Chapter Ten

He should never have come. He should have hopped the flight to Rome with Malia and let his reckless, stupid nephew deal with the DeBois Pack on his own. He would have gotten what he deserved for trusting his father without any reason outside that he wanted to, but no. Peter had lied to his daughter so she wouldn't follow him, chartered a jet, and flown back to California. And what had he gotten for it? That's right. Attacked by Tobias Hale - couldn't just one person stay dead? - kicked out of Derek's loft, and thrown headlong into a fight alongside Chris Argent of all people. Yep. He should have stayed in Europe. Indefinitely.

The problem was that Peter had never been great at doing what he was supposed to do. Or maybe he'd gotten better at it, because as much as he complained about it - and Argent had popped off just a few minutes before that the next words out of his mouth would earn him a bullet - he knew that if Derek got himself killed, Peter would never be able to forgive himself. He could still remember the sinking feeling in Mexico that had bordered on regret when he had seen him bleeding out and, in that rare moment for people like them, he had thought it was the end for him. The end that he could have stopped simply by not having teamed up with the psycho that had sent her Berzerker after him. Peter didn't want to find out if time and change could amplify the feeling he found himself in a similar situation where all he would have had to do was choose a different path.

"The Vault's the best way in," Scott said from the front passenger seat, shaking Peter out of his thoughts. He'd hoped that, if nothing else, Derek would have brought the teen Alpha with him to go rescue his girlfriend, but he'd sent the kid to them. He'd been helpful to wrap things up and they'd been able to hand the situation over to the Sheriff as soon as he'd arrived, but now they were racing against the clock to make sure Derek didn't find himself facing down Anton alone. Clearly he hadn't inherited the strategic approach from the Hale side of his genes.

Argent whipped the SUV around, pulling it to the entrance and two Werewolves and a Hunter piled out, Peter stopping as he rounded the front of the vehicle to look at the entrance.

"Peter," Argent snapped, but Peter motioned towards the door instead of hurrying his way over.

"You see that?"

Argent squinted, but Scott loosed a short breath. "Someone cut the chains around the door."

"Anton wouldn't have left the main entrance open," Argent murmured.

"And Derek would have used the Vault," Peter agreed, feeling the unease that hadn't quite left him since he'd found out what kind of mess his nephew had managed to mix himself up in claw at the inside of his rib cage.

The sound of concrete scraping across concrete drew both of their attentions over and Scott stood at the entrance that was appearing, claws out from unlocking it. "We should go."

They moved fast, reaching the hallway by the time a shot echoed out.

"I had him!" Derek. Well, looked like he was still alive. That had to be a good sign.

"I know."

Peter didn't recognize the second voice, but Argent seemed to, and when a second shot rang out he took the lead, his boots surprisingly quiet for as fast as he moved. He slammed to a stop at the end of the hallway and leveled his gun. "Lucien!"

A man - a Human - turned towards him, his gun aimed at Derek's prone form. Braeden was a few feet away, her expression pained and she gripped her arm as if it were injured. Several of the DeBois Pack were laid out against the linoleum floors of the hallway, the one Peter hated the most making his way to his knees with a low growl. Tobias' icy blue gaze wasn't fixed on them, though, but on the Human. Lucien. Peter felt like he must be missing a piece to this increasingly complicated puzzle.

"Lucien," Argent warned again, his voice low and dangerous as he adjusted his grip on his gun, finger hovering over the trigger.

"Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent, Cousine."*

"We never hunted you," Tobias snapped from his place, finally getting a foot under him and for the first time since they'd arrived, Peter clocked the deep wounds that someone had left on him. Slow healing. An Alpha.

"No," Lucien directed, his gun never wavering from Derek who was finally starting to stir. "This ends."

"He's not your enemy," Argent said firmly. "Lucien, please."

"You've grown soft here. Or perhaps everything that you've lost has finally broken you, but he took the Alpha's life. If this one dies as well, they scatter."

"Derek's not Anton."

"They are all Anton, given enough time. If you want to stop me, Cousin, you must shoot me, and I don't believe your loyalties are that -"

The shot rang out and the man that Peter could only assume was a member of Argent's family fell dead to the school hallway floor to join the rest of the Wolves that either he or the others had killed. Silence hung in the aftermath, making the breath that Argent let escape even louder than it might have been otherwise. Derek was coming around where he was and Braeden was making her way over to him.

Peter turned back to the Hunter, taking in his fallen expression and the way he looked like the last bit of energy had been snuffed out of him with the shot. His shoulders sagged, his chin dropped, but he met his eyes. "What?"

"Nothing."

Argent snorted. "A bloodline doesn't make loyalties. It's the people you choose that are your family, blood-ties or not."

Peter glanced back to find Braeden on one side of his nephew and Tobias on the other. He was coming to, but even as he was, Peter couldn't bring himself to move. Instead he stood back, soaking in Argent's words and letting them batter around his mind as he tried to fit them into place between all the chaos they'd lived through and all the pain they'd suffered.

And then suddenly it didn't matter. Or, at least, it was outweighed by the right then, and the right then showed Derek reaching up a shaky hand for his father. Tobias had been on the right side of things, and if Derek had been right or wrong to trust that he was wasn't the point. The end was the point. Anton was dead and the Hales had lived. That was the only point that mattered.

*English: We hunt those that hunt us, Cousin.

If there was one thing that remained constant, it was that everything changed. Sometimes it was for the better. New friends, lessons learned, and growth that constantly propelled them forward. Other times it was brutal. People left, homes were destroyed. This time of year was hard, and sometimes they got harder each passing year. Scott had thought they'd all get together over Christmas break and take a breather, but he really should have known better.

The Stilinski household was in full swing for all of the last minute Christmas celebrations that had originally been planned for the McCall house. The same house that had been leveled by the Werewolves that had shown up out of nowhere to lure Derek Hale either to their pack or to his death. There was definitely a sense of relief that the latter hadn't happened, but by killing Anton, Scott wasn't sure the first was actually off the table. He didn't know what it meant and it wasn't like Derek was opening up to him or anyone else about it. He'd kept his distance the last couple of days. Maybe he thought he was giving them space, or maybe he needed space to make his decision.

"You know we already have one sour wolf, right?" Stiles' voice drew Scott's attention and he found his best friend offering him a wide, goofy grin from where he stood. "I don't think Derek's giving up his mantle any time soon."

Scott tilted his head to the side a little. "You think he's staying?"

"As much as he usually does, I guess? Why would he go?"

"You know why."

Stiles took a few steps over to the couch that Scott was slouched on and fell over the arm so that he was laid out long-ways, knees hooked over the arm. "So it's for sure?"

"I don't know."

"He hasn't told you?"

"I figure that means he's going, right?"

"Or it means he didn't inherit crazy-cousin's powers and he's still a Beta, in which case nothing changes and there's no reason for him to bring it up, right?" Scott shot his best friend a tired look and quirked an eyebrow at him in response before he swung his legs over to sit cross-legged on the couch. "And even if he did, what's it really change, though? He's in and out anyway."

"But we can always count on him to come back when we need him."

"You think he wouldn't?"

"I think if he has his own pack, they'll be a priority."

"I wouldn't count him out just yet."

Stiles jumped at the sound of Chris Argent's voice so that he fell halfway off the couch. "Warning! Not everyone's got Wolf hearing around here!"

"I didn't hear him," Scott countered, his gaze flickering over. "You really think Derek's staying?"

"I think Derek's a Hale before he's anything else, and Hales protect Beacon Hills."

Scott let the words swirl around in his mind for a moment, uncertain if he was ready to believe him or not. There was more than one way to lose someone.

"Listen, I know a lot has changed…" Argent began and Scott cringed.

"If you're trying to talk about that change, you really don't have to."

In a quick movement Stiles popped to his feet and looked around towards the kitchen where the only sound was the occasional clanging of a pot or pan. "What's that, Dad? You need my help? Sorry, guys," he offered as he scurried off the couch and towards the hall.

Argent lifted an eyebrow, but shook his head as if he weren't going to touch that one. Instead he turned back to Scott. "We're good?"

"I mean, you didn't exactly ask before, but… She's happy, so we're good. Just please, I don't ever want to hear about any of it."

"Fair enough."

The loud crashing sound, Stiles' yelp of surprise, and Noah Stilinski shouting drew both of their attentions to the kitchen where Scott's best friend was already being kicked out from his hiding spot and the teenage Alpha felt the first real smile tug at him since everything had happened. Things had changed, but a lot was the same. They were all there, alive and together for Christmas. Chaos was always going to come their way, but for now, he wanted to hang onto what they had.

It had been a while since he'd stepped foot into the Stilinski household, and rarely by invitation. Instead of showing up to hide out or tracking down a member of the pack that had been possessed by a Kitsune, he'd been asked to bring a dish. Apparently a pot luck was considered normal, not that any of them were normal. There was proof enough in the fact that he'd timed a few old Hale Christmas recipes entirely by smell or that they were changing the location that they were gathering at because the McCall house had been reduced to a slab of concrete. It was in the fact that his father - supposedly dead for a decade now, yet very much alive - had thought he had gotten one over on his son the last couple of days when he was meeting with the Hunter that he'd been convinced had been just as responsible for their family's deaths until he'd saved Derek's life, or that his uncle's best acknowledgement that he'd been wrong to misjudge Tobias Hale had come by way of him hopping a plane back to Europe.

They were complicated. They were a mess. And Derek couldn't have it any other way.

"Have you talked to him yet?"

He glanced at Braeden from the driver's seat as he killed the engine of the rented sports car. "Who?"

"Take your pick."

Derek huffed a short laugh, pushing the door open and unfolding out of the low car. He circled around so that he could reach for the bag of food and offer Braeden a hand out before she could do it all herself. She shot him a withering look, handing him the bag as if that was the compromise she was willing to take and inched herself out, careful of her right arm still in the sling, cursing under her breath the whole way.

"That doesn't look like taking it easy."

Her eyes narrowed a little as she finally straightened. "Just because I don't heal as fast as you doesn't mean you have to coddle me."

"No coddling from me."

"Bullshit."

"Hey, I just grabbed the food," he offered with a toothy grin and the woman he loved rolled her eyes.

"You didn't answer my question."

Derek loosed a breath, running through his mental catalogue of all the needed conversations that he'd put off since Anton's death a few days before. Scott, Chris, his father….. "No."

"To all of them?"

"Excuse me for getting shot."

"It took you a couple hours to heal, and that was only because it was laced with Wolfsbane."

"Pretty sure Peter revelled a little too much in that."

"Your uncle," she pointed out with a quirked smirk. He started past her towards the front door, but felt her reach out and snag his jacket sleeve. "Derek, he deserves to know."

"Who's that?"

"Take your pick." Her expression softened and she tightened her hold. "No matter which one, you're family. It won't change anything."

"It's more complicated now."

"When has it not been?"

"Okay, yeah," he breathed and turned, leaning down to catch her in a quick kiss. "I love you. You know that, right?"

"I do, but the moment we walk through that door I'm getting a glass of wine and you're on your own."

A rough chuckle escaped.

"Or before." She reached over, grabbing the bag of food and nodding past him towards the porch. His father stood there with what looked like a cup of coffee in his hand. "Good luck."

Derek loosed a low, irritable growl as she started towards the house, leaving him on his own with the clear signal that it was time for a chat. Well, had to start somewhere, he supposed, even if he wasn't ready. They'd gotten along so well. He'd proven he could be trusted to choose his son over the family that had offered him revenge and now Derek had to choose to trust him again. Trust wasn't his forte. "Where's Chris? You two have been scheming a lot lately." he offered as an opener.

Tobias snorted, taking a sip from his coffee mug. "Scheming's a bit much. He knew I helped build the back add-on to our house and wanted to pick my brain over what it'd take to rebuild the McCall house." He paused, his jaw clenched a little and his grip a little tighter around the mug. "I guess you were right. Seems to be trustworthy after all."

"Tried to tell you."

Tobias shook his head, his expression strained. "I'm sorry."

"Took me a while to trust him too. For us to trust each other, really."

"I don't mean Chris Argent." He pulled in a deep breath and Derek waited until he finally looked him in the eye. "I should have come back after the fire. If I hadn't taken hearsay, if I'd looked -"

"What happened happened. There's no changing it."

"But I was wrong," his father said firmly. "I can't… I can't tell Laura how sorry I am, and I don't expect you to forgive me easily, but I want to try to earn forgiveness. I want to -"

Derek snapped forward without warning, his fingers wrapping into the fabric of Tobias' jacket as he dragged his father in, the older Hale wrapping his arms around him to pull him in as well. They stood there for a moment, years of hurt and pain and regret not gone, but acknowledged. Acknowledged and forgiven. Derek managed a shuddering breath, but didn't dare release him and have to look him in the eye as he whispered a piece of knowledge he'd kept from him. "Cora's alive."

Tobias pulled back sharply at the words, his hazel eyes wide and sharply focused. "Alive?"

"She got out and ran. Across the border into Mexico and made her way down to South America. Found a pack and everything."

"How do you know?"

"She came looking for me a couple years ago. I know you think I should have told you, and maybe I didn't have a right to keep it from you, but -"

"Is she happy?"

The question cut him off, and it took him half a beat longer than it should have to find his way to a place where he could answer. "Yeah. Dating an idiot, but happy." The smallest of smiles touched Tobias' lips and Derek cleared his throat. "We should go. I owe her a visit anyway."

His father flashed him a bright smile as the patio door opened behind them and Melissa McCall stuck her head out. "Food's ready, and I don't think there's any convincing that group in there to wait."

Tobias motioned for the door and Derek followed Melissa in, the smell of Christmas dinner slamming into him as he entered the house.

Dinner would have been seen as anything but peaceful from someone looking in from the outside with the way their pack went at it, but after everything that they'd been through since Anton DeBois had come to town, it was their kind of peace. A little chaotic, a little messy, but theirs, and there was something comforting in it. They chattered and ate, laughed and teased. It was comfortable. Right. For the first time in ten years, Derek actually felt grateful for the time of year. He felt like he could finally take a breath.

Or would, but he had one more piece to put into place before he could consider this taken care of.

He stood and moved towards the hallway, motioning at Scott to follow, and the younger Wolf's mood fell almost instantly. By the time they moved around the crowd that was finishing up the last bites of the meal, Scott looked like he'd found the worst case possibility and chosen that as the most likely topic of conversation. "Listen, I think I know what you're going to say, and I get it."

"Exactly what do you think I'm going to say?"

"That you're leaving," Scott answered, the rushed answer leaving him without a breath between each word.

Derek quirked one dark eyebrow upward. "And where would I be going?"

"Paris. I get it. It's not perfect, but you can rebuild the Hale Pack that way and they'll be looking for you to take Anton's place and -"

"Scott, I'm not going to Paris."

The teen stopped, confusion replacing the stress. "Then… what? You're not an Alpha?"

Derek's lips curled up at one corner and he let his eyes flash crimson. "Lucien didn't get to take that from me."

"Then I don't get it. They're your family."

"No, they're my blood. This is my family."

Relief crept in, even if Derek could still see traces of confusion in his dark eyes. "So, what? Are you going to build a pack here or -?"

"Actually, I wanted to see if you'd be willing to help me with something." He waited until Scott gave him a small nod to continue and pulled in a steadying breath. "The DeBois pack is on their own. They're not my problem and, honestly, not my responsibility. The kids that Anton turned up and down the West Coast are though. I want to help them, but we both saw what happened the last time I tried to build a pack. I need help. Balance."

"You want to build it together? Two Alphas?"

"I do, if you're up for it."

He waited, watching the younger Werewolf turn the request over for a long moment before he closed his eyes and a rough laugh escaped him. "I was sure you were leaving."

"Were you wanting me to?" Derek asked carefully.

"No, definitely not."

"Then what do you say?"

The strain seemed to evaporate, uncertainty replaced by what looked like relief. "I think that's what we do. Yeah, absolutely we'll help them."

A shout from the living room indicated that they were ready to exchange gifts. The details could be worked out after they'd spent time with their pack. Derek hadn't had any way of knowing just how much trying to help the newly bitten Scott McCall would change his life when he had clumsily tried to take the kid under his wing a few years before, but there they were. Brothers. And while the name Hale didn't extend to every person in the pack, they were his family more than the DeBois pack ever could be. And as he joined Braeden on the couch, barely missing where Stiles was bouncing from one place to another with more energy than someone who had eaten as much as him had a right to have, he felt a sense of peace in the chaos. Whatever came next, they'd be stronger for what they'd endured, and they'd face it together.

END.

Notes: So... sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. There was a lot of rewriting and a lot of rearranging. But here it is! I hope you have all enjoyed the ride and the wrap up. I was on the fence for a long while on what ending I was going to land on with this, but realized that Derek getting his Alpha status back and choosing a better path was the best of all worlds. Take that, Lucien. You lose in every way :')

I hope everyone has a fantastic holiday season, however you celebrate it! Until next time.