Chapter 52: Avant La Guerre*

Not a single animal stirred in the forest. Not a single bird chirped up high in the trees. Not a single whistle of the wind blew through the town of Beacon Hills. It remained unnaturally still, unnaturally even for a supernatural environment.

Peter Hale stood at the top of the highest peak of Beacon Hills. All of his senses were on high alert, listening intently in the forest below. The soft shuffling of dirt was faint, but Peter caught the sound. Barely.

A grin spread across his face. The battle was getting closer and, soon, throats will be in shreds and bullets nestled in ribs. And, he will stand-alone. Success was dawning on him and, if everything goes as he hopes, then all will end well for him.

BREAK

Moonlight exposed the frail, barren trees surrounded by the dried leaves that fell of the limbs. And, stalking over them was the Originals and their army.

Henri, Harold, and Harvey stood in the back. Harold, the second-in-command, quickly analyzed the area.

"The Argents are coming up on the east," concluded Harold. "I can hear their guns."

Henri took a deep breath. "To think that this battle may end this prolonged feud."

"Or our lives," added Harvey.

Henri and Harold stared at the youngest. Harvey shrugged. "It's the truth."

A lurking presence entered and Deucalion showed his face, dark glasses hiding his wolfish eyes. "My pack is on standby," he announced. "Should be ready for an easy kill."

"Except that they have those bullets," reminded Harold to Deucalion. "One brush, you're dead."

Deucalion smiled. "I believe I'm quick enough to dodge a bullet."

"A simple reminder," Henri said, noticing the tension radiating off his son. "Best to be ready now. They're upon us."

Deucalion bowed out and leapt back to his pack of wolves. Harold leaned into Henri's ear. "He knows."

Henri's brows rose. "Knows what?"

"About Scott."

"Point?"

"I don't trust him with that knowledge," Harold said.

"Of course you don't," Henri agreed. "I don't either. But, now is not the time to slice his throat open."

Harold restrained himself as he spoke. "I know, but…"

"We'll deal with it later," Henri urged and he stared out in the depth of the forest, "they're here."

Harold noticed it immediately. The whole place changed. The smell. Sound. And even the taste of the area had adapted into a human stench. His claws grew out.

"I'll take the front father," Harold said, but Henri pulled him back.

"No," he ordered. "Not this time."

Harold was baffled. "Why not?"

"You have a son to think about now, Harold," Henri said. "You can't go off running into the fray. No…besides, if I die, you'll need to take the lead."

Henri turned to Harvey. "Take the west flank. Join up with Ernis."

Harvey nodded and dropped down from the ledge. He gave a somber glance to Harold, a meaning they understood. Survive the night.

Harold fell back in line next to his father. "Then what do I do?"

With his eyes glowing bright, blood red, he answered. "Command."

BREAK

Chris Argent checked his gun again, counting the bullets he loaded and then packed in his belt. His fingers were steady, but his heart raced like any persons. The eerie silence that surrounded them in the forest gave him no comfort. Gerard was with him, carrying a gun as well and a silver tinted sword stowed in its scabbard.

"Did you take care of your daughter?" Gerard asked.

"Yeah," grunted Chris.

"It was the right thing," Gerard said. "She doesn't understand yet. Corrupted by that monster."

"I know."

"You should have killed him when you had the chance, Christopher."

"I realized."

"Then, this would have been simpler."

"Of course."

Chris wasn't in the mood to talk. The guilt racked over him as his mind swarmed with the images of Allison's pleading voice. He had tricked Allison down into their basement, trapping her in a panic room he created in case a werewolf ever managed to get into the house.

He can still hear her screams, pleading for him to let her out. Poundings on the door nearly drowned out his commands to the two soldiers to stand guard of the door until they got back.

Chris didn't regret the action. He did it all to keep his only child safe. Safe from her own delusional sense of love. But, he still felt guilty.

Gerard, however, didn't respect Chris' hopes to stop the conversation. "I told you she knew about Scott," he continued. "That she was protecting him."

Chris did not reply.

"Protecting the monster that will only break her heart," Gerard said. "Or worse, eat it."

Chris turned to his father. "I get it! Okay! You don't need to keep talking. I'm here with you, aren't I? I put Allison away! Why keep talking?"

Gerard shoved his face into his son's. "Because I know that you're still questioning the mission."

Chris didn't speak. He kept eye contact with his father, nose flaring, but said nothing.

Gerard pulled away. "Remember, this is for our family. Remember little Zoé and her family. Do you really want that for Allison?"

Chris glanced down and sighed. "No."

"Then don't question the mission," Gerard said. "Kill the boy and the rest will be easy."

Gerard side-stepped Chris and marched forward through the woods. Chris treaded behind him, still thinking about Allison pleas to let her out and not to hurt Scott. But, he pushed it hard out of his mind. He can't let emotions play into this mission. Sacrifices were needed. To save the world. To save Allison from a similar fate as Zoé and her family. Chris hoped that Scott would understand.

BREAK

Derek tapped his fingers against this triceps. The moon's light dawned on them. Melissa kept taking nervous glances at her son as if expecting him to start snarling. Stiles had his head cocked back against the wall, every now and then sighing loudly. Isaac shifted from one foot to another, his eyes focused straight at the door.

Only Scott seemed elsewhere. His eyes glazed over as he thought: What was happening? Is Allison safe? What will become of him, Stiles, and his mother?

Everything ran through his mind like a running engine. Nothing slowed it down. A drumming beat pounded in a rhythm that disturbed him. It heightened his senses. He could hear a mile away. A girl chatters about her boyfriend issues to a friend. A baby is crying as the mother and father made cooing sounds. A runner's fast heartbeat drummed in rhythm to their footsteps. Tiny droplets splashed against the metal sink's floor.

Then, he heard a faint cry. Not one of death, but of plea. Desperation. But, the cries faded. Static almost. He sensed the emotion, but the words escaped his ears. Concentrating as hard as he could that beads of sweat slid down from his temple, he felt a familiarity. The voice burrowed inside him, perking up every sense, every urge he had to come to their rescue. But, he had no idea why this sudden instinct to protect.

As the voice dug into his conscious, his chest began to howl. His hold on his present disappeared, replaced with blur scenes. A dungy basement. Weapons sprawled everywhere. A big silver box stood in the corner. Guards, armed, patrolled the basement.

Then, all the visions zoomed back to him and Scott gasped awake.

Melissa spun to her son and Derek arched his eyebrows, marching over. Melissa checked Scott's face, eyes, and took a pulse.

"What is it?" demanded Derek. "You're heart is racing."

"Is the venom still active?" panicked Melissa.

Scott, breathing heavily, shook his head. "N-nothing," he said. "I-I had a nightmare."

Melissa combed her son's hair back from his face, noticing sweat glazing his forehead. "You look sick, Scott."

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," said Derek. "And, if you die on my watch, then I die too."

Scott gently pushed his mother's hand away from him. "I'm fine! Just a nightmare. That's all."

"But you're eyes weren't even closed—"

"It's happened before!" Scott countered and he stood up, his knees wobbling. "I'm fine. I need some air."

Scott marched off into the bedroom, slamming the door closed. Melissa immediately got up to follow him, but Stiles, who noticed the fear in Scott's eyes, intervened.

"I got this Ms. McCall," he said, and knocked on the bedroom door. "Scott! It's me."

Seconds later, Stiles was inside the bedroom as everyone else waited outside patiently. Derek had his head tilt to the side and Melissa knew that he was eavesdropping on the duo.

"What are they talking about?" Melissa asked.

Derek's blue eyes glanced at her. "Nothing. They haven't said a word."

BREAK

The moment Stiles stepped inside the room, he saw Scott with a pencil. He was writing furiously on scraps of paper from Stiles' backpack. Stiles strolled over and Scott shoved the paper in his hands.

Without a word, Stiles read the note:

Don't say a word. Derek will hear. Allison is in trouble.

Stiles stared up at Scott. He opened his mouth, but Scott waved his hand frantically. Stiles sighed, grabbed the pencil, and wrote.

How?

Scott quickly replied.

I sensed her. She's trapped. Something's gone wrong.

Stiles read the line twice.

We can't leave! Derek won't let you. Your mother.

Scott nodded and indicated to the window. Stiles wrote.

You want to go out the window?

Scott nodded and began writing again.

Only way.

Stiles scoffed.

Or we can stay here and be safe. Instead of going right into the lion's den.

Scott snatched the pencil out of Stiles' hand.

Most of them are at the fight. Only two guards. She's trapped in the basement.

Stiles shook his head.

Two times the kill

Scott scribbled.

I'm going.

Stiles read the message and sighed. With a momentary look up at Scott, Stiles rolled his eyes and dropped the paper. He nodded and Scott smiled, relived that his friend is joining him in the escape to rescue Allison.

BREAK

Harold opened his eyes. "They're on the east end. Two hundred yards away."

Henri nodded. "Yep. Be careful of their bullets," warned the elder Original. "They'll kill you before you even feel it."

Harold sent Flynn off to tell the soldiers of the position. As Flynn sprinted off across the forest floor, Harold took a big breath. His nerves were on fire! Dancing and flipping at every sound, touch, taste, and sight. He calculated everything and his mind buzzed with information overload.

"They're going to try to head north, up to the hills," said Harold, jerking his head to the dark slopes. "They'll want the hire ground."

"Not if we cut them off," advised Henri.

Harold turned to his father. "Let me send a few up to the hills. Catch any that manage to break through our lines."

"Harold—"

"I'm not on the front lines," said Harold. "I'll be okay. And, I'll see what's happening down below. Get a good view."

Henri pondered his son's strategy. His lips thinned and his eyes downcast for a moment before nodding.

"All right," he relented. "Just—don't get hit."

"Yes sir," Harold said and he gathered up a few of his men, planning on catching Flynn on the way. "You be careful too father."

Henri nodded and gave a hint of a smile to his son. "I will."

With his small group, Harold sprinted to the hills. As he guessed, he caught Flynn on his way back. Flynn informed Harold of the hunter's movements. When he got to the east side, Flynn swore he could smell their blood and their hammering heartbeats. The time was near.

Harold nodded and scoped out the scene below. Flynn was right. The humans were now in eyesight for the werewolves below. The battle was about to begin.

BREAK

Melissa waited for Derek to tell her of anything from the inside of the bedroom. But, all he could tell her was the sounds of scratching and tiny squeals. After long moments of no responses, Melissa threw her hands up in the air.

"I'm going in!" Melissa marched to the door and, without knocking, threw the door opened.

She stood.

Derek, confused by her sudden halt, hurried over. And, his heart plummeted a thousands stories. The room was empty, cleared except for a broken pencil and a wadded up paper. No sign of Scott or Stiles. But, both Melissa and Derek knew where they escaped as the window had a wide, circular gap that allowed the nightlife entrance.

Derek fumed. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Just then, Derek heard a shot echoing in his eardrum followed by a long, howl that prickled his wolf hairs.

BREAK

Stiles and Scott were creeping amongst the bushes outside Allison's house. The place was alight like a beacon. But, Scott only sensed two heartbeats. The ones down in the basement. But, why could he not sense Allison's?

"What's the plan?" asked Stiles. "Besides escaping out of the window and stalking in the bushes?"

"I don't know," said Scott. "I can only sense two heartbeats."

Stiles gaped at him. "Two? Just two? So, we only have to take out one hunter?" Stiles smiled, more confident. "That's not bad."

"Not good," corrected Scott. "The heartbeats are two hunters. Not Allison. She's not in there."

Stiles smile vanished. "What do you mean she's not in there? You said you felt her here. What do you mean—"

"I must have sensed it wrong."

Stiles thought. "Or…it was a trap. You know. To lure you out of hiding."

Scott didn't think of that, but why would Allison go along with the plot. She was on their side right.

A rippling gunfire startled the two boys. They nearly jumped out of their hiding spot, but then settled quietly back down in the bushes just a long howl followed.

Scott understood the howl. "It began."

BREAK

Harold watched as the hunters and werewolves collided with each other. He heard the first bullet ripple between the werewolves before snuggling into the bark of a tree. He heard the howl that announced the fight has begun.

Everything will end tonight. But, all that Harold mattered was that Scott and Melissa's lives will not end. Safe and hidden away with Hale, they'll get the chance to live without worrying of being murdered or tracked down by hunters. They could live in peace; only once dawn arrives to bring in the new day. Until then, darkness will remain casted down on them.

Harold unleashed his claws, snarling. "Let's begin."

*supposedly means prewar in French