A/N: Well, this update took an embarrassingly long time. Sorry for that. The plot is already planned out, it's just the typing part that slows me down. I should have more time to focus on the story now, though. Big thanks to every one who Reviewed or Favorited during my break! I *love* hearing from you all.
Enjoy!
...-^o^-...
Six hours after departing from Beacon Hills the small plane landed and rolled haltingly to a stop on the dark asphalt of a small airport surrounded by sunny green woods in all directions. Before the airport crew were even half-way to the plane with the debarkation ladderwell, the plane's airtight door burst open.
Five partially wolfed-out werewolves tumbled the fifteen feet onto the tarmac, landing in a groaning pile below. Whimpering pathetically they rolled and staggered in separate directions on shaking legs, hands and knees.
Above them, at the door, Allison appeared, eyes wide with sympathy as she stared down at the group.
Derek was the first to successfully stand upright, having experienced the 'joys' of flight several times before. There was a lot to be said about the convenience and speed of air travel, but it was not an ideal mode of transportation for ANY land bound supernatural creatures- especially those with enhanced senses. If getting to Stiles quickly had not been at the top of Derek's priorities, he would have never taken up Peter's offer to fly them all to the High-Den.
Forcing his body to stop shaking weakly, Derek glowered towards the small terminal where a large group had appeared from inside, slowly approaching the Beacon Hills pack. Leading the crowd at the front was Peter, smiling cheerfully.
Derek was fifty feet down the small strip and on him in less than five seconds.
"Where. Is. Stiles-!?" Derek demanded, clutching his uncle's shirt in a tight fist. His eyes flashed brightly as his wolf snapped just behind his consciousness.
Peter's smile didn't falter. "Come now, Derek, don't be rude. Say hello to the pack- it's been too long since we had a family reunion!"
Derek growled lowly, but allowed his eyes to sweep the faces of the people behind Peter.
Peter wasn't kidding- the head of EVERY Hale pack branch was shuffling uncomfortably nearby, eyes either trained to the ground or staring with interest towards the recovering wolves by the plane. Fifteen leaders total- all alphas- were waiting for some sort of acknowledgement from the Hale Heir.
Derek reluctantly released Peter's shirt, stepping back stiffly.
He was out of line. Close to losing his temper and control of his wolf already. It was a godsend that only Hale pack members were present. Such a lack of bearing from an alpha was an embarrassment to any pack.
Of course, that was probably what Peter had anticipated when he planned all this. Not even he would want the pack to look weak to outsiders…
Derek felt the familiar flush of embarrassment that he always seemed to have around the other Hale Pack leaders. His own…inadequacies…thrown in his face with every mis-step. The rigid formalities and customs of werewolf culture were almost lost in all the time he had spent away.
Derek spoke carefully through clenched teeth as he formally addressed the pack leaders. "Good evening and…well met," his voice stumbled over the familiar greeting, his wolf snapping furiously, eager to find Stiles and ensure that he was safe. Formalities were a human-based custom. Wolves got on fine with a quick sniff of the ass and wag of the tail. Derek took a breath and continued, "Please allow me to introduce our newest Hale pack members, my betas-"
Derek stopped abruptly, realizing that all the alphas' eyes were already focused behind him as he turned to gesture to his pack. He paused, up-raised arm dropping as he took in the sight across the tarmac.
On the dark grey of the asphalt, his pack was scattered, still pathetically attempting to recover from the flight.
Boyd's huge frame was seated cross-legged, rocking forward and back. His eyes were squeezed shut and mouth set in a tight grimace.
Practically hanging from his side by her extended claws, Erica was shivering through ragged breaths. Her face was buried his arm so that only her long blonde curls were visible.
In a heap a few feet away, Isaac was-
Yeah…Isaac was crying. He was actually. Fucking. Crying.
Allison was crouched worriedly beside him, rubbing his back soothingly and muttering soft words. Her worried eyes were darting between him and Scott, who was- thank God- beginning to rise steadily to his feet a few yards away.
Derek proudly watched as Scott successfully stood, straightening his back with determination. At least ONE member of his back was making a good first impres-
With only a sudden intake of breath as warning, Scott vomitted.
"Oooh-! That one's mine!" Peter stated gleefully to the rest of the pack. Louder, he called out, "That a boy, Scott! Get it all out of your system-!"
Even Derek's wolf was silent from mortification as Scott dropped back to his knees, then proceeded to curl into a ball.
"They…they seem-" started an elderly alpha Derek recognized vaguely as his Uncle Erin (Hale-Harris, actually a distant cousin, like many of the rest). "I-I'm sure they're a valuable addition to our pack, Derek." The others were quick to nod their agreement, eyes never leaving the scattered betas' forms. Derek cringed at their kindness.
"Well, damn-!" A loud voice bellowed from the back. The mountainous form of Uncle Terry (of the Hale-Prior branch) made his way forward, the others parting quickly to clear his path. Derek felt a sudden rush of relief at the sound of the familiar voice and sight of his uncle's toothy grin. Considered the light-hearted 'rebel' of the Hale pack, Uncle Terry had always been one of the few pack members that Derek felt comfortable around. The bear of of a werewolf (six foot eleven inches of pure muscle) engulfed Derek into a hug that nearly lifted him from the ground as he continued in a jovial voice, "Haha! I remember my first flight-! Tried to tear the door off the hinges three minutes after take-off! Your Auntie laid me out cold for three hours-! I woke up with the cold shakes in a puddle of my own piss-"
"For God's sake, Terry-!" Another werewolf, one Derek only vaguely recognized moved forward, trying to pry the men apart. "You're gonna scare him off again!" The man grunted from the effort of shoving at the bulky man uselessly.
"Aw, go on with all that!" Terry returned with a snort, "Derek's not running anywhere 'cept after his cute little mate- ain't that right son?!" He put Derek down at last, beaming at him.
Derek felt the eyes of the other alphas, and Peter, on him as everyone watched him expectantly. He felt his heart rate increase and knew they all could hear it. He didn't have to look to know the betas behind him were listening intently to the exchange, despite their rolling stomachs. His initial anger had deterred them from asking him too many questions before they left Beacon Hills, and the long flight had successfully extended his time to come up with a solid defense. Now, Terry had practically set Derek up to either confirm or deny everyone's suspicions.
Forcing his heart to steady, Derek carefully hedged around the truth, putting as much annoyance into his voice as he could. "Stiles is NOT my mate."
True enough. Derek had made sure that none of the usual mating rituals had been happened. His wolf had almost managed a few on it's own during some of the more intense full-moon-blackouts, including dragging the gift of a dead deer onto Stiles' front porch, but Derek had always been able to catch the little slip-ups in time.
So, it wasn't a lie.
Technically.
There were rules for mates. Procedures that he had specifically NOT followed.
His heart didn't skip at the statement…
…but, his wolf growled lowly at the words, nonetheless.
Around him, the rest of the alphas watched him with sharp eyes. He kept his face stoic, knowing that his denial was the only thing that would save Stiles from participating in the Hunt in just a few hours. He had to make it real. Had to convince them all that this was a mistake.
"Hmm. Well," Peter began, sending Derek a coy grin, "If that's the case, then I appear to have made an embarrassing mistake. My bad."
Every person present turned to stare incredulously at Peter.
He shrugged, blinking innocently.
Derek couldn't contain his frustration. "So? Where is he-?! Bring Stiles here so we can go back to California!"
He knew the second the words left his mouth that something was wrong. The alphas- as one- released a collective breath, turning their eyes to the ground to study the asphalt.
Derek turned, eyes scanning the group, panic growing by the second. His wolf huffed restlessly.
"Yes…about that…" Peter began, a small smile turning up the corner of his mouth. "Funny story. As you've already noticed, Stiles made quite an, uh, 'impression' with Alpha Mischa of the Durst Pa-"
The mere mention of Mischa's name brought back all the fury of having found his and Stile's intermingled scents earlier that morning. Derek's wolf took the reins, double-fisting Peter's shirt, fangs inches from his uncle's throat before anyone could even move. His voice was a low growl, "Where. Is. STILES?"
Peter continued smiling, but his body gave a tell-tale tremble under Derek's grip. His beta wolf knew better than to antagonize an alpha. Regardless, his reply was teasing, "Really, Derek, why so upset? Even someone like Stiles deserves a chance at finding that special werewo-EARAGH!" His voice was briefly cut-off by Derek's clawed-hand suddenly grasping his throat hard enough to crush vocal chords.
"Derek-!" Someone was tugging at his arms, but all Derek could see was red. His wolf was at the forefront, driving Derek's every movement. He could feel his claws extending; the buzz under his skin as cells fought to rearrange themselves into a shape more inclined to snap bones with it's teeth. Their was a heady wave of satisfaction as Peter's watery eyes bulged with genuine fear.
"DEREK-!"
A huge pair of arms enclosed around him, yanking him back at last and holding his hands at his side. Derek fought to free himself, teeth snapping furiously with the urge to sink into his Uncle's pale skin.
His heart was thundering in his ears as Peter was pulled by several pack leaders to a safe distance away. He watched through the haze as his uncle- ever quick to recover his bearing- shot Derek a subtle grin and wink that no one else caught.
Peter was going to die. Soon.
As the bloodlust slowly cleared from his mind, Derek realized that Terry was speaking to him. In fact, it was Terry who was single-handedly holding Derek in vise-like hug from behind, preventing him from doing anything but kicking his legs uselessly. Derek briefly wondered when that had happened, but was distracted by hearing Stiles' name.
"…that Stiles is real pistol, and that's for sure! Liked him as soon as I saw him! Shot outta that van like a wine cork- course he didn't get too far, but- hey! Kid's got spirit, I'll sure give'm that! Can see why you like him so much!"
Derek was finally able to start processing the rambling conversation enough to manage a 'Huh-?'
"Stiles, son! Seems like a great kid! Bet he's tons of fun to have in the pack, that one!" Derek couldn't see Terry's face, but he didn't need to see him to know he was smiling brightly. The other alphas were nodding in polite agreement, faces strained as they eyed Derek warily.
One alpha (another vaguely familiar face- fuck, he sucked at this) was speaking to Derek, face grim and determined, "If you don't want Stiles to join Mischa's pack, then we'll certainly help out. You can count on us to run with you at the Hunt tonight-" All the alphas were listening now, nodding seriously as the man continued speaking, "All this 'mate' confusion aside," the man shot Peter a scowl, "That boy was Hale pack first, and we'll put up a good fight make sure he stays that way come morning." There was a growled chorus of agreement from the rest of the pack.
Derek was abruptly released by Terry, sucking in air as his sore muscles relaxed. His wolf had calmed down enough to retreat back into his subconscious. A heavy-handed slap on his back almost had Derek pitching forward onto the pavement.
Terry's voice added robustly, "Yep! I'm sure Stiles'll be one of the first ones across the Hale Border tonight! The Nemeton'll make sure he gets safely back to his true pack!"
The sense of unease that had been growing in Derek as each of the alphas had spoken grew into full-fledged dread. Weakly, Derek repeated the question a final time.
"Where is Stiles…?"
The faces of the group dropped guiltily again, mouths drawing tight as no one spoke.
It was Peter's cheerful voice that finally cut through the silence.
"Oh, we sent him to the Nemeton right before we came here. He's…" Peter checked his watch as he spoke, "probably already arrived by now. Whoops." He shrugged with an unapologetic grin.
Derek lunged for his uncle's throat-again.
-^o^-
"This is the weirdest shit I have EVER seen." Erica muttered, shaking her blonde head before adding, "And I mean- that's really saying something!"
The other teens nodded mutely as they all stared wide-eyed out the window of the quaint little coffee shop they were seated in.
Shortly after they arrived at the small airport, the group had been quickly shuffled into multiple vans by the strangers who had accompanied Peter.
Alphas.
They were ALL alphas.
Six females and nine males.
And the REAL confusing part-?
They ALL smelled like pack.
Not necessarily the same scent that the betas themselves wore, but definitely similar at its core. It was unmistakeable. And beyond confusing to the beta's inner wolves.
'Which means it fit in perfectly with their current situation', Scott thought as he tried to make sense of everything.
Everything had moved fast since the call to Peter that morning. Derek had been useless. Not that he was sociable at the best of times, but as soon as Peter had hung up, it was as if Derek's wolf had taken over. It was all the small group of betas could do to get grunts from the furious alpha, let alone actual answers and explanations. They had jumped into their vehicles in a rush to follow behind Derek's camaro as he made a straight shot to the airport, eyes glowing a steady red.
Which was bad. So freakin' bad.
Scott had never seen Derek so out of control- and in public! If the cops had caught their little parade of cars speeding to the airport, who knows what could've happened?
Scott seriously doubted Derek would have stopped for the police. Or maybe, just long enough to shred their throats…
Scott had nearly lost control of his own wolf in the passenger seat of Allison's car, nerves on edge from the moment he had caught Stiles fading scent of fear at the school, and found their two phones lying on the ground nearby.
Then of course, they had flown. Which was just a nightmare for everyone except Allison, who had managed a brief nap after it was clear no one was capable of holding a conversation while they were airborne.
Now, their group was seated in an adorable little coffee shop on the corner of a picturesque town square watching as people passed by the windows.
Scott would have been calmed by the normalcy of the scene, if not for the fact that the entire town was engulfed in the overpowering scent of not only werewolves, but tons of other unplaceable smells, all mingling together.
"So…you're sure? I mean," Allison's voice was pitched low, which probably did nothing to prevent them from being overheard by the other patrons. "Maybe there's something, like magic, messing with your senses. They can't ALL be werewolves…right?"
"No," Isaac mumbled, blue eyes huge and incredulous, "I'm pretty sure that one is a druid or witch or…something."
They all looked, just in time to see a middle aged woman standing beside a minivan as a flock of about fifteen black crows flapped their wings wildly, dropping several shopping bags into the woman's open hatchback SUV. As soon as the goods were deposited, the woman flicked her wrist and the flock dispersed into the bright blue afternoon sky.
The group turned slowly back to their coffees, all taking a thoughtful swig of their drinks as one.
"Peter said…" Erica began, "He said something like 'werewolf capitol', right?" Her eyes were scrunched in concentration. "Is that a thing? Like, are we really in some sort of supernatural city?"
Down the street, there was a peel of tires. The group's eyes lifted again to see an irate driver blow his car horn at a jaywalking pedestrian. The pedestrian wolfed out partially, eyes blazing blue and wide jaws dropping to shape an annoyed howl that rattled the windows. The busy crowd outside barley spared a glance in the direction of the disruption.
The group returned their attention to their coffees. They took another large drink, as one.
"I've never seen Derek that pissed before," Issac finally mumbled.
They all nodded, frowning with concern. Scott let his eyes drift back to the large building down the street. Derek, Peter and the alphas had disappeared inside as soon as the vans had dropped them all off. Scott and the others had made a move to follow them in, but one of the alphas had stopped them at the top of the stairs. Scott had growled lowly at the woman (which had felt…weird since she smelled like pack and safety), but then Derek's voice had called from inside, "Stay out there. I'll be out soon." It had been enough to get Scott to back down from the grinning female wolf. She had chuckled 'cutie' and turned to follow the other weres inside.
Scott had scowled after her, ears burning red.
He was still fuming, even now, almost thirty minutes later as they sat at the small table overlooking the street.
"Why Stiles?" Allison asked thoughtfully, interrupting his thoughts. "I mean, if Peter's really behind this, then why would he take Stiles? Doesn't it seem strange that he didn't use one of you guys instead?"
She searched the faces of the others. Boyd and Erica shrugged, but Issac's brow furrowed. "He said at the airport that he had Stiles taken because he thought Derek, like…I don't know, had a crush…on…him…?" Isaac barely managed to get the words out, they sounded so absurd. Erica was snickering uncontrollably beside him. The others grimaced at the idea.
Except Boyd.
And it was Boyd who finally spoke softly in the silence following Isaac's words. "Derek hides his scent whenever Stiles is around.…"
There was more silence. Because…well, yeah. He did.
"Yeah, but that- that doesn't mean…" Erica began, mouth turned to a pout as her eyes darted from face to face, as if expecting someone to help her finish the statement. "It doesn't mean he's like, hiding," she cringed, "horny scents or anything! Maybe he's just covering the smell of rage and annoyance. That's what I always figured."
"Because that's what it was!" Scott suddenly snapped, "Come on- it's Derek and Stiles! I seriously have had to referee those two from verbally AND physically attacking each other for the last four years! No way Derek …ugh-!" He stopped, frustrated.
"And I don't think Stiles is into Derek all that much, either." Erica added, tapping her chin thoughtfully with a manicured nail. "I mean, the dude's the easiest read ever- even if you couldn't sniff out his emotions or hear his heartbeat. Yeah, he's horny around around Derek, but that's pretty much the same level of horniness he has 24/7. Guy's like a sexually frustrated machine. The only time he actually gets super-turned on is around hot chicks like Lydia…and me, of course." She grinned and shrugged.
"Why are we still having this conversation?" Scott groaned. "Stiles is NOT into Derek and Derek is NOT into Stiles. Peter was just being his normal dick-self and causing problems. It's what he does! He wanted Derek to come here for this-this hunt thing, so he told those other werewolves a lie to get them to take Stiles."
"But how did Peter know Derek would actually show?" Allison rationalized. "I mean, yeah, Derek and Stiles are always butting heads, so how come Peter took the risk of kidnapping Stiles instead of one of you betas? Am I the only one actually surprised that Derek actually came here to get Stiles back?"
The group was silent, thinking.
"Maybe he was playing on Derek's pride or something? Like, 'you have a helpless human that you can't even protect in your own territory'…?" Scott's growl had Isaac stuttering nervously, but he pressed on, "Just, seriously, think about it. If any one of us had been taken, we'd at least know that that person wasn't completely defenseless against other werewolves. But, Stiles? He's human, and- uh, no offense, Scott- but he's our weakest pack member."
Erica snickered, "Stile's ISN'T a pack member-"
Scott was suddenly in her personal space, a low snarl rumbling from his throat. "Stiles IS a part of our pack!"
Erica flinched visibly under Scott's sudden anger, shifting discreetly closer to Boyd, who spoke gently despite his intimidating frame. "What Erica means is, yeah, WE consider Stiles pack, but he's still a human. And, since he's connected to our pack and to Derek, that makes him the most vulnerable target."
Scott settled stiffly back into his seat by Allison. She reached over to pat his arm. "None of that matters now. Stiles in trouble and we need to be figuring out how to help rescue him from this hunt thing they mentioned." They all glanced towards the huge gray building again.
"Did you come up with an excuse to give his dad?" Isaac asked to change the subject, turning to Scott.
"Yeah," Scott bit out, holding out Stiles' phone alongside his own. It had been in a small pile in the grass by the school, along with his keys and Scott's phone. "I sent the Sheriff a text from Stiles' phone saying we were all taking a surprise trip to look into a local college. He was upset cuz it's a school day, but I think he bought it. My mom is in on it, too, in case he check's with her. Not that she's thrilled about us traveling half-way across the country with no notice..."
Scott's hand tightened around Stiles' cell phone, and he suddenly burst out, "I should have noticed when they took my phone! If they hadn't used my cellphone to trick Stiles, then-!"
"Don't," Allison soothed, "They would've just found another way. It's not your fault, Scott."
Scott leaned against her with a soft whine, breathing in the smell of her hair. Even hearing her say it didn't make him feel any less awful about everything. It WAS his fault that his best friend had been taken. He had read the texts. He knew that Stiles had gone to the school thinking he was helping Scott.
"It doesn't matter HOW they managed to get Stiles. What we should be worried about is how to get the idiot BACK before he get's himself killed or something." Erica stated, rolling her eyes.
"Well," Isaac began, face scrunched up in thought. "Derek's freaking out pretty bad, but did you notice no one else is acting like it's the end of the world? I mean, how do we even know Stiles is actually in any danger?"
"Uh, because they called it a 'hunt', Isaac," Scott supplied, scowling more because of his own self-loathing than Isaac's words, "And it involves werewolves, who, we all know from experience don't have the very best control over their instincts, especially at this time of the month."
Isaac winced, nodding in concession. The group didn't need to check the moon's phase to know it was close to full. In just less than an hour the sun would dip and set, and the moon's pull would be inescapable.
And Stiles was out there, somewhere, at the… nematode… or whatever Peter had called it. Scott frowned, feeling helpless.
Allison's hand slipped around his where they were clenched in his lap. "Stiles will be okay. He's tough and smart.
"Yeah," Erica chimed in, "It's not like he's a newbie with supernatural shit. He's probably tied up somewhere safe, annoying the fuck out of his captors with questions about werewolf politics and all that crap. Honestly- they're probably suffering way more than he is right now."
Scott felt a small grin tug at his mouth, "Yeah, he's never been good at staying quiet for long…"
Isaac spoke up next. "What do you think a nemeton-"
A furious howl ripped through the air, sending the hairs on everyone's neck standing up straight.
It was Derek.
The group was barreling out of the coffee shop in moments, racing for the large municipal building down the street that Derek, Peter and the others had disappeared into.
People were flooding out of the ornate double-doors at the front as loud crashes and the obvious signs of a fight could be heard inside. Derek's muffled grunts and growls were distinguishable in the chaos.
Just as the betas and Allison managed to shove through the alarmed bodies and up the short stairs, several of the alphas from the airport appeared, grabbing onto their struggling bodies tightly and preventing them from rushing inside to join the fight.
"Whoa-whoa! Easy now, pups!" Shouted a huge man with a deep southern accent. He was grinning cheerfully as he lifted Isaac full-bodily off the ground. Isaac and the other betas had wolfed out, despite the many onlookers who were queuing around the building to see what the noise was about.
Another alpha was hurrying out of the building a few feet away, his tired eyes taking in the thrashing betas as they bit and clawed to break free of their captors. Even Allison was making and effort to jab her heel into any soft spot she could reach on the man who was attempting to juggle her from right to left as he danced his feet away from her sharp shoes.
"Well…" The gray haired man mumbled, "This is all going about as well as could be expected." The sound of shattering glass- lots of shattering glass, like, maybe a whole floor to ceiling window Scott thought- came from behind him. The man just shook his head, turning his attention to the Beacon Hills group. "Please, settle yourselves, pups. Alpha Derek is just…" he paused as a loud roar of pain ripped through the air from further down the hall, "He's…working through some frustration. Nothing to be concerned about." The older man finished lamely.
A booming voice echoed from inside, "That's quite enough! Mischa-! Derek-!"
The noises stopped abruptly.
The betas finally began to calm, ears turned towards the interior of the building, searching for some sign that Derek was safe. All they could make out was the dull hum of unintelligible voices, despite their werewolf hearing. Scott felt his captor carefully ease his grip around him. By this time, almost everyone who had been around the square was clustered close to the entrance in a huge crowd, filling the silence with hushed whispers.
Not a minute later, a man appeared at the doors, stomping out, face drawn. He had the unmistakeable scratches from claws being raked down his flushed face and his clothing was crumpled and shredded in places.
He didn't make eye contact as he passed by the other weres, who stepped out of his way with small bows.
His eyes glanced briefly over the Beacon Hills group before returning to look straight ahead and pass by them. Several people detached from the crowd, drawing up to join and flank the young man.
It took only a second for the stranger's scent to waft towards Scott.
It was the same scent that had been mingled with Stiles' at the school.
Scott's wolf reacted instantly, crossing the few yards that separated them and lunging at the man. The other betas moved to attack, as well, shrugging off the alphas around them.
But, within a split second, before Scott and the others could get close enough to touch the alpha wolf, the other alphas were suddenly on them again.
This time, however, their was no underlying humor or gentleness in their movements. Several gasps and hisses were heard from the crowd, and the people- werewolves- who were at the new alpha wolf's side spun around, eyes flashing with fury.
"Enough!" Shouted the older man as he moved surprisingly fast from his spot at the top of the stairs. The other wolves holding the Beacon Hills group were half-dragging, half-carrying the young betas away from the now growling wolves standing beside Stiles' attacker.
Scott found his voice, shouting through the arms of two alphas, "You-! What have you done with Stiles?! Where did you take my friend, you bastard-?!"
It was as if time stopped.
Even Scott flinched at the suddenly thick air of danger that bled into the square. Throughout the audience, every face appeared to be a mask of wide-eyed terror and gaping jaws. They looked from Scott, who was panting from exertion and now growing panic, to the lead alpha, who turned stiffly around to drop the full weight of his red-eyed disapproval on the beta.
"A-Alpha Mischa," the older man that smelled of Hale pack spoke tightly, voice respectful as he positioned himself between the two, "I beg your forgiveness. These pups are…er, they have not been around other werewolves-"
"I am aware of their…lack of training," The younger man's voice was a low rasp, his eyes boring into Scott's. He seemed to think hard, brow furrowing for several seconds as he turned his gaze towards the other betas, taking in their aggressive stances. Even their eyes held a level of defiance, despite the fact that everyone within thirty feet had no doubt caught the heavy scent of fear that rolled off of the small group.
The alpha, 'Mischa', undoubtedly noticed it, his nose crinkling once as he seemed to take it in. After another moment, he made a small gesture and the handful of weres around him immediately relaxed. It seemed like the entire crowd sighed in relief at the movement. Scott had the sudden impression that he had very narrowly avoided a near-death experience.
The Alpha spoke again, this time directly to Scott. "You're…Stiles' friend…?" Scott didn't miss the man's subtle nose twitch, sniffing, as if he were catching a hint of Stiles' scent on Scott's clothing.
Scott blinked at the question, barely managing to nod stiffly.
The intimidating alpha frowned deeper, eyes boring into Scott's as he stated, "I'll forgive your insolence this once…. Do not test my patience further." His words were clipped, but laced with something like hesitance. The man's red gaze shifted past Scott, his face drawing grim again. Scott didn't need to turn to know Derek had appeared at the entrance to building at the top of the stairs.
The man moved to turn and leave, but drew up short. He half-turned, meeting Scott's eye just quickly enough to add, "I'm sure… any friend of Stiles is worthy of my friendship as well." His eyes moved towards Derek once more, briefly. And with that final, gruff statement, he departed with quick strides, followed closely by his group.
Scott twisted his head around to gape at Derek, practically dripping the sharp notes of terror as he searched for some sign from Derek- any hint that all of this was somehow…normal werewolf interaction.
Derek didn't meet Scott's eye. He kept his burning red glare on Mischa's departing figure. There was blood trailing a thin line from the corner of Derek's mouth. More blood stained his shredded shirt.
The remaining crowd watched the group go as well, apparently stunned. Several turned with interest from Derek's haggard form and back to Mischa's.
As soon as the alpha's small group turned around the corner of the block and out of sight, Derek spun around and stepped back into the shadowed entrance of the building without a word.
The crowd surrounding abruptly burst into excited chatter.
"What THE FUCK is going on…?" Erica exclaimed, looking more wide eyed and confused than angry.
Scott could only shrug helplessly.
...-^o^-...