. 'He's been here recently,' he thought to himself. 'But how recent?' Looking up through the trees, Derek could see the waxing moon, pale light filtering down between branches. He quietly thanked whatever Powers That Be that this wasn't a full moon. He began studying the ground looking for signs to take him in the right direction, when he heard it. The slight crackle of a leaf crunching under pressure and movement. Derek froze, trying to hear more. When no other sound could be heard, he raised his head, tentatively looking around, hoping to find Scott nearby. But he saw nothing.
Until a giant mass slammed into him from behind, Derek found himself with two, large, clawed hands wrapped around his neck, lifting his body up against a tree. Scott bared his teeth at Derek, anger radiating off of him in waves, growls coming from his throat. Derek gasped for breath, trying to speak, trying to reach Scott somehow. Derek's own hands reached up to his neck, an attempt to pry the claws away from his skin but to no avail. It was when Derek began to think that he might lose consciousness, he began to realize that Scott's growling was actually starting to sound like words. He leaned in close to Derek, repeating what he had been trying to say.
"You...you," Scott was trying to get the words out. "You lied to me! LIED!" he roared.
Derek felt the grip on his neck begin to lessen and his feet touched the ground. Breath came easier and his mind a little less hazy from the lack of oxygen. Derek opened his eyes and saw Scott in front of him, watching his form shrink and return to that of a beta werewolf and then finally, human, even though his eyes still remained a flashing crimson. Scott released him unsteadily and stepped back.
Derek took in gulps of air, watching Scott as he was pacing back and forth a few feet away from him. He was naked and covered in dirt and blood, mostly on his hands, feet and face. Scott appeared disoriented, jerking his head in every direction at the slightest sound or movement, as if on constant guard. Derek heard him mumble to himself. "I need to keep going, but I can't. Where can I go? Can't go further..." Ah, he senses the boundaries of the territory, Derek realized. Derek decided to try to speak with him again and snap him out of this.
"Scott? Are you ok?" he said tentatively, holding a hand up in front of him in a display of restraint, hoping to help Scott calm down. He watched as Scott stilled himself, his eyes now focusing on Derek once more. A snarl came across Scott's face as he began to approach Derek.
"OK?" he asked derisively. "You're seriously asking me that? NONE OF THIS IS OK!" Scott's sharp tone echoed around them. "Why did you tell me that was the cure? Why weren't you there? Why?" Scott punctuated the question by slamming his fist into the tree bark, right next to Derek's head.
Derek did not flinch, but steadily met Scott's accusatory look. "I'm sorry," he said, trying to convey regret, but instead sounding impatient, like usual. He went on explaining. "Its my fault. All of it. I kept things from you and Stiles that I shouldn't have. Because of that, things happened that were not supposed to."
"...not supposed to," Scott echoed and then a sarcastic laugh escaped him, and he backed away from Derek by a few feet. Turning around, he pitched forward to his knees, punching the soft ground in front of him. "That's the story of my life. My parents weren't supposed to get divorced, I wasn't supposed to make first line, Allison wasn't supposed to leave me, and I sure as hell know that I wasn't supposed to become a FUCKING ALPHA WEREWOLF!" His scream gave away to a wail of frustration.
'Well, at least he's not in denial,' Derek thought. Acceptance was a step in the right direction tonight, but there was still plenty left to worry about. The transformation left Scott unstable. The shift from beta to alpha was supposed to be an overwhelming sensation that rushed through the body that can leave you feeling swept up, like in a rip current. The amount of speed, strength, and sensory overload that encompassed a new alpha was enough to throw even an experienced werewolf off his game for a night or two. Instincts to hunt, to kill, to dominate - werewolf survival instincts - crush the consciousness and can keep the new alpha in a precarious state of mind. In this instance, the pack is there to support its leader. At least, that's how Derek's father had explained it to him long ago. Derek had found himself hoping to experience that sensation at some point in his life, become the alpha. He almost had, too, if he hadn't underestimated his own uncle's prowess and Scott's own desire to become human again. If he was going to stay near his ancestral home, he will have to submit to being Scott's beta. Being a beta forever hadn't been something in his long term plan and it was his own fault.
A trickle of guilt was beginning to pile up inside Derek's conscience, as he watched Scott agonize over his new state of being. Of any werewolf Derek had ever come across, Scott McCall had been the only one who did not crave power and status. He would give everything if it meant he could return to a "normal life". Derek had always tried to assure him that Scott would grow into his new life, mostly just to get him to stop whining. But Derek knew deep down, that this was a life Scott did not desire in the slightest. Derek knew now that it was his duty to support his new alpha and get him home. He owed Scott that at least.
"Take it back."
Derek was jolted out of his thoughts by Scott's voice. He looked up to see Scott, still kneeling but craning his neck to look back at Derek. "What did you just say?"
Scott stood up and repeated his command, louder this time. "Take it back. Defeat me. Isn't that how it works? Defeat me and you can be alpha." Scott got right in Derek's face. "It's what you wanted, right? So, go ahead, take it! Hit me, knock me out..."
Derek started shaking his head. "It doesn't work that way, Scott," he began to explain.
"Why not?" Scott interjected. "I mean, it was a complete fluke that this happened anyway! A goddamn loophole in whatever werewolf magic shit that you refused to tell us about. I didn't really hurt Peter, I just took advantage of the situation. It's not like I overpowered him. I wasn't stronger than him. I don't deserve it! It shouldn't have happened to me!"
Derek tried hard not to lose his patience with Scott. "But it did happen, Scott, you gave him the killing blow and now the only way out is through a fight to the death! Is that what you want? Have you really lost any will to live? Does she matter that much?" At the mention of his ex-girlfriend, Scott's eyes flashed and Derek sensed him bristling with anger. With no further objection from Scott, Derek continued. "I'll admit it, I planned to take the alpha position from Peter. I knew for certain if I killed him, I'd be alpha, but I didn't know for certain if you killing him would cure you. I didn't lie about that, it really was just a rumor I'd heard, but I knew if I told you, it'd be enough to get you to help me. I didn't expect things to go the way they did tonight." He sighed. "There's no going back from being alpha, Scott. The only way out is death. I'd have to kill you."
"Then do it. I'm not living like this," Scott sounded hopeless, stepping back and hanging his head. "I just can't." He looked up to Derek, his eyes watery, his voice desperate. His head shook back and forth. "I can't. It's too much."
Derek considered what Scott was saying. Surely, he couldn't really mean it. Scott was depressed about being bitten three months ago, but Derek knew he didn't want to die. But out here, miles from his home, Derek wondered if he could do it: kill Scott, become alpha. If he truly didn't fight back, Derek could make a plausible defense that there had been an accident, or any number of scenarios. Then, that little prickle of guilt nagged at the edge of his mind. He tried imagining landing a killing blow on top of the boy's head. Derek remembered his sister, Laura, and imagined what her final thoughts were as she realized her own blood relation was killing her for her status. He didn't want to hurt Scott, and in all honesty, wasn't sure if he could. Derek let out an annoyed sound. "Even if I tried to defeat you, I seriously don't think you'd let me."
"Wh-what do you mean?"
Derek waited a moment. He hoped what he did next didn't get him killed. In a second, he sent his fist out, ready to land a deadly punch to the side of Scott's face. Except, it didn't connect. With a growl, Scott's own hand, half transformed, had blocked it. Scott then viciously bent the arm at an unnatural angle, not stopping until a crack was heard. Derek screamed in pain as he fell onto his back. For the second time that night, Derek felt the strength of Scott's claws circling around his neck. Through the pain he felt, Derek let his body go limp, hoping Scott's senses would pick up on how little of a threat he now was.
It worked. Scott let go, breathing heavily, and stood back up, backing away. Although Scott had shifted to his new alpha form instantaneously, he was already returning to his familiar beta form, trying to calm down. Derek had underestimated just how well Scott had physically adjusted to being a werewolf. Just because he had been reluctant, didn't mean he was a failure.
Clutching his broken arm and realigning it so it could begin to heal, Derek explained through gritted teeth. "See? I tried to hurt you, and your instincts won't allow it. I don't even know if I could take it, even if I wanted to."
Frustrated by Scott's lack of reaction, Derek tried getting through to him once more. "You don't want to die! You just want something you don't think you can have, Scott. But you can! Don't you get it yet? You can live your life and learn to live with the wolf. You don't have to be a killer, not like Peter was. You have choices you can make with this and they can be good ones."
Scott remained silent, staring off at something in the woods, beyond Derek. He was shivering slightly now, with the cool autumn night having settled around them. Turning to try to see what held Scott's gaze, Derek saw there was a rabbit, yards away, moving silently through the underbrush. Derek turned his attention back to Scott. "Do you remember anything after leaving Beacon Hills?" he asked.
Scott gave a slight nod, still staring off into the distance. "I think...there was a deer?" He licked his lips, the taste left there confirming it. Bringing his hand to his face, Scott sniffed. "I think, I killed the deer?" Sounding confused, he looked to Derek for clarification. When Derek nodded, gross realization washed over Scott. "I think I ate a deer..." he concluded before running towards a bush and vomiting up the contents of his stomach.
Scott continued to dry heave while Derek grabbed Jackson's gym bag with his good arm. "Here," he said as he tossed the bag to Scott. Derek he shook his now healed arm to loosen it up and pulled out his cell phone to quickly send a text to Stiles. He relayed that Scott was found and lucid. Almost immediately, the phone buzzed with a response.
We fucked up! His mom's freaking out and my dad wants answers! What do I do?
"Who is it?"
Derek looked up and found Scott less than a foot away, staring at the phone. It was a little disconcerting to Derek that Scott could move so quickly without his noticing. "It's Stiles. I told him you're ok." Derek noticed Scott was still naked and dirty and he scowled. "Put some clothes on already!" he gestured to the gym bag, left behind them.
Scott wrinkled his nose. "They smell awful," Scott said distastefully. "Like Jackson."
Frustrated, Derek sighed. "Well, its all you've got unless you want to shift and start running home. Your mom's worried and the sheriff wants answers, according to Stiles. What do you want to tell them?"
Scott moved to the bag and grabbed a pair of sweat pants, cringing at the scent that seeped out from its fibers. He began putting them on. "I don't want to go home." Scott caught Derek rolling his eyes. "Yet," he added, not caring if Derek was pissed or not. Scott grabbed a Beacon Hills High hoodie and t-shirt and began walking towards what sounded like a stream nearby. His instincts right, Scott bent down to scoop water into hands for a drink. Swishing the water around in his mouth, he tried to spit out the acidic taste of bile on his tongue. He cleaned himself up as best he could before putting on the shirt and hoodie. 'Ugh, maybe Jackson's mom makes him keep a can of Febreeze in his bag.' He stopped for a moment, catching his reflection in a small pool off to the side of the stream. If he were human, there would be no way he could make out anything with such little light tonight. However, with preternatural sight, he saw himself quite clearly. Scott thought of Peter Hale and watched the eyes of his reflection glow red, mirroring the anger his sire built up in him. He thought back to his first full moon, watching himself transform for the first time in his steamy bathroom mirror. Recalling that memory, he felt himself change. He watched as his beta werewolf features came into being across his face, the only exception that his eyes remained a blood red. When the gym clothes he was wearing began to feel tight, he panicked and put a halt on whatever changes were happening to his body. Scott was relieved seeing that he could stop the full transformation from occurring and stay the way he was used to looking. He didn't want to see himself like that - a true monster. Besides, he didn't want to rip the clothes he had borrowed from Jackson. As disgusting as they smelled, he was cold and grateful he did not have to spend the night covered in fur.
Back to the clearing where he and Derek had confronted each other, he rummaged around in the bag, and to his surprise, found a pair of clean socks. He watched Derek as he was texting, presumably Stiles again. When he finished, Derek looked up at Scott. "Well, if you don't want to go home, there's a small cave over that way. You should sleep. An alpha transformation takes a lot of you. Not that I would know." Derek started to walk off, expecting Scott to follow.
"Fine," Scott answered, silently admitting to himself he was tired. Scott began following Derek through the trees. He felt empty. He didn't want to deal with the looks, the questions, the talking that would encompass returning home right now. Thinking back to earlier in the night, he shook his head in disbelief at how in the matter of a few hours, the night had gone so wrong. Scott thought back to that fleeting moment of euphoria he had, thinking he had received his cure. And then the crushing blow of reality, his cursed life becoming one more step closer to being a permanent fixture in his existence.
I am awake, but I don't open my eyes. I hear Derek, his breath going in and out, in even spurts, so I know he is still asleep. It isn't until a small patch of sunlight crawls over my eyelids that I move, turning away from the source and allow my eyes to adjust to the darkness of the cave we are in. I sit up, rubbing sleep from my eyes, remembering that last night I became the new alpha werewolf of my pack.
It's so stupid. A pack of two werewolves? Is that even considered a pack?
I move as quietly as I can to where Derek is. I like that its so easy for me to move without making a sound. Both of our cell phones are next to him on the cave floor. I take my own and turn it on. It's 4:30 in the afternoon on Saturday, the day after the semi-formal. There's three text messages and one voicemail. Miraculously, the phone battery is still half full. Since I don't want to wake Derek, much less talk to him, I walk outside of the cave. Each text is from Stiles, asking if I'm all right or if I'm coming home. The voicemail is from my mother. I tap in the PIN to access the message and I listen as my mother asks me to come home. She sounds worried and sad. I hate that I make her feel that way. Disconnecting from the voice mailbox, I shut my phone off. I sit down at the edge of the cave, letting the setting sun try to warm me, and think about what I should do.
I think of the things that I want. I want to go home. I want a shower since I can't stand smelling like old Jackson sweat anymore. I'm hungry and want my mom to make macaroni and cheese for me the way she used to. I want my best friend so we can watch 'Star Wars' on his dad's flat screen TV. I want to play lacrosse.
I really wanted Allison. I turn my phone on again and scroll through the numerous pictures I have of her: being cute, being serious, smiling, frowning, sticking her tongue out at me. But she's gone now. My chest feels empty inside and my eyes begin to feel hot as I exit out of the photo gallery. I stare at Stiles' text message to me, wanting me to come back home.
I can't keep this secret anymore. It's too big, its too much to explain and to try to live a normal life. Stiles knows, Jackson knows, but how many others can know? I would have to protect them if they are willing to protect me from the Hunters and keep my secret. Can I protect them? Am I strong enough? Am I good enough? Stiles almost died for me and I know I would do the same for him. I almost died protecting Jackson even. And my mother... I don't want to scare her. What if she can't even look at me?
I decided. I take my phone and begin to type a response back to Stiles.
Hey.
Its all I can come up with. Not even a minute goes by and his return text lights up my phone. He asks where I am and if I'm ok.
Somewhere in the woods I guess. I'm ok. I think.
Even quicker, my phone gets a new response. He tells me our parents are worried about me. I type back my decision.
Tell them everything.
I imagine that his jaw dropped from shock since a good two and half minutes go by until I hear from him. He wants to know if I'm sure.
I'm sure. Get J there to back you up. Be home tonite.
The bars of my battery life are slowly getting smaller so I shut the phone off. Just in time, I can hear Derek walk up behind me. Now, its dusk. I can see the moon hang low in the sky, fighting for attention from the sun.
I decide to apologize. Sorry about your arm, I say. Derek grunts in acceptance. That's about as much as I can hope, for now.
What are you doing, he asks. I tell him I'm going home and Stiles is telling my mom about everything. I tell him I decided that to protect the ones that matter most, they have to know the truth. I don't know what else to say. Neither does Derek, I guess, since he remains silent for a moment too. Until...
Spoken like a pack leader, he says. I roll my eyes at him. I'm not Cesar Fucking Millan. I'm not a pack leader, I tell him. I'm a junior in high school who has a lab report due Monday for a class I'm failing. I'm co-captain of a lacrosse team that made the state championship. I'm a vet's assistant that didn't show up for work this morning.
Derek laughed at the last part. I think your boss will find your excuse forgivable, he says.
I suppose so. I need to talk to Dr. Deaton. I make a mental note to do that next week.
I stand up and take off the hoodie and tee shirt. Derek has Jackson's gym bag and I stuff the clothing back in, followed by the sweat pants and socks. I give Derek my phone. I catch our old scents around us. I zero in on them and know which direction is home. Derek secures the bag once more around his torso and shoulder, not wanting to leave any evidence that someone named Jackson Whittemore spent the night in that cave. He taps his phone, puts it away and then he looks to me.
Ready? he asks. I nod. I take in a breath and let it out. Walking away, I take in another breath and as I let it out, I let the wolf out. It feels...easier, natural almost. Then I run, knowing Derek is following close behind. I know the way I came almost 24 hours ago, but I take a more direct route. I am anxious to be home. I am hungry and want to eat. I want to see my family.
My pack.
Pack, pack, pack. Its all I want right now. It keeps me moving forward, I don't know for how long. Its now dark and I begin to slow down. Up ahead is Derek's home, with police working on the crime scene. The Sheriff is not there though. I turn and head towards my home, stealthily moving so I don't attract attention. I move through the woods. I stop. Derek stops. I smell Hunters, even though they are not here now, they were here. I smell their boots, their arrows. I want to keep moving, so we move.
I see my home through the trees. I avoid the long drive way and instead move about the perimeter, studying it. Blue Jeep, silver Porche, Sheriff's car, mom's car. They are all here. I am relieved. Lights are on inside. I can hear them talk. I hear the TV. I smell pizza from the kitchen and my mouth begins to water almost involuntarily. I rise up and feel myself shift back to what I know, what has grown to be familiar, a security blanket, like I had when I was four. I rest a clawed hand on a tree as I collect my breath.
I want to rush inside, but I don't. I hesitate. I can't go in like this. I see Derek, as he begins to walk to the side of the house. He looks back at me, as if to assure me its ok. We stick to shadows so we are not noticed by the eyes that keep scanning the yard.
Derek turns to me. What do you want to do? he asks. I think. I look up and see the window to my room. I'm going to take a shower, I say to him. Go in and tell them I'm up there and I'll come down.
When will that be? he asks. I pause and think. When I'm ready, I guess. I pretend that I don't see him roll his eyes at me. Instead, I hold my hand out and I mouth the word, phone. He returns it to me.
I go to climb up the side of the house and deftly climb onto the roof of the porch. I slide open the window to my room, noting that its just as I left it. I climb inside without a sound. I walk across the room, tossing my phone onto the unmade bed, and enter my bathroom. I hear Derek ring the doorbell and the rush of people to greet him. My mother asks him why I'm not there. I turn on the shower and hear Derek explain I am upstairs and to leave me alone. I know they can hear the water rushing through the old pipes of the house, so they believe him. I watch my hands and my claws recede and I feel myself return to normal. No, not normal. Human. Which part of me is the normal part now? I don't even know. Or maybe I'm afraid that I won't like my answer.
I stay under the hot stream of water, watching blood and dirt go down the drain. It feels good. Its the first time I have felt good in what seems like forever to me. Derek and Stiles are trying to explain everything that had happened. I know that I will have to explain it too, but later. Just as I hear my mother mention the hot water heater, I turn off the shower. I get out and towel myself off. I clean under my finger and toe nails and trim them. I brush my teeth. I comb my hair. I do these things without thinking, rituals I've had in place since I was little. Rituals can make you forget about what's bothering you sometimes.
I step out and find what I am looking for. Flannel PJ pants, a Foo Fighters tee shirt, and my own Beacon Hills High hoodie, none of which smelled like anyone other than me. I go to the door to my room and crack it open. Through the dark hallway, I see light creeping up the stairs from the lower level. They are all still there, talking, waiting. I decide I'm ready, at least for one person.
Hey Derek, I say in a normal voice, knowing he's the only one in the house that could possibly hear it over everything. Can you send my mom up? I feel stupid, like I'm issuing orders to my parole officer. But I know he'll do it. I turn, grabbing my phone, and I sit on my bed, plugging my phone into the charger on my nightstand.
I hear him stop talking to the Sheriff. He tells my mom that I want to see her. I hear her as she bounds up the stairs. Suddenly, I want to change my mind and not see anyone, but its too late. I need a distraction so I turn on my phone as I hear her at the door. I'm nervous. So is she. Maybe that's a good sign?
My door opens and she pokes her head in. She smiles, or tries to. I tell her to come in if she wants, so she does. She hesitates for a minute and I start to think coming home was a bad idea. I start flipping through pictures on my phone so I don't have to think about what she might say next. I land on pictures of Allison. That was a bad idea. I can't keep doing this to myself. Stiles has been right all along. I have to get over it.
Allison sticking her tongue out at me. Delete.
Allison frowning. Delete.
Bowling. Delete.
In her bedroom. Delete.
I feel my mother on the bed next to me as she sits down. She was so worried, she says. Thinking I was dead, or kidnapped, or worse. Stiles told us everything, she says. Her hand comes across my shoulders. She kisses the side of my forehead. I'm flooded with relief as I realize she won't kick me out. She'll stay with me.
I'm sorry is all I can manage right now, so I say it over and over again. The lump in my throat refuses to go away. She starts to shush me and tells me everything will be all right. I lean into her, my head resting on her shoulder, like it used to be. She asks if I'm hungry and when I say yes, she tells me about the pizza that I can smell. I can make you a sandwich, or pancakes, or leftover lasagna, she says. There's even ice cream in the freezer, you can have anything you want.
That's not true. I sit up. I shake my head. All I wanted was her, I say. Looking at the phone, I see Allison smiling at me. I can't have her. Ever. My mom looks sad for me and I know Stiles told her about the Argents, about how they would try to kill me if they ever found out.
Are you sure you want to delete this picture? the phone asks me.
Yes, I'm sure.