Disclaimer: I don't own MTV's Teen Wolf or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.
Authors Note #1: This story is meant to fit into the canon events of season 4 until just before the end of 4x12, "Smoke and Mirrors" where it goes very AU. The premise is that Scott and co. escaped Kate in Mexico and return to Beacon Hills without the showdown we saw in the final episode where Kate is 'defeated.' In this au Derek still 'evolves', but Chris doesn't go with the Calaveras to track down Kate, but rather returns with the whole pack to Beacon Hills. – This is a Bobby Finstock/Chris Argent fic, with minor references to: Stiles/Derek & Lydia/Parrish here and there.
Warnings: spoilers for seasons three and four and one or two vague illusions to things that have happened in season five. *Contains: sexual content, blood, guts, gore, canon appropriate violence, references to using alcohol as a coping mechanism in both past and present tenses, kidnapping. - There will be more warnings to come as the story progresses. There will be 40 chapters and this fic will update once a week.
Regress to my mean (and kiss me pretty)
Chapter 36
He approached the treeline that ringed the cliff carefully, smelling them before he saw them. And while patience was still so not his strong suit, he ultimately chose to approach slowly. Keeping to a walk she could hear, deliberate and paced. It was all about appearing non-threatening. That if she could sense him coming, she would keep believing she was in control.
The whole point was to make this look like a last stand. He was the martyr coming to plead for mercy – talk terms. But he had to work it. He had to play it right for it to be believable. To make her think they weren't ready. That she was calling the shots. She had to think she had them right where she wanted them. After that, her ego would do the rest.
He'd once been told he couldn't act his way out of a paper bag. Something about a failure to be convincing when pushed out of his comfort zone. Yadda yadda. According to his old high school drama teacher anyway. He hoped for Chris' sake that the old coot had been exaggerating.
"I think that's far enough," Kate purred salaciously, hands on her hips as he made his way through the trees and into the clearing. She was standing with her back to the cliff edge, ringed by three Berserkers on either side. Leveling up somewhere beyond smug as she preened on his arrival. Tucking back a strand of long blonde hair as her human face provided a stark contrast to the last few times he'd seen her, feline and wild.
The only thing keeping him grounded was the way Chris' scent was only growing stronger with every step he took. Visceral and real as the ache in his chest eased a fraction. Taking a strange sort of comfort in knowing that somehow the man sensed him too.
Chris knew he was close.
The only problem was that he smelled a whole lot of other things too.
"Let's agree to disagree," he retorted easily, despite slowing his pace. Making it look like he was prowling around, inspecting the area, when he was really getting a couple inches closer with every pass.
"Still alive, I see," she remarked, looking him up at down before her gaze flicked off towards the trees. Tone dripping with self-confidence and a faux sort of playfulness he had a feeling had the ability to do a 180 in less than a second flat. "We're going to have to have a talk about that, you know. It's rude to keep secrets."
"I could say the same thing," he returned, watching a muscle in her cheek twitch when he raised a brow. "From what I hear you put 'Day of the Dead' to shame. You know what they say, there's only so many times you can wake up from the dead and still look pretty."
Her smile was animal and all teeth.
"Bobby Finstock, right?" she posed, like she didn't already know. "I was hoping we'd get a chance to talk."
He raised a brow. Remembering the moment before the impact. Remember her skulking in the shadows as he'd shifted back on the street with Lydia behind him. He remembered the fission of pain ripping down his back as she took her claws to him on the lacrosse field. He remembered hisses, taunts and angry sounds and- yes, okay, absolutely none of that was conductive to making civil conversation.
In fact, it was a testament to his new found willpower that he hadn't strangled her already.
"Well, you clearly knew where I lived," he pointed out, back teeth grinding together as he pushed down the urge to crack them in irritation - just like a bear when it felt threatened. "You could've stopped by, gotten my official renovation tour, some coffee and we could have handled this like questionably stable adults."
"Hell, you could have called, knocked, sent a telegram, wafted a couple of smoke signals my way. Anything really," he continued breezily. Salty, passive aggressive and secretly loving it as her goonies shifted restlessly. Exhaling humid breathes through their skullbone masks that echoed like a thousand miniature roars. "Kidnapping boyfriends seems a little old fashioned. Don't you think?"
"I like to think of it as bringing the old ways back," she remarked airily as he glared at her. Hating her for being able to do this protagonist to antagonist thing so effortlessly while he felt like he was barely doggy paddling. Mainlining the petty sarcasm that got him through the majority of the school year like it was a life raft he was trying to keep afloat. "You know what they say about trends. The best stuff always gets recycled."
"Besides," she added, wind kicking up wisps of blond as the air beyond the edge of the cliff reflected dark and without end in the moonlight. "Chris and I were a bit overdue for some family bonding. You know the last time we were within five feet of one another he tried to kill me?"
"Imagine that," he deadpanned. Taking it as a victory when her lips twitched in irritation. An involuntary tell that reflected clear as day.
Bobby Finstock: 1
Crazy Kate: 0.
"Chris has told me a lot about you," she said after a moment. Looking like she wanted to do nothing more but crush his momentary victory under her two inch combat boot heels.
The hairs on his bare arms prickled in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. Suddenly getting a flash – a memory – of little Kate Argent trailing happily behind Chris as they walked to the bus stop during their senior year. He could still picture her bubble gum pink high tops and.
How had it come to this?
How could someone become so warped?
"Oh, don't worry, your secret is safe. If there was one thing my big brother was good at it is keeping his mouth shut," she explained, body language promising far darker things than her tone let on as she leaned casually against the Berserker on her right, running her fingers over the yellowing bone with a distinctly satisfied air before dropping the bomb she'd clearly been holding on to for effect. "Even when he was given...incentive to spill."
It wasn't a threat. It was a fact. A crime that had already been committed. And he hated everything about it. His hackles rose. Swallowing the growl that rose up as the urge to show her his teeth and force her to yield grew stronger by the second.
"I used to admire that about him, you know. That stubbornness? It's a family trait. We got it from our father. Shame my brother didn't inherit anything else worthwhile."
The radio sized lump in the pocket of his sweat pants and the faint scent of Chris were the only things keeping him grounded - focused. Forcing him to stay on topic as he strained his senses. Trying to catch some sign that the others were almost done planting the charges. As it was he could barely sense Parrish, Deaton, Liam, Malia, and Scott closing the gap behind him. Staying out of range until the explosions went off.
All he had to do was stall for time.
He could do this.
"I've heard a lot about you too," he replied eventually, shrugging flippantly. Trying to think of happy thoughts. "The usual. Carnage. Blood. Murder. Badly thought out evil plots. Do you even have a license to drive an eighteen wheeler?"
She smiled silkily.
The expression would have been almost pretty if there had been an inch of warmth to it.
"In certain South American countries, probably about ten years ago," she admitted. Smoothing a hand down her red leather jacket in a way that on anymore else would have probably been fastidious. But on her it just smoothed the bumps around the congealed gun attached to her waist. All the way to the knives hidden in the sleeves. Showing him all the ways she could be killing him right now.
A year ago he would have been intimidated.
Today? Not so much.
Oh, how time had flown.
He wasn't worried about himself.
He was worried about Chris.
Chris was the only thing that mattered.
He hadn't known what he had to lose – what was worth saving - before Chris came along.
"Personally I'm surprised you survived the crash at all. But then again, you have a bad habit of doing that, don't you Bobby?" Kate remarked, before waving a hand dismissively. Like that part didn't actually interest her despite the clear tart of excitement that issued as she took him in from the grey of his sweat pants to the too tight wife-beater Deaton had tossed him before they'd piled into the vehicles and burned rubber out of the clinic parking lot.
"You know, when I say I know all about you, I actually do," she purred, cocky and challenging. But not bothering to set any bait. She didn't need to. He was her captive audience after all. "You should know that you were a bit of a conversation piece in our house for a while. You were pretty much the only thing my brother talked about the year we left Beacon Hills. He just couldn't figure you out. I think he even tried to hate you for a while. Trying to make whatever he was feeling make sense, I guess. After we moved I thought that was the end of it, especially after Dad introduced Victoria and her family. I saw that coming a mile away. She was from an old hunting family same us, and both sides pulled the long con making sure they ended up together. But here you are, all those years later. Guess you guys were meant to be. Romantic, huh?"
"Where is Chris anyway?" he broke in, intercepting before she could dig a hole so deep they'd probably never find their way out of it. "The torture basement?"
She laughed, pleasantly pealed like she was talking about the fucking weather. "Big brother was a bit of a handful after he woke up so I had to put him in a time out. I have the boys watching over him now," she remarked, gesturing at the Berserkers flanked around her. "As you can see I'm a bit flush at the moment."
The Berserker on her left was so new he could smell the taint of human fear and regret.
Like at the last moment they'd tried to change their mind.
Terrified screams quickly suffocated under a new skin of yellowing bone.
"But I suppose it's only polite to show you the goods. He's undamaged, I promise. A bit groggy, but he'll heal up just fine in a couple of days. I'll even promise not to kill him for a while," she hummed with the air of bestowing a favor. "Think of it as a show of faith. I have something you want. You have something I want. Simple."
The force behind the snap of her fingers was jarring as she beckoned one of the Berserkers. "Bring my brother and tell the others it's time."
"What could I possibly have that you want, lady?" he snorted derisively, forgetting he was supposed to be making nice as his bullshit-o-meter hit maximum. Internally marveling on how much he'd grown as a person as the woods surrounding them actually did more to calm him than unnerve him like they used to.
"You know what I want!" she snapped, snarling as her eyes flashed yellow. Features twisting to feline before she forced them back. Losing her cool for the first time as he took a half-step back, hoping he looked sufficiently cowed.
'I really don't,' he thought silently.
They'd run through the basics on the drive. Derek had given him a list of the usual suspects. The popular theory was it was going to be the same shit she'd pulled on Derek before. Wanting a quick fix to her little control problem. Maybe with some creature-feature envy thrown into the mix. She wanted what he had, yadda yadda. He'd heard that particular sales pitch more than once.
Get in line, crazypants.
"So, I imagine Scott and his little friends are sulking in the shadows?" she remarked conversationally as they waited. "Probably with some poorly thought out plan to finally be rid of me?"
"It isn't always about you, you know, he scolded, tone sing-song mocking as he arched an unimpressed brow at her. Hoping he was channeling at least a low level Derek-glare for dramatic effect. "We all have our issues. Personally, I think it's rude you're infringing on my adjustment time. Because frankly, if anyone has the right to get angsty about all this, it's me. This is all your fault, anyway."
A bubble of suppressed glee rose up as her lips thinned into an irritated line.
She liked to dish it out but she sure didn't like when it was served back, piping hot, did she?
"So, what's the deal, Bobby?" she posed, a fraction more aggressive than she'd been up until this point. "You wander in like a sacrificial lamb - a tasty little distraction while they march in with their best shot?"
"More or less," he replied with a shrug. Feigning nonchalance like a boss as his fingers itched to fiddle with the radio. Come on, guys.
"Perfect," she chirped, like it was excellent news and he'd just made her fucking day. Sounding like a soccer mom who'd just heard about a mega-sale at Target. Switching tracks on a dime as she- ugh, actually fucking winked at him. "It's high time someone cleans up shop around here. I think I'm going to give this town a bit of a spring cleaning – perhaps we should call it a culling. Beacon Hills is going to need a new alpha, after all."
Something shifted in his awareness when the sound of Chris' voice aired out close by. Making him grin savagely, listening without turning his head, as the man kicked out. Making another voice – angry and deep - rasp through the air with a bitten-off curse. Clearly still fighting despite the lingering chemical stink that hugged the fresh, angry-red track marks etched into the pale of the man's forearms.
They'd been keeping him drugged.
No wonder he hadn't heard anything from Chris until now.
He was probably still high as a fuckin' kite!
"This town is just full of sexual deviants. Alpha this, Omega that. The internet loves that shit you know?" he babbled, just running off at the mouth at this point. Trying to keep the distraction going. Knowing the whole thing was starting to wear thin when she narrowed her eyes at him.
"Whatever it is, it isn't going to work, you know," she told him, tossing back a thin curtain of dirty blond hair as she watched him watch her with a predatory glare. Telling him without words that he was in way over his head. That she was going to crush him. Use him. Then-
"Over confidence is considered to be one of the new deadly sins, you know," he slapped back, turning to look as the Berserker pushed through the trees with Chris in tow. Trailing a mish-mash of men of various ages, all in hunting gear.
He breathed in violence – love - as he found Chris through the mess of moving limbs and aggressive stances. Letting his eyes speak for him as the moment dragged in the best and worst of ways. Chris was beat up and gagged with his hands tied behind his back. His hair was slicked red on the right side, left cheek purpling up with a vicious looking bruise. But other than that he was alright. Better yet, he looked pissed. Blue eyes angry, but not leaving his once. Only looking away when the Berserker forced him to his knees in the dirt.
"Been recruiting, I see," he murmured after a beat, realizing with a start that the people who'd joined them were human. Regular fucking people. Unfuckingbelievable. "What did you tell them? One of us cheated on you? Maybe owes you money?"
"Oh, you mean these guys?" she said with a chuckle, gesturing as they filled the gaps between the Berserkers. "These guys are in it for the glory. They're trophy hunters, Bobby. I told them that after I have what I want, they can have you. The best challenge out there is hunting something that thinks. Something that can hunt you back. It's the ultimate experience. Believe me, I've tried it."
"Charming," he grimaced, Feeling like he'd just been read the sales pitch for a really shady vacation resort in the ass end of Mexico where people's side job included organ harvesting and kidnapping. "See that in a movie? Classic. Very original, Kate."
The hunting posse just stared back at him in a very nasty way.
Ugh.
Where did she even find these people anyway?
Christ.
"Tell me, Bobby. Really- I'm curious," she thrummed salaciously. Looking disgustingly smug as she gestured to the group ringed around them, then to him – alone. "You just waltz in here and what? What was the plan? You're outnumbered. There's no need to be wasteful. We can talk about this. Despite what they might have told you, I can be reasonable…if there is enough in it to make it worth my while."
The memory of the Lacrosse field was so visceral all he would have to do was close his eyes and he might as well have been back there. Back to the hazing fog, the mineral singe of expelled shot, the unearthly howls and snarls. It was all there. He carried it with him like a scar. A moment – no, the moment – his entire life had changed.
His teeth sharpened from behind the tight line of his lips.
Reasonable, his ass!
"Well, I kicked your ass the other two times, so I figured I'd go for a strike," he snarked, catching the tell-tale twitch of Chris' lips and the minute shake of his head. Able to guess what the man was thinking as he fought to keep a slightly manic, slightly hysterical grin off his face. Praying to whatever deity was currently listening that Chris was far enough away from the edge.
The radio in his pocket suddenly crackled static, clicking four sharp bursts.
Just like they'd planned.
That was the signal!
"What was that?" she demanded, head whipping up. Words laced with venomous suspicion as the hunters shifted uneasily. Somehow managing to express more individuality than ever as they peered from him to the treeline with various degrees of suspicion.
But he ignored them.
He wasn't one for speeches. Words were razor sharp trip-ups that could just as easily drown you than raise you up. Truth be told, he'd never really trusted them, especially when they came from him. Along with his inability not to be awkward in any and all social situations, the odds that whatever was coming out were the right words were not exactly in his favor. That was why he stuck with what he knew. His standard "Independence Day" speech at the start of the season. His 'buckle down, its final week you lazy brats' pep talk. Which was why it was kind of mind-blowing that right now, he knew exactly what to say.
"You know, Kate, you were right," he remarked quietly, lifting the radio slowly as the hunters raised their guns. Filling the windy clearing with the click-click of cocking barrels. "Our plan is shit. It's last minute and might not even work - and if it doesn't the next few minutes are going to be really awkward. But you know what? I have a feeling everything is going to work out just fine. You know why? Because if you were meant to win, you would have killed me on that field. But you didn't. And no matter how hard you try, you'll never win. Not against me. Scott. Derek. Chris. Because you're wrong and even the dirt under your feet knows it."
A cleansing hush of wind teased between his fingers like an elemental sigh. Something rock deep and seeped in mineral-carved time. Like an eon-long exhale that'd come from the earth itself, as a familiar surge of adrenaline soaked through him like flood waters on the rise.
"We both had a choice coming into this," he told her, shaking his head. Tiredly zen all of a sudden as he stared between her and Chris. Wondering how things had come down to this as the wind threatened to shift. Feeling a sad smile spread when he realized how fucking sad it all was. "You chose yourself. I chose him. That's the difference. That's the big secret. And it's the point you're never ever going to get."
Kate opened her mouth, canines sharpening into visible points. But he trundled right over the words that never made it out of her mouth. Finding Chris again the man sent him a tight little nod. Giving him the affirmation – the permission – he didn't know he'd been looking for before yelling "now!" into the radio and diving head first into the long grass.
The look on her face when the bombs went off was priceless.
A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. – There will be more to come, stay tuned.