Chapter Eight

Tension hung heavy in the air, Tobias and Peter Hale seated with half the loft and Derek between them, both bruised and bleeding and ready to jump back at each other's throats at a moment's notice. Scott looked to where Derek stood, mostly clothed now in his jeans and tank top, and the remnants of the already healing claw marks Peter had accidentally left along his back when he'd jumped between them peeked out from under the white material. The table had been overturned during the fight and blood was drying on the concrete floors. Funny, Scott had thought it was going to be the worry and the stress that kept him awake. He should have known better.

Peter pulled in a deep breath, his gaze hard and focused on Tobias Hale, even though his words were directed towards his nephew. "The DeBois pack on your doorstep and you just happened to forget to mention that your father popped up from the grave?"

"I thought you wanted to be left out of it," Derek sniped back and Peter finally turned to look at him.

There was a flash of hurt in his eyes. Brief, but discernible, and just as quickly it was gone again. "I would have preferred to stay out of it, but you dove right in, didn't you?"

"And Malia?" Scott asked, holding Peter's angry gaze without flinching. He didn't have any patience for his antics, but he would take the support, and Malia and Peter brought a lot of power with them. If a war was inevitable, they had to be ready.

Tobias perked at the name and his gaze snapped from Derek to Peter.

Peter sneered. "Yes, Tobias, I do know about my daughter. Don't think for a moment that I don't know you were whispering in Talia's ear the whole time. She-"

"Was an innocent child with two sociopaths for parents," Tobias snapped back. "Talia did what she did because she wanted to give the child a chance to survive. She knew what kind of person you are and what you would have done to that girl, even if she -"

"Enough!" Derek's snarl echoed through the open loft and his eyes flashed dangerously. "Enough. You-" he pointed at Tobias - "dropped back into my life as if we hadn't thought you were dead for the last decade and you -" Peter frowned a little as Derek's attention swung to him- "disappeared without warning when you were supposed to be here only to show back up and wreck my home."

Peter motioned dramatically at Tobias as if that were all the reason he needed.

Derek rolled his eyes. "You never liked him."

"I never trusted him," Peter corrected.

Tobias snorted. "You're one to talk."

Peter twitched a little at the statement that seemed to have roots further back that Scott had known any of them, and when he chose instead to turn to Scott, the younger Wolf steeled himself to sort between manipulation and truth as best as his exhausted mind could. "You think I've gone too far before? I'm a saint next to Derek's father's pack. They leave destruction in their path, cast out members of their own, and brutalize anyone who dares to cross into the vicinity. They tried to move into Hale territory when Talia's and my grandfather was a young Alpha. They thought they could wipe us out."

"And they lost," Tobias finished, his tone even, reminding Scott of his history professor he'd had this past semester in the way he spoke. The story was one he knew well and one that he had to tell, not that he found any particular joy in telling "To them, an embarrassment that shifted the line of Alphas to Anton's great- grandfather. He didn't just kill his cousin, he made a spectacle of it. I know who they are. I know what they've done. It's the reason I left when I was young and the reason I returned after the fire. Generations of Hales not only survived in Beacon Hills, but thrived. Until the Argents. No pack will take them on, but the DeBois had the power to have a chance to take them down. A necessary evil to topple a worse one." He turned, his gaze sharp and fixed on the his wife's brother. "How long were you trapped, Peter? You can't tell me you never wanted to make them pay."

"Oh, he went on his own killing spree. One that turned Kate Argent into a Werejaguar," Derek deadpanned.

"In my defense, that was unintentional."

"How about the fact that you helped her come after me a couple of years ago?" Scott added.

Peter shrugged. "No one's perfect." His smile faded a bit then, a more somber expression taking its place and his words rang a little closer to honest. "But if there's one thing you can count on. I am always loyal to the Hale family. Always."

Scott shot him a disbelieving look, the severed body of Laura Hale jumping to mind. "Always?"

"Enough," Braeden huffed from her place perched on the back of the sofa, bare feet against the cushions where most people would be sitting. The single word diffused the question that could and probably would have reignited the battle between Peter and Tobias. Scott didn't know if Derek had kept the details of his sister's death to himself to spare his uncle or simply to avoid one more event that would splinter them before they had all the facts. Scott felt a twinge of embarrassment that he'd nearly taken that choice away from his friend, and gratitude that Braeden had stopped him before he could. He turned a single, small nod acknowledging the fact and she squared her shoulders. "Derek?"

There was a long pause, the silence hanging heavy in the loft as Derek shifted his weight from one foot to another, finally raising his chin to address those waiting. "I trust him," he said quietly, sounding almost like he hated to admit it, and turned to meet Scott's eyes. "But it's ultimately your decision. I know —"

"If you trust him, then so do I," Scott answered firmly. He wasn't sure he believed it, but he was sure that he trusted Derek, and that's what he would hold onto. That had to be enough.

It was closer to morning than night by the time Derek convinced Peter that he'd be better off back at his own apartment. The older Hale had had plenty of time to sleep on the private jet he'd charted to whisk him back to the United States, but the rest of them hadn't been quite as fortunate. After he had left, it hadn't taken Scott - exhausted after the mess of emotions - long to start snoring lightly from the couch and Tobias settled himself down on a pallet. Every muscle in Derek's body felt taught with stress as Braeden's hand slid from his shoulder, down his arm, and captured his hand to pull him towards the bed. One look stopped the protest in his throat. He followed, bare feet quiet on the hard floor, and she pulled him down into the bed with her.

Slowly, his breath started to even out and from her place with her ear against his chest she heard his heartbeat start to slow in sleep. It was quiet. Almost peaceful in the pre-dawn hours, and Braeden knew they could be the last peaceful hours they had before shit really hit the fan. Because not even an exploding house was as bad as it got in Beacon Hills.

No matter how much she knew she needed it, she couldn't get herself to tip over that edge into sleep. Her breathing mirrored Derek's rhythm and she could feel her own pulse slow a little, but her mind wouldn't stop. With every inhale it conjured images of Derek laid out on Deaton's table and every exhale her friends - her family - laid out as the McCall house fell around them in first pieces. Anton had done this. He wanted Derek, and he'd do anything to get him. That much was clear. What wasn't was where Tobias fell in it all. Derek trusted him far enough to keep Peter from tearing him apart, but not enough to let his guard down. As much as she would have wanted him to be able to, it was safer that way. Trauma changed people, and Tobias had lived through a dangerous amount of it. Derek had had his sister to lean on, but his father had been driven to exile. A Human-born Wolf without a pack. An Omega without even the tools to defend himself, much less to fight back against the Hunters that had taken everything from him. Braeden knew well that desperate people did desperate things and often that ended up hurting the very people they sought to protect.

Sometimes she hated being right.

The movement was so quiet she almost missed it. Bare feet on wood floors and careful steps towards the door. A quick inventory proved that Derek was still deep in sleep next to her and Scott's snoring could still be heard from the couch. That left the third Wolf in the loft moving to make his exit. She waited patiently. Exhausted or not, surely the door opening would wake the sleeping Werewolves.

Or not.

It opened quietly and closed the same. As soon as the light disappeared Braeden untangled herself from her lover's arms carefully and rolled off the bed. Boots on, sweatshirt over her head as she moved, she barely had time to snag a gun with a full clip if she didn't want to lose him.

She followed him down the stairwell, staying out of Tobias' line of sight and watched him pull Derek's keys from his pocket. He was good. She hadn't seen him grab those. At least she knew what car to follow.

Without missing a beat Braeden slipped onto the street, a quick glance up and down showing no sane person was out at this hour, and she heard the engine from the garage. She worked quickly, deciding on an inconspicuous car to shatter the window out of and duck down to hotwire as Tobias pulled out of the parking structure. She followed, lights off and at a distance.

The cold, damp air kept her alert as she followed him through downtown, around back roads, and eventually up to the school. Interesting. The kids were out for break, meaning it was consistently deserted. A good place to hide if one needed to move quickly.

Braeden kept her distance even as she followed him inside, the familiar location giving her a small leg up in staying out of sight. She paused at the sound of voices speaking in French and she pressed her back against the wall behind her.

"Tobias, I was beginning to think your loyalties had shifted," Anton's voice filled the dark halls.

A low, frustrated growl met as a response. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Killing the pack was never part of the plan!" Tobias bit out.

"Plans change. You said he'd come amiably."

"I never said that. I said I could convince him. You didn't give me time."

"It wouldn't have mattered," Anton answered, his voice much lighter than Tobias'. "It had been too long."

"Whose fault was that?"

"You think mine? I owed you nothing. You abandoned us for the Hales. If I'd followed my father's advice, I would have killed you and been done with it. Instead I gave you the gift you asked for. Power to eliminate the Argents. Which you've still yet to do, even though one of them was there with you today."

"Derek —"

"Is a fool, but I will add him to our pack or listen to the last shuttering beats of his heart. The decision is yours."

Braeden steeled herself, a glance back the way she came showing a clear path, but the moment she looked back Anton was directly in front of her, a smile tilting his lips. "And you, it would seem," he said in English.

He was too close to level the gun. Even in the fraction of a second she had, she knew that much, so she fired the bullet into his pretty leather boot. He snarled and she ducked, his wild swipe missing her and she dropped, sweeping a leg out to take the angry Alpha off his feet. He fell and she popped up, but every exit was covered. Anton wasn't meeting Derek's father alone.

"Anton," Tobias pleaded, "he'll never join you if you kill her."

Anton was already back to his feet, though his eyes still glowed dangerously red. "No, but he'll come for her."

The rain fell outside of the hospital as nurses moved through the hallways, the sudden flurry of motion signalling the shift change. Chris had long since given up on the possibility of sleep, opting instead for a quiet and focused vigil that was helped by a steady flow of caffeine. A flow that seemed to have run dry, he realized as he picked up the empty paper cup next to his chair. He frowned at it, gaze sliding over to where Melissa slept soundly in the bed, and he eased himself silently to his feet.

A quick tap at the door next door drew Stiles from Lydia's room, blurry eyed but willing to stand watch until Chris made it back. That settled, he started towards the small nook that housed the coffee machine, a depleted tea box, and the snack and soda machine. The hall was mostly empty save a nurse that looked like he was coming off his twelve hour shift that Chris had to dodge and he hoped that there might be a chance that there was a fresh pot of coffee waiting for him after the rush of staff heading home. The coffee nook was in sight, but as he passed by the waiting area he made the mistake of glancing over when the front doors slid open. Instead of one of the hospital personnel coming in, he spotted a familiar, albeit not always welcome figure striding in.

Peter Hale's blue gaze instantly fixed on him. "I need a word."

"And I need coffee," Chris answered automatically and kept moving. He didn't have to look back to hear the Wolf that had once run him through with a piece of rebar fall into step behind him. He made a beeline for the nook and counted the small blessings as he was hit with the smell of fresh - albeit cheap - coffee. He poured himself a cup. "Nice of you to finally show up to the party."

"Oh no. This is not my fault. This is —"

"You blame Derek for this and I'm going to forget we're supposed to be on the same side these days."

The thinly veiled threat caused Peter to straighten a bit more, a look that was half irritation, half disgust playing across his features. "I was going to say Tobias, but seeing as Derek's protecting him…."

Chris could feel the way Peter was studying him, looking for any sign of what he knew. He refused to give it as he took a long sip of his coffee. "And what do you know about Tobias?"

"That it's his family - his Alpha, apparently - coming after you. And make no mistake, Argent. Anton DeBois will come after you."

The burning McCall home and Melissa laid out in the hospital bed leapt to mind and Chris took a long, steadying sip of scalding hot coffee. "I'm well aware."

"Then why the hell are you standing by while Derek risks it all by trusting a man whose loyalties more likely lie with the DeBois Pack rather than the Hale?" Peter snarled, drawing Chris' gaze.

"What?"

The younger man waved dismissively. "McCall Pack. Whatever they want to call themselves."

"What do you mean Derek's risking it all?"

"Trusting him. Without any reason." Peter stared at him for a long moment and Chris forced himself to let the Werewolf speak first. He was clearly fishing for some piece of knowledge, but if he actually had any of his own or was just making a leap to make it look like he did was still up for debate.

Slowly, realization settled into Peter's expression. "You don't know."

"Why don't you share?"

"And if I do? He won't listen to me, but he trusts you."

"If you do, I'll do what I think is right. If Derek's in trouble —"

"Tobias is at the loft."

Chris pulled in a deep breath as he felt the anger boiling inside, fumbling with one hand for his cell phone tucked away in his jeans pocket. The situation with Tobias Hale was fluid, but they had to be on the same page. Taking him back to the loft without backup could be the best answer, or they could already be under attack.

"Are you —?"

The Hunter held up one finger and punched Derek's name on the speed dial.

He could hear the buzzing somewhere beyond the surface of consciousness. Steady, repetitive, but distant enough that it was easily pushed adie. The pillow hurled from the couch wasn't. It hit Derek's head and he heard Scott grumble from the couch as he turned his back to him, the buzzing continuing. Derek blinked and groped for his phone at the bedside table. "What?"

"Something you want to tell me?" Chris Argent snapped from the other end of the line.

Derek blinked hard, forcing his tired mind to focus. "You seem to have something in mind, so why don't you tell me?"

"Your father."

"What about him?"

"Are we playing this game?"

Irritation overtook exhaustion and Derek sat up in bed, elbows propped against bent knees as he spoke in hushed tones to keep from waking Braeden. "Listen, Chris, I know you think…" He stopped, his gaze sliding to the empty bed next to him. His brows drew together and his eyes darted to the bathroom door - open, dark on the other side - then upstairs - also dark - and then finally swept past his father's pallet - also empty. "Shit."

"What?"

"He's gone, and so is Braeden." He tossed the pillow back at Scott, hitting him in the back of the head. "Get up."

"Derek? Derek!" Chris shouted from the other end of the line. "Listen to me."

"Yeah?"

"What made you trust him?"

"I get you don't like the fact I didn't tell you, but right now —"

"Answer the question."

"I don't," Derek huffed. "Nostalgia?"

"Try again."

He pushed a frustrated breath out from his nose, his father's hazel eyes and worn expression flickering across his memory. He hadn't had a good reason. In fact, everything that Tobias had said could have been explained away, but there was just… "Instinct," he breathed.

"Okay. I trust your instincts," Chris answered with less hesitation than Derek wanted to give himself.

"Derek!" Scott hissed, finally awake enough to realize that they were down a Hale in the loft.

Derek unfolded himself from the bed, putting the cell on speaker so they could come to a consensus, but a loud howl climbed up through the early morning air, shaking the foundations of the apartment building like an earthquake. He looked to Scott who seemed to understand exactly what they'd heard.

"What the hell was that?" Chris demanded from the other end of the line and Derek felt like he was dragging ice down into his lungs as he inhaled.

"A call to war."

TBC

Notes: Hey, all! Sorry for the delay in this chapter. I did quite a bit of editing on it to build some scenes out a bit more. Between that and life just being a little crazy, it took longer than usual to get it up. We're in the final stretch and I have to ask: how do you lovely people feel about Tobias? Trust him? Distrust him? Some combination thereof? Let me know :D

Next Time: Braeden fights for her life, Stiles finds himself in a dangerous spot, and Derek takes on Anton.