Carlisle stood in the clearing, watching the two humans writhing, howling and crying in pain as their body lengthened and hardened. They transformed right in front of his eyes and he stood frozen to the spot with a mind-numbing intrigue.
He heard each joint twist and turn in its place, readjusting as the bones in between them lengthened. They were almost thrown forward, their head jerking as if in a sneeze. He heard their skulls pull apart and reform. The men took on mangled, hairy, humanoid forms and howled out to the moon above.
Carlisle thought back to what he had spent the past two days doing.
Praying, certainly.
His family had spent a considerable amount of time training.
And planning. Lord knows just how much time he, his family and his allies had spent planning. Every possibilities, every attack pattern. They had thought over it. And they had a plan in place for it.
And yet, he knew every single thing had been futile.
He hadn't asked the Lord for protection against werewolves!
His family, even the battle-hardened Jasper or eager-to-fight Emmett, did not have any experience fighting the Children of the Moon.
For all their plans of thwarting the two vampires and the wolf-pack, they never considered the possibility of engaging with creatures more threatening than all others combined.
His mind flashed back to the conversation he had with Aro one bright winter afternoon in Italy, centuries ago. Sitting in his private study as they discussed the few creatures of the world that could stand their own against vampires. A proud man that he was, Aro took his sweet time bragging the effort it took to bring down even one werewolf while his guards nearly ran them down into extinction.
With a mighty snarl that brought Carlisle back to the night-time mayhem in which he stood, Jacob phased back into a human. From a mammoth of a creature into a naked boy struggling to put his shorts on without compromising his dignity or turning his back to the enemies.
"Smart child," Arthur commented off-handedly and Jacob let out a string of profanities at him.
He was frustrated indeed, visibly shaking from the strain of staying in his human form while surrounded by danger. But he knew, just as Carlisle knew, if he turned into his wolf form, he would do more harm than good.
Carlisle's eyes returned to the humans. Or who they had mistaken as humans. Their clothes in tatters, the Children of the Moon, the true werewolves were still orienting themselves to their new, humanoid forms.
He thought back to what precious little he knew about their kind. He knew a truly strong werewolf could tear down an entire coven of vampires, albeit he would say his family surpassed the usual definition of a coven. They were bigger than any ordinary coven. But they were also up against two werewolves. Their allies were rendered useless as he saw other members of Jacob's pack hurriedly phase into humans too. The younger wolves were starting to recover. It would still be a while. A couple of hours to be dangerous by themselves once again. A few minutes to be a deadly distraction.
He remembered it being written in one of the books on the table before him. Almost as a footnote. Children of the moon held a sway over wolves. Even as humans, they could control their animal brethren. Under the full moon, their control grew even stronger. Werewolves did not move in packs. But they had been known to unleash wild wolf packs on the human villages they attacked before making an appearance themselves.
A minor, almost ignorable fact for their kind. Wild wolves were no danger to vampires. They could be swatted away.
Turns out this particular power became exponentially more dangerous when werewolves were brought in the vicinity of significantly stronger, Quileute wolves.
"Pull their heart out," he called, his voice far too even for the terror he was feeling. He stepped back, away from the vehicles and its former occupants. "And burn it."
A gross over-simplification.
Carlisle reeled back when the night air shook with a mighty roar. The formerly short man in the pink top pulled himself to his full height towering over Carlisle, over Arthur, looming higher than even the tallest of the Quileute boys. He extended his head out towards the moon and howled. The deafening volume was amplified as every single wolf, uninjured or injured, from the third pack or Sam's pack, echoed out the call.
The patriarch looked at the creature's chest. The fur thinned out over the ventral side and gave way to hard, gray plate that covered the creature's torso. Almost like an armor. Pull their heart out. A gross over-simplification indeed.
His ears still rang with the sting of the cacophony of his surroundings. But the air abruptly stilled with silence, the howls cut off almost as if on an undeniable command. The werewolf turned towards him. All wolves turned towards him.
"Run!"
Jasper's command was exactly what he was planning to do. It was the only thing he could do. So, for the second time in a pathetically short amount of time, Carlisle found himself running. The two werewolves charged at him and he bolted sideways, deeper into the forest without moving towards the house. The three uninjured wolves from Sam's pack followed. A few grunts, screams and pained yowls hinted that the now-human boys were ensuring the younger pack wouldn't join the hunt.
With two bounds, Carlisle was once again among the trees, hopping from branch to branch quickly. The werewolves were stronger than Sam. It took them just a single impact to bring the tree tearing down.
Carlisle looked over his shoulder, at his pursuers and made his feet go faster. The humanoid shapes made him feel a lot less secure in the trees as well. He moved in an arc, not straying too far deep into the forest. He knew whatever help came, it would come to the house.
An angry growl. A painful cry. Archaic swear words.
All fading into the distance behind him as Carlisle clamored through the forest. It was perhaps the fastest he had ran. And yet, he knew he would not have been able to catch any prey. Branches snapped and gave way before him, splinters flying in his wake. The creatures of the forest were still. The natural sounds silenced. Not even a cicada chirped. Not even an insect buzzed.
No, tonight, the forest was reigned over by creatures far too dangerous. Tonight, the predators played and only time would tell who would be the hunter and who would be the quarry.
He looked back again. The werewolves had closed in, growling, almost playfully when he locked eyes with them. A branch shattered against Carlisle's face and he kept moving. The other wolves…seemed less in number. A flash of golden and he heard a Quileute wolf howl out and Jasper cursed.
He allowed himself a fleeting smile. A second to be hopeful. And then, reality came careening down on him.
The truth was, with two werewolves added to their ever growing list of enemies tonight, and the entirety of Jacob's pack out of action, they were going to lose. The most he could do was lead the threat away from his family. Away from their guests. Perhaps farther away enough from Jacob that the boy and his friends could phase and protect their injured brothers.
His feet changed directions and he ran. Farther east. Away from the house. Away from the direction Renesmee would take if she had to make an escape.
The change slowed him though, and a claw found its way to his flank.
Carlisle's vision went white and the scream that escaped his throat rang through the night air. He missed his footing and came crashing down onto the ground, the big brute upon him before he the air even fully left his lungs.
His side burned up, each claw mark branded upon him with fires of doom. He only had enough sense to roll out of the way as the claw came tearing down for his throat. The ground right beside his head cracked and the hot air blew into his face. He kicked out with his leg, catching the werewolf in the knee. But it only angered him.
Carlisle's already injured shoulder was pinned down and the beast roared, his gaping jaw barely an inch away from his face. He pressed his lips shut and twisted his face to the side. Thick, mucoid saliva fell down onto his face, agonizing over his diamond-hard skin wherever it touched.
He kept his eyes shut and pushed against the attacker's throat, using all the strength he had to keep the snapping teeth away from him. Perhaps it was the relative position. Perhaps the beast was significantly stronger than Sam. His arms shook with the strain of keeping the brute from snapping his face off. He flexed his hip and knee, bringing both his legs up against chest.
I can do all this through Him who gives me strength.
With that short prayer, he kicked out. Hard. Against the werewolf's plated chest. Carlisle's leg protested the effort he applied but the beast was lifted away. A meager few inches at best, but it was enough for him to roll out and land back on his feet. While the werewolf staggered a little, Carlisle took advantage of its hunched over posture and attacked his back. He had no hopes of landing a spine shattering injury but perhaps he could give it a pause. He ran towards the tree, running up the trunk a little as he leveraged his body and vaulted up in the air. He went up in an arch over the wolf's head and landed solidly on its back.
He kicked out into the spine with his foot and grabbed hold of its shaggy head to pull it back, using its body to increase the unnatural curvature he was hoping to create. The wolf howled in pain but otherwise remained unaffected by it. Bending a little low, Carlisle leaned towards its throat. The thick fur got in the way, irritating the already smarting skin over his face. He pushed through that and sank his teeth into the beast. The fur, skin and muscle tasted disgusting. The feel of it all in his mouth almost made him gag. But he kept his teeth in place as the creature shrieked out in agony and thrashed around in an effort to get Carlisle off his back. The movement dislodged his teeth and his mouth flooded with the pungent liquid that was this creature's blood.
That became too much for him and he gagged out, pulling away and spitting it all out. The blood left an aftertaste of bleach in his mouth.
Carlisle was slammed against a tree, once again shattering the thing with the impact. He was crushed between the tree and the werewolf. Just for a moment before the tree gave way entirely and Carlisle found his escape.
The wolf was hunched up, limping a little and twisting his head as if trying to get rid of a stiff neck. Carlisle's shoulder and flank drained his strength too, the pain in his face a scorching distraction. He dared not take his eyes off the danger in front of him, but to the distance, he could hear the other werewolf and the wolves in a fight too.
The werewolf before him took another moment to right itself, yelping a little as it tried to straighten out. Then he fell to all four and started walking to the side. Stalking. Circling.
Carlisle thanked the Lord that werewolves were not naturally pack creatures. If these two were controlling the packs, they were relying entirely on the pack's own fighting styles, or letting the Alphas take command. Perhaps that was the reason why his family had lasted as long as they did. If these creatures picked up tips from Sam and his pack on how to fight together, they were doomed.
He risked a look around. He could not move east anymore. The werewolf stood in his way. He could pick another direction perhaps. He just had to keep the north clear for Renesmee. And not go west either. La Push had already dealt with enough.
The beast lunged at him and Carlisle darted to the side. Too late though. Sharp claws raked its way down his thighs and a feral scream escaped his throat. His eyes stung and the air left his lungs. He managed to catch himself on a low branch and staggered away, avoiding getting pinned completely. Each movement was agonizing and he could hardly do anything other than limp. Hobble a few steps. He gritted his teeth, pushing his pain to the back of his mind. He would have time for it all later.
He used the branch to hold himself up and faced his opponent again, not risking turning his back just yet. He wasn't sure how fast he could run. He had to inflict some sort of injury that would slow the creature down. So far, all he had done was annoy him.
The werewolf growled again, crouching and Carlisle braced himself.
With a hiss, it jumped.
Carlisle ducked away but it was unnecessary. The werewolf's trajectory was interrupted as a massive figure collided into it and the two rolled away a feet to his right. His eyes flashed up to meet the figure that darted out of the way of the werewolf's claws and stood just out of its range.
"Emmett!" Carlisle cried out, his voice shaking with relief.
Before the wolf could lunge at his son Carlisle attacked, grabbing its arm and twisting it back. The wolf spun into the twist to turn in Carlisle's direction but his movement was stopped when Emmett large hands stopped it from turning further, pulling the beast downward and in the opposite direction.
Carlisle's shoulder did not have much strength but he used all that was left to pull the werewolf to the ground, without letting it snap his hands off. With his and Emmett's combined strength, they managed to bring the creature into a reverse plank of sort. Bent backwards at the knee while he tried to use his core strength to avoid letting his shoulders touch the ground.
A flash of wind passed behind him.
"Clear out," a warning sounded and Carlisle pulled as far away from the werewolf as he could without letting go of its arm. Emmett did the same on the other side.
With a gust of wind and a deafening thunder, Edward dropped down on to the creature, his speed and the height of his drop adding to his son's strength. His foot collided sharply with the werewolf's chest and a longitudinal crack appeared in its natural armored plate.
Edward bounded away.
Carlisle's eyes remained fixed at the crack. It was not long. Barely a few inches.
There was still a lot of fight left. But this? This was certainly a start.
His children were back! Emmett, Edward and Bella were back! Bella could liberate the wolves from their mind control. Now their only enemies would be the werewolves and the two vampires.
He allowed himself to hope.
He saw Emmett grin. And even in the midst of their fight, he was helpless to return his child's smile.
And the very next second, the smile was slapped off his face. A scream rang out through the night. Terrified. Agonized. And achingly familiar.
Esme!
"Go!" Emmett commanded. "We've got this one!"
Carlisle staggered a step back. The next step, he was flying through the forest. The pain was forgotten. The fear was forgotten. He was an expert archer's arrow, hurtling towards the bullseye that was his wife.
In the few seconds that his wife had been screaming, Carlisle was certain there could be no worse sound in the world. Nothing could be worse than hearing your wife's scream.
Yet again, Carlisle was proved wrong. And he heard something even worse than his wife screaming.
He heard that scream silence out.
A/N:
Bear with me while I squeal out in delight! This story crossed a hundred reviews! I can't thank you all enough for the time you took to leave me such amazing feedback. I read them so often and it can never be too much.
So many of you have pointed out things the wolves, Arthur, or the Cullens could have done to improve their odds. And I will apologize on behalf of the characters and say, they are only as smart as the author of this fic is, which isn't a lot tbh. I will continue to fill out any plot hole that you all so helpfully point out. I am extremely grateful for it too!
I will also take this time to recommend two wonderful stories that I read in the past couple of days.
1. Good-Bye From Ghosts of the Past by BookGirl812: Charlie Swan is old and at the end of his life when he receives a visit from someone he'd thought long gone. Canon divergent O/S.
2. Bella and Edward at Angela's Wedding by Ptool It's pretty self-explanatory.
Both these story made me cry. They are both wonderful ideas that have been brilliantly executed and they deserve a huge shout-out!
In the end, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I would love to hear what you have to say about it!
-ZQ