Chapter One

Tennis shoes sank into soft dirt as he ran through the forest, fear and instinct driving him. His thoughts were jumbled, his memory foggy. Where had he been? Fragments of memories swirled together. The sound of the basketball hitting the gym's wooden floor was highlighted by the smell of burning wood and flesh that shifted into the familiar scent of game day snacks and the jolting howls of his family dying.

Derek slammed to a stop, covering his ears. It hurt. He could still hear them dying. It hurt.

No, it wasn't the sound that hurt, it was the bullet ripping through his back and out through his ribs, splintering bone as it exited. He pitched forward, unable to drag in a breath as he stumbled once and fell to the muddy ground. His hand went instantly to the source of the pain as a sharp cough drew blood up his throat with the air. He knelt there for what felt like forever, feeling his body desperately trying to knit itself back together and he risked a look back in the direction the bullet had come from.

There she was. Blonde and beautiful, with that smile that always dragged him in. "Thanks for all the help, handsome," she all but purred, and the realization hurt more than the wound. This was his fault. It was all his fault.

"Derek!"

Laura's voice was sharp in his ear as she sped past him, hand reaching out to grab the back of his jersey as she passed by to drag him to his feet and away with her.

And she did grab him, but instead of his knees locking and his strength carrying him in their retreat, his world shifted violently. Almost like the ground itself had moved out from under him. Derek sucked in a deep and startled breath as his eyes snapped open, the forest replaced with a ceiling above him.

"Derek?"

He blinked hard, the tired voice in the bed next to him a stark contrast with his sister that he could have sworn had just shouted his name. He turned as Braeden reached out, eyes still closed and fumbling in the dark half-hazardly for him. Her fingers landed against his bare chest, tapping him as if she were still trying to get his attention. "Your phone," she grumbled.

Derek loosed the breath, mind finally coming fully out of the dream. He wasn't in the woods outside of his family home in Beacon Hills. He was in Austria. With Braeden as she finished up a job that he'd been offering her support on. His sister has been dead for nearly four years now and the family that had died in the fire for longer still. Kate Argent was, on most days, a bad memory and he'd moved on from the pain he had drowned in for so many years. Or, at the very least, learned how to keep his head above water.

"Derek!" Braden's frustrated huff of his name dragged him out of his thoughts and he keyed in on the sound of the phone.

"Sorry." He rolled over, cursing the contraption silently, and slid the bar to unlock it. "This is why I didn't have a phone for the better part of the year."

A chuckle greeted him. "Really, because I assumed it was so the FBI didn't track you."

Derek rubbed at his eyes roughly. "What'd you want, Argent?"

And just like that, Chris Argent shifted to the business at hand. "What do you know about the DeBois Pack?"

"Nothing good," the Werewolf answered as he sat up, risking a glance at his girlfriend. He found Braeden's clever, dark eyes fixed on him. The irritation at being woken up was quickly being replaced with a curious concern.

"More than a phone call's worth?"

"Probably so. You in Beacon Hills?"

"Yeah. I know this is probably the last place you want to be this time of year, but if you can make it I could use your help on this one."

Derek shot Braeden an apologetic look and she reached forward, her touch light against his back. Strange, he wasn't sure when they'd gotten to the point of unspoken communication, but there they were. He adjusted the phone in his grip. "I'll catch the first flight out in the morning."

"We're missing something."

Scott startled from his place where he'd been half studying, half nodding off towards dozing on his bed and he blinked several times to clear his vision. Stiles came into focus, standing at his makeshift theory board - when had he put that together? Where had he even gotten the string from at this time of night? - with his arms crossed thoughtfully. He took a step back, then another.

"Not a big room, Stiles," Scott warned just before his best friend toppled over a pile of books on the floor.

"Huh?" He looked down, seeming to register the mishap waiting ot happen. He readjusted and pointed to one of his threads. "I think they started here and made their way down the coast."

Scott sighed, closing his biology book. Even if he could shove any more information into his brain before his 8AM test tomorrow morning, Stiles wasn't going to give him time to focus up. He had called him in a near-manic state two weeks prior and told him to check his email. Scott had been inundated with news articles and notes supposedly linking them together. A dozen or so bizarre animal related deaths in the past month all up and down the West Coast and half as many Human murders that Stiles was growing more and more convinced were Hunter related. Monroe's hunters, to be exact, but that was a truly terrifying thought after a relatively normal first semester at college. It had been the kid that had been cut in half that had finally won Scott over on the growing theory - it had always been a when, not an if. Stiles had always had a good sense for putting the craziness together - and he'd promised his best friend that they would follow his lead just as soon as he'd finished his last final of the semester. It wasn't his fault that UCD was a week behind Georgetown.

"And, if my trajectory is right, look where that puts them." Stiles tapped the map right where Beacon Hills sat. "Shocking, I know. Being a focal point for the paranormal and all. Just in time for Christmas break."

"My mom's gonna kill me if I spend the break tracking down some rogue Alpha turning and abandoning his betas," Scott grumbled.

"She's adjusted pretty well to all of this."

"Sure. I mean, she'll get it, but she'll still kill me."

Stiles hummed a distracted little note and reached forward to a crime scene photo of a dead man that Scott was relatively sure that he had no legal reason to have. The man had been a late night clerk at the gas station that all the students stopped off at by campus. Nice guy. Friendly. Going to night classes. Scott frowned at the photo and reached for it. "This is the only one from the area?"

"This guy and a lady. Maggie. She was a student."

Scott sighed as he examined the telltale signs of a werewolf attack. "It's not the Beta's fault. Not if they've been abandoned by their Alpha. They probably don't even know what they're doing."

"You think you can find them?"

"Maybe. The full moon was three nights ago. If the Hunters were here, I don't think they caught him."

"Or her," Stiles offered offhandedly.

"Right."

"So are we after the Beta or the Alpha starting all the trouble?"

"Both. The Beta to help them, the Alpha to stop them. But first…. Sleep. I have to pass bio tomorrow morning."

"Yeah. Right. Class. Sure thing, I'll just —"

"Stiles."

"Uh-huh. Lights out." Stiles caught the light switch as he flopped on Scott's roommate's bed and the lights flickered off. "Hey, Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"I missed this."

There was a beat, but it didn't matter how long he waited, Scott knew he couldn't talk himself out of the truth. "Me too."

He could still remember Christmas at the Hale household as a child. The tinsel, the lights, and all the smells. His father had been obsessed with finding the perfect tree every year, citing the fact that he'd never gotten to choose one with his own parents. So he and Talia would take them out - Laura and Derek, then Cora when she came along - to pick one out as a family. It was always the biggest one, reaching almost to the ceiling of the entryway, or at least that's how Derek remembered it. The smell of pine and the way his mother would ruffle his hair and remind him not to get too frustrated with the tangled lights. His father would hoist him up on his shoulders to hang the decorations up high, and Derek never could recall a moment of fear in his young childhood. He'd been safe. He'd been protected. He'd been loved.

Beacon Hills was lit up like a star on top of a Christmas tree as Derek drove his rental car across the town line. Light snow fell, adding just enough of a dusting over the icy roads to hide how slick they were, but there was something about the scent that filtered through the cracked window that felt simultaneously like a homecoming and a nightmare waiting to unfurl. His grip tightened on the wheel as the dream he'd been lost in the night before crept back into his mind's eye and the memory it'd been pulled from settled into place. Ten years was a long time unless it was the loss of everything you loved.

A screeching car horn jolted Derek out of his thoughts and he blinked at the irritable driver he'd nearly cut off. He sighed, motioning them on, and turned towards downtown.

The cold hit him even in the underground garage and he grabbed his jacket from his single bag he had with him. Slipping it over his shoulders he started up, climbing the stairs rather than risking the absurdly slow elevator that all of his tenants grumbled about. He really did need to get the damn thing fixed now that the FBI had unfrozen his accounts and cleared him of the murders in Brazil.

It was quiet in the stairwell and Derek sped his way up to his floor, a sense of familiarity settling in as he reached the door and slid it open. The lights were on and he found Chris Argent sitting on his couch - white sheet that had been draped across it to keep the dust off tossed to the floor - with a book in hand. The Hunter looked up and motioned with the tome. "Got quite a library upstairs."

"A few good ones," Derek answered noncommittally as he caught sight of a book on European history that his father had given him years ago.

Argent set the book down and rose to his feet. "I didn't know you read French."

"Je parle Français aussi,"* he answered casually and watched the older man quirk an eyebrow. "Any reason you wanted to meet here rather than where you're staying?"

"I'm kind of in limbo for a bit."

Derek tilted his head in question, but Argent waved him off.

"No Braeden?"

"She had to wrap up the job." He paused, not liking the look he was receiving. He dropped his bag and dusted off a barstool at the table to take a seat on. "Unless this is a hell of a lot more complicated than you let on over the phone."

"Maybe. What do you know about the DeBois Pack?"

"They're an old family out of France. Arrogant, elitist. Any regard for Human life that they have comes from a need to stay under the radar with what I'm guessing are your Parisian counterparts."

"Any reason you can think of that they'd come here?"

Derek's eyes narrowed as he studied the man that had once been his sworn enemy, looking for any sign that he knew more than he was letting on. "Given the right circumstances, any pack can expand anywhere. I know a history, not who they are today."

Argent frowned. "There've been a rash of deaths all along the western coast, mostly around college towns. We think they're looking for someone."

"Who's we?" Derek cut in.

"My Parisian counterpart. We think they're looking for an Alpha."

"Scott."

"True Alphas were considered a myth in plenty of circles until Scott. You think it's enough to bring them Stateside?"

Derek leaned against the table. "Maybe. They're…. From what I understand they put a lot of stock into their pack. Their bloodline. They don't exactly go around recruiting just anyone."

"Scott's not just anyone."

"No. He's not."

"So it's possible?"

"Have they had a change in leadership recently?"

"Yeah. Lucien - my cousin - said their former Alpha was replaced by his son within the last year."

"There you go. New leadership, new direction. Have you called Scott?"

"Not yet. He has his last final tomorrow. I think you and I should be there to get him home once he's done."

"You keeping that close of tabs on him that you know his test schedule?"

Derek watched the momentary discomfort cross Argent's face before he waved it off and started for the door. "We're on the road bright and early. Be ready."

And then he was gone, leaving Derek alone in a home he hadn't lived in for over a year now. He scooted himself off the stool and surveyed his surroundings. It'd be a couple of hours before the jet lag caught up with him. Time to get to work.

* English: I speak French also.

Compartmentalization had never been a natural talent of his, but he had learned how to develop the skill over the years. For the most part. He had to if he wanted to get through school and protect those around him.

Scott had closed his eyes the night before, but even when he had finally dozed off his dreams had been filled with the images of innocent people and the young Betas that had been left to their own urges. They had an Alpha out that seemed to care nothing for the destruction he left in his wake and Hunters that didn't stop to consider that there was a scared human being under the overwhelming instincts of a first full moon. After a relatively peaceful first semester at school, it really had been a matter of time before some bit of chaos broke through. He supposed he should just be thankful that it was falling during the break. Mostly.

His bio final stared up at him, the final page still half blank. He heard a shift and it drew his attention. A girl sat there, all nervous looks and rapid heartbeat. The teacher's assistant seemed entirely unaware, and why wouldn't she be in a class this size? As the clock ticked away their final minutes of the two hour test, there were plenty of nervous movements, but it was the guy sitting behind her that really stood out. His pencil was in his hand, but his focus was on her. Laser focus and Scott could practically feel the hatred seeping out. No one would try anything in front of so many witnesses. They were safe as long as…. Well, that wasn't good.

The girl stood, skipping steps down to the TA's desk. The guy behind her stood as well, his movements more controlled. This was happening now and if Scott didn't do something then this girl was going to end up like all the rest. He scribbled quick answers in and followed, fumbling for his phone and texting as he sped up behind the pair.

The phone buzzed and buzzed and buzzed, finally drawing Stiles out of his trance. He blinked, realizing it had probably been longer than it should have since he'd last done that, and dove into the pile of papers covering his phone. There were… that couldn't be right. Seven missed texts from Scott? He blinked harder and pulled them up.

Jiv.

Mpe.

Now.

Cemyer.

Center.

Community Center.

It's happening.

He was texting without looking again. Cool. Got it. Finally. Not that it hadn't…. Oh! It was happening now now!

Stiles leapt to his feet and was out the door and down the hallway of the dorm in a flash. He turned down the hall and almost immediately backpedalled to go down the opposite hall towards the stairs, busting through the exterior door into the morning light a moment later only to realize he had no clue where the Community Center was.

He turned, fully intent on finding and grabbing one of the last students left on campus, but the sound of his name pulled his attention to the road where a black SUV was idling. The passenger window was down and Stiles' eyes widened a fraction as his sleep deprived mind registered that it had been none other than Derek Hale that had barked his name.

"Get in, idiot," the Werewolf growled, starling Stiles out of his surprise and he scurried to hop in behind him, finding Chris Argent in the driver's seat.

"How's you guys know?"

"I've been tracking the pack's movements. Scott knows then?"

"Yeah. He said there's something going down at the Student Center. Not sure —" Argent threw the vehicle into drive and hit the gas. "Okay. Guess you do."

Derek turned in his seat. "Exactly what does Scott know?"

"We've been tracking some Alpha moving down the West Coast and leaving a string of Betas behind. Shocker, Monroe's people have been hunting them. That woman is crazy."

"Why would the DeBois Alpha be turning and abandoning Betas?" Argent asked.

Stiles opened his mouth to answer, but Derek beat him to it. Yeah. The question was probably directed at him. Made sense.

"Drawing Scott out? It's not like he keeps his need to rescue everyone under wraps very well."

"Maybe," Argent murmured. "We're missing something."

"Yeah. Scott!" Stiles shouted, spotting his best friend who appeared to be on the heels of a student that was stalking another student.

Argent pulled the vehicle over and piled out, Stiles and Derek following from the other side of the car. Scott caught up to the guy who was reaching for the terrified girl and Scott caught him by the arm, jerking him back and away from her. They were too far away for Stiles to hear what the other student was saying, but it couldn't have been good with the way he was smirking.

All at once Scott, Derek, and the new Beta doubled over, hands against their ears and the amateur Hunter's smile broadened.

"Sonic emitters," Argent explained as he started towards Scott and the student.

Stiles risked a look at Derek who was still grimacing from the sound, but had straightened at least, his eyes fading from the icy blue back to his usual green-blue. "The girl. They're trying to direct her," he managed.

"And it's working," Stiles breathed and watched as she took off towards the road. He could almost see it playing out before it did. A truck speeding along too fast for the area, a terrified girl running for her life that no one else knew was in danger, and the impact.

Tires screeched, but later than they should have. The girl went flying and the driver was out instantly. Stiles saw the driver bend down to the girl lying prone in the street as if he were checking on her. She didn't move and he shouted for someone to call 9-1-1.

"What's in his hand?" Derek demanded, but didn't move. It looked like Argent was keeping Scott back too, that quietly threatening look fixed on the wannabe Hunter.

Stiles saw the driver slip something in his pocket, but he couldn't tell what. His gaze swept the growing crowd, hair on the back of his neck standing up in a warning that this wasn't done. He knew it wasn't done. Something was…. There. In the crowd. A young man, maybe a year or two older than Derek, stood and watched with the others. It was his eyes though, as he looked to where Scott was approaching them. "You see him?" Stiles managed.

"The Alpha," Scott confirmed and there was no mistaking the flash of red eyes before the man turned, disappearing into the crowd.

TBC

Notes: Well, I've been putting this off for a while, but after a very rough couple of weeks I needed a distraction, and apparently that means writing 10K worth of fic within about 24 hours lol The plan is to update once a week as long as life doesn't get too hectic and keep me from writing. I hope you enjoy. Feel free to drop me a line and let me know :)

Next Time: Argent makes a power move against the young Hunters, Braeden swings through Boston to pick up Lydia, and the team receives some startling news that changes what they thought they knew about the Alpha's end goal.