The bedroom door creaked open and Derek's eyes snapped open. He suppressed a growl, but uncurled himself by the corner. Melissa McCall poked her head in and tiptoed to the mass of sleeping teenagers. She gently brushed her lips across each of their foreheads, lingering a moment longer over Scott and Stiles. She adjusted her purse strap on her shoulder and turned. She jumped a foot in the air and clutched at her chest when she saw him watching from across the room. Her heart sped up for a fraction of a second before she fixed him with a stern motherly look and gestured to the hallway.
Derek stood, stretching his hands over his head and shuffling out after her. He slid the door closed behind him and focused on Ms. McCall. The woman had brown green eyes shadowed by long eyelashes. Her brunette hair hung in a damp ponytail down her back and she wore minimal makeup. She held her chin high, shoulders squared, and back erect; she stood with the confidence of a person who was facing the world but refused to show it. Melissa scrutinized him in ways reminiscent of his mother, leaving him feeling hollow but like a child again.
"I'm going to work. Scott knows I'll be working late tonight." She kept her voice at a low, soft whisper. Derek nodded and folded his arms across his chest.
"The pack and I were going to train a little today; we really shouldn't be slacking." He ducked his head under her narrowed gaze. He smelled the worry ebbing at the edge of her floral scent, but felt the tug of maternal instincts kicking in.
"Look, Derek I…I'm still unsure about everything that has been going on, what with Scott being… Anyway, I just want to know that you are watching out for them. I don't want any of the kids to get hurt." Her voice was still soft, but a rippling firm undertone did not slip his radar. Still, he found himself unable to meet the gaze of the mother.
"Don't worry Ms. McCall, they'll be fine." He was uncomfortable to be so close to Scott's mother. She exuded the same protective pheromones his mother had, and he was greatly abashed that some were even directed towards him. He spared a glance at her and felt his chest tighten.
Melissa looked so much like her son with wide, concerned, probing eyes and her bottom lip protruding out. She lay a delicate hand on his shoulder and electric currents ran through his body at the touch. The woman didn't drop her gaze, but held his fiercely. "Not just them Derek, you too." She didn't give him time to reply. She dropped her hand and walked down the stairs.
Derek listened to the sound of her driving away and quietly crept back into the room. He let the door remain open, his mind spinning. When was the last time he'd experienced a mother's concern for him? Laura had been far from a mother figure to him in the years following the fire. He hadn't felt that need to be held and comforted, protected in such a long time that it made him sick.
He remembered the sweet smell of honey blossoms that seemed to envelope his mother wherever she went; the soft curve her lips would make when she laughed or smiled; the light dancing in her blue eyes; the warmth and utter peace in her arms. He yearned for that, to run to her when he fell and bruised himself. He recalled going into her room late at night and lying beside her, his head buried in her bosom. His mother had been everything, his shield, his friend.
Derek squeezed his eyes and shook away the waves of nostalgia. He had a new family, and while he would never forget his old one he needed to remain in the present.
He looked at his sleeping betas and shook his head. The teens were no more than a tangle of limbs; he wasn't sure where one began and another ended. He'd dropped Stiles off at Scott's the night before and then ran to lock up his house. By the time he'd come back, Scott and Stiles were passed out on top of each other, shirtless. Derek knew it was how their relationship was; they'd been brothers for years and had a certain level of comfort with one another. It wasn't too long later, around midnight that the others came. Derek would never tell them, but they'd come in sniffing and whining like new born pups, eyes closed and all. They'd whined until they were all pressed firmly against one another, and after had fallen into undisturbed sleep. He smiled despite himself. It was cute.
He yawned and walked to the window. The sun was peeking shyly over the tops of the trees, the night's storm clouds long gone. A few puddles littered the ground here and there, and a mist was rolling over the pavement. They'd be meeting for a training session that morning and he wanted to take some time to prepare. It wouldn't be a bad idea to pay Allison and her father a visit either. He would need help finding out what was going on a few towns north, and Chris would probably be better at getting information than him in any case.
Derek slid the window open and gently jumped out. He fell slowly, landing on the balls of his feet. He straightened and dusted his jeans off. Scott's neighborhood was eerily quiet in the early dawn. A few people were leaving for work, their old cars sputtering to life. All around him was a symphony of gentle snores and steady hearts, a melody of quiet whispers under breaths with a harmony of unlabored breathing. It was nice to him.
He stuffed his hands in his pocket and walked slowly up the sidewalk, enjoying the way the wind whistled around him. A few people waved at him and he was shocked to find himself returning the gesture. It must be true, he thought, I'm crossing over to the dark side. He chuckled lightly and turned onto one of the side roads. There were no vehicles in sight and he took off at a leisure jog.
It felt great to be moving for once because he enjoyed the exhilaration, not because he had to. He held back his full speed, but glowed in the motion of his arms as they pumped at his sides. It brought him back to those late summer afternoons when he, Laura, his sister Kendra, and his brother Tony would race through the trees barefoot. He being the baby always managed to lose, but he enjoyed every outing. He loved to watch Kendra's raven black hair billow out behind her as she leapt gracefully from one foot to another; he envied the prowess Tony exuded as he tore tracks through the earth; he aspired to be as agile as Laura. He loved running over the soft earth without shoes; his mama said it helped to keep them balanced and connected to the Earth in ways humans could not. He loved the sun to bathe his back while he jumped the creeks and cliffs. It brought him back.
He eventually slowed back to a walk when he entered Allison's street. Derek walked cautiously to the front door, raising his hand to knock. The door swung open, however, before he'd had a chance. Allison stood before him in sweats and a simple black tank top. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and she held a water bottle and iPod. She seemed genuinely surprised to see him. But after looking at her closely he saw faint circles under her eyes, and a small bruise on her forehead.
"Hey Derek. What are you doing here?" she stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind her. She bent over to tighten her shoelaces, then straightened to watch him carefully. Old habits die hard, he thought bitterly. They had a truce, an alliance, Allison was pack, but it was difficult for either of them to move past the transgressions both families had inflicted upon the other.
"Well we're having practice later on today, I was wondering if you would be joining." She nodded absently, but didn't relent in her scrutiny. He had to swallow and force himself to focus on her face. Her eyes were the same shade Kate's had been. "And we're having an emergency pack meeting. Your father needs to be there too."
Her chocolate eyes mimicked saucers. She understood that if he were willing to invite his enemy to his house then something important was going on. Then a shadow crossed her face and her bottom lip trembled. She ducked her head and squeezed her fists tightly. Derek could feel the tightening on the girl's muscles, hear the stutter in her heartbeat, smell the mix of emotions threatening to overflow; but the girl was holding back. She took a steadying breath that did absolutely nothing before speaking.
"Things are never going to be easy for us are they? When is this madness going to end?" she whispered to herself. Had he been a human he would have missed the near silent utterance. He felt the compulsion to soothe her and so he did.
He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. She hesitated, then looked up at him uncertainly. "I promise Allison that this is nothing like the other times. This is something we can handle without things hitting the fan. Don't worry." It wasn't exactly a lie; he was trying to be supportive. She nodded and grinned at him. It softened her face and the light returned to her eyes. Derek hesitantly returned it.
"Well my dad is out handling business somewhere. Want to go for a jog with me?" She started past him and he could only blink and stare at her back. Her heart had blipped.
His body was on fire. The cells in his body were screaming for release from the pain, but it was unrelenting. How many days would he endure this torture? When would they kill him already? That's all he wanted right now, more than to hold his fiancée in his arms, more than her kisses. He welcomed death, but they brought him closer to the brink every time before pulling back.
His mind was blackening, sick and twisted thoughts infiltrating the deep crevices. He couldn't sniff the air without smelling the tangy metallic thickness of blood; couldn't open his eyes without seeing red. And goodness did it hurt to open his eyes. The slightest exposure to light sent him cowering. All that time locked underground hadn't been good for him at all.
Jackson coughed and rolled over, once again trying to work his binds. The van he was in bounced and jostled him around mercilessly, and though his muscles screamed in protest he was determined to escape before they could do whatever it was they were planning. It didn't bother him anymore to resist. He knew his little sister was dead, had been dead since he was kidnapped, and therefore they had no leverage over him. He knew it the moment they'd thrown him in there. He could sense her last moments of life, up until they locked him away.
His captors were whispering in hushed tones up front, ignoring him. He didn't try to listen; he could only do one task at a time these days. One of them really did smell like death, and it unnerved him. That voice was one chilling, but he felt as if he should be responding and submitting to it. It spurred a latent bloodlust in him that he hadn't noticed before. With it came flashes of blood and green scales, but he couldn't decipher their meaning. All he knew was that the guy was connected to it, and for some odd reason he had a control over him.
The other guy smelled so familiar to him it was sickening. Whenever the man beat him he saw Allison's face, but that was impossible. The girl was his friend and was a part of the pack. Jackson wasn't sure why, but this guy was out for blood, and wanted the pack's head. He continually said it was their fault, but Jackson couldn't figure out what he meant. Whenever he said anything he was met with furious blows of rage and stabs with poisoned weapons.
The van sputtered to a stop and Jackson tore at his bindings frantically, but it was no use. He choked back a sob as the back doors were thrown open and he was bathed in cruel sunlight. He turned his head and growled out in pain. Damn they were going to kill him, he felt it in his gut this time. Beefy hands wrapped around his throat and dragged him from the van onto the woodsy floor.
The man grabbed his chin and forced him to look up. Jackson couldn't muster enough energy to even scowl at the man anymore. Still, that did not hinder his captor from backhanding him across the face. His cheek stung, but he refused to make a sound. If this was his end, he'd go down in silence.
"You listenin' to me boy? Like we said before, there's been a slight change in plans. I think this little present for your alpha will show him exactly what's waiting for you other bastards." He kicked Jackson in his abdomen and the boy folded in on himself. His face pressed against the earth, he breathed shallowly, chest burning once again. His body just wasn't healing fast enough and he didn't know how much longer he'd survive.
He felt the pressure leave his wrists and ankles, but it didn't brighten his hopes by any margin. He wanted to rip his kidnappers limb from limb, wanted out as much torment as he'd endured, but he could barely lift his head to see them leave. Jackson took a deep breath and pushed unsteadily to his feet. He swayed a minute before collapsing to his knees again. He coughed and blood spewed from his lips. He sobbed and forced himself to stand again. He had to get help, had to find Derek and the pack.
Something was definitely wrong. It was the way the wolves fidgeted and shifted at random, sniffing and growling at an invisible enemy. It was the way Lydia paced along the tree line, whining under her breath and looking expectantly into the dense shrubbery. It was the way Derek kept staring icily at Allison's back. None of it made any sense to Stiles.
He sighed and leaned against an old tree. Today was stealth training mostly, and he'd been given the task of "hunting" the wolves along with Allison. Speaking of the pretty brunette, Stiles was really anxious about her. She didn't talk with anyone about her nightmares, but even his dull human senses could see that she was deteriorating. Her smiles were slower coming these days, forced even sometimes. She clung to Scott but at the same time pulled back from him. It was as if she were trying to appease her heritage and her future at the same time. Stiles didn't find it fair, but he wasn't callous enough to tell her to choose sides already. Hadn't she done it enough?
Stiles checked to make sure his rifle was strapped securely on his back, before climbing up the tree. He climbed high enough for the large bundles of leaves to conceal him and mask his scent, but low enough for him to drop and run should "danger" arise. He silently lay flat on his stomach and drew his gun. He held his breath and let the forest settle around him.
He matched his heartbeat to the flapping of a crow's wings, matched his breathing to the tempo of the gusts of wind. Time ceased to have substantial meaning to him. In nature things just were; there weren't neat little slots to fit events. This was the true nature of a hunter, someone who could not just adapt, but become the area itself.
Down below a bush rustled and he quietly took aim. He held his breath and waited until the figure emerged from the trees. He released an audible gasp and nearly dropped his gun. The figure snapped its head in his direction, a viscous snarl ripping through from its mouth. Stiles flattened himself against the branch, holding his breath and attempting to stay hidden. His luck was not that good, however.
The wolf stepped closer towards his hiding spot and Stiles could clearly see the pale blue eyes speckled with flecks of gold. The sun caught the lustrous blonde hair and perfectly molded cheek bones. He released his breath in a huff and scampered down the tree, relief and irritation flooding through him. It was just like Jackson to make a big deal of coming back and scaring the shit out of him; and though Stiles was glad he had returned, the taller teen owed them all an explanation.
His feet hit the forest floor and he really took a closer look at his pack mate. His skin had taken on a sickly yellow, his eyes tinged an angry red, his hair dirty and matted with blood. His clothes were torn and burned in some places; his body held multiple scars and bruises. Jackson looked like he was dying. Stiles felt his stomach drop out of him and his vision tunneled. It was like a scene out of his nightmares, when the monster he'd become would stalk and kill him.
He took a shaky breath and focused; this wasn't about him, this was about Jackson. Stiles wasn't sure what to do, but he made up his mind quickly when the other teen collapsed to his knees. He rushed forward and threw one of his arms over his shoulder, gripped his waist, and hoisted him to his feet. The Hale house wasn't too far from here; he could get there and then alert the pack.
Jackson was like dead weight, and though he had bulked up some this past summer, it was becoming difficult to hold them both. When the house came into view he leaned Jackson against the nearest tree. The boy's body sagged, and he began to shake uncontrollably. His hands clawed at the tree, leaving gouges in its trunk; throaty growls rumbled in his chest, the red deepening.
Stiles crouched in front of him and timidly lay a hand on the wolf's shoulder. The boy jerked and glared at him. His heart skipped a beat; he'd seen that crazed blood thirsty look on Peter when he'd been rabid. He recoiled and knew instantly that was a mistake. Predators always chased their prey. Jackson jumped and had him pinned to the ground in seconds.
The wolf snarled in his face and sniffed delicately at his neck. Stiles did his absolute best not to move, but sweat was pooling on his brow and his chest was tightening. The last wolf that pinned him like this had tortured him for hours. But he knew Jackson wouldn't hurt him…right?
Jackson was near; she could feel it down to her chromosomes. The heat had rushed up her spine like a lightning bolt, the lull of her mate's scent tugging at the threads of her being. She could feel him close to her, calling her, but the scent was not his. It felt tainted somehow, but she could not forget the rugged, delicious smell of her boyfriend.
Abandoning the training session, she started back towards the Hale house, her heart thumping a mile a minute in her chest. She stopped every once and a while to listen or sniff the air, her frustration peaking. If he were here why hadn't he shown himself? Furthermore, why hasn't he called her in three weeks? It was grating on her nerves, but until he appeared there wasn't much she could do about it.
As she walked she reminisced about the day he left to meet his family, the last tender kisses they'd shared.
Jackson rolled off of her, their breathing labored, but satisfied. Lydia couldn't tear her eyes away from his godlike body: the perfectly toned muscles, nicely shaped cheeks flushed with pleasure, the inviting and glistening chest. She couldn't resist running her fingers over his abdomen, tracing her name and other things across the smooth skin. Little pricks of electricity raced up her fingers. Derek had explained to her once- very awkward- that sensations were heightened for mates, but she hadn't expected this.
He reached down and grasped her hand in his, holding it over his heart. He pulled her closer until their naked bodies were pressed tightly together. His gorgeous blue eyes bore into hers and she felt her skin tinge pink under his scrutiny. To play it off she coyly placed a peck on his lips. He caught her there and slowly deepened the kiss, his arm snaking down and cupping her bottom.
She pulled away and brushed her hair behind her ear. "Calm yourself tiger. I'm kind of tired." She laughed and laid her head on his chest.
Jackson continued to stroke her back in smooth circles. His heart was sluggish, breathing almost nonexistent. Startled she spared him a glance. "What's wrong?" she whispered.
He shook his head, smiling. "You're just so beautiful Lydia. I can't imagine why I never said it before." His voice was husky, shy.
Lydia raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm beautiful?" He'd said she was hot, stunning, drop- dead- gorgeous, but never beautiful. Strangely, it meant more to her than any other compliment he'd given. Beauty was smiling in the midst of tears, the sun shining in the heart of a storm, the creation of a new life. For him to call her beautiful was for him to see how lost and broken she was inside and diligently hold on.
His arms wrapped tighter around her body. "Yes, Lydia Ann Martin, you are beautiful." He fingered her ring and held her eyes. "Are you sure you want to wait for me? Think about it, am I really worth it?" his voice had dropped to a whisper.
She propped herself up on an elbow. "Jackson don't be stupid. You know how I feel about you."
"Do I? Say it to me. Say that no matter what happens to either one of us what we have won't ever change. Say that you won't ever let me walk away. Tell me Lydia. Tell me how you feel." His eyes were wide pools of sincerity and it sent her heart stuttering. She didn't want to fall hard…but it was too late. It was too late the first time they'd had sex, when she'd given him everything.
Lydia sat up completely and climbed out of the bed. She went to his drawers and chose the first t-shirt she could find. She slid it on and walked around to his side of the bed. Jackson eyed her warily, but sat up expectantly. She took a deep breath and slid until she was on one knee. She kept her eyes closed and fumbled for his hand.
She felt the warmth envelope hers and she finally met his gaze. They stared in silence for a minute before she spoke. "Hello, my name is Lydia Ann Martin. I am a mathematical genius and the most popular girl at Beacon Hills High School. I have the perfect house, perfect family, perfect face and body. But me? The real me? I snort when I laugh. I self medicate to keep from crumbling. I put on a brave face because anything less and I'll be consumed by the jealous girls that don't walk in my shoes. I pretend my parents don't hate each other and only use me as a crutch for their relationship. I love watching geek movies and reading on Friday nights. I'm best friends with this psychotic black haired chick and this hyperactive cutie. I'm a snarky werewolf that gives Hell to anyone that pisses me off. And I'm in love with this handsome idiot who has no idea what he means to me. And now that you know me, will you marry me?"
Jackson picked her up into his lap. He kissed her feverishly on her face, neck, and place he could easily reach. Then he pulled back and held her face. "Not exactly what I had in mind, but I like it. Yes, Lydia I will marry you."
Lydia shook her head and wiped away a stray tear. All she wanted to have him back in her arms and right now she was going stir crazy. She pushed though the bushes and froze in her tracks. Stiles was pressed into the ground, heart speeding, breath coming in hurried gasps. And sitting on top of his chest, dagger like canines inches from his face…was Jackson. Her head spun, but she swallowed down the nausea.
Her mate's head snapped in her direction and she saw it then. The same hungry, blood curling stare she'd seen in Peter Hale's eyes. She took a hesitant step forward her reaching for him. "Jackson? It's me… Lydia. Let Stiles go before you hurt him; he's our friend."
Jackson flinched at the sound of her voice, but slowly climbed off the human boy. He edged towards her uncertainly, stopping after every other step. She stood her ground and looked him over. She forced down a sob. He'd obviously been beaten and tortured, probably for days. He looked like he hadn't eaten in days and he had a slight limp. She could feel him struggling to heal and that scared her.
After an agonizing eternity, he pressed his palm flat against hers. His body shook but he held her gaze. His scent was off, tainted. Someone had done something to him and she thirsted for vengeance. "Lydia…" Jackson sputtered before collapsing into her arms.
Stiles was at her side in an instant, helping her hold him. He was unconscious, but his body was still quivering uncontrollably. Lydia couldn't hold back the earth shattering tears and let them flow over her cheeks. Stiles grabbed her arm tightly and she met his eyes.
"Howl for the pack. He needs help." She nodded mutely and threw her head back, the hollow sound tearing up her throat.
Author's notes: Sorry for the long wait, but hopefully this made up for it. My favorite part was Lydia "proposing" to Jackson. I guess I'm a fluff addict like that. Anyway, review and the next chapter will be up soon.
