Hiya wolflets, and thanks for the response to the first chapter. Since I've finished writing this already I figured I may as well update fairly regularly, so until further notice I'll be posting up a new chapter every Tuesday. I'm also going to publish something TW-related every Friday, which could be a chapter of this, an update for 'scarlet', a one-shot, or whatever else takes my fancy, so if you want an extra update show me you're interested. I think that's all I had to say, so thanks again for the reviews, and I hope you enjoy the chapter.
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It's chaos when Stiles and Cathy emerge from the alley. Isaac is holding up Kira, who looks like she might have done something to her ankle, and helping her limp away from the battle. Ethan is still fighting with one of the werewolves – it had been quite a big pack – but it looks like he's almost got the other guy beaten. And in the middle of the courtyard, Scott is taking on the alpha. The other wolf is at least twice Scott's size, but Scott isn't a true alpha for nothing. Stiles stays in the entrance to the alleyway, still holding onto Cathy's hand. His eyes scan the area in front of him, and he feels the knot in his chest loosen slightly as he locates Malia.
She's standing a few feet away from Scott and the alpha, and she looks like she wants nothing more than to interfere. But they all know this is Scott's fight, so the pack waits for his signal. Malia catches Stiles' eye and walks over to him, still watching the fight. It's violent – and loud – but it doesn't seem like Scott's in any immediate danger.
When Malia reaches Stiles, she seems mildly surprised to see that he's still with Cathy. It occurs to him that Malia probably expected him to leave her behind. No matter how many times he tries to explain that they don't leave people behind, she doesn't seem to get it. Most of the others have stopped even trying to explain it to her.
Cathy looks up at Malia, something like wonder cutting through the fear in her eyes. "Am I going to be okay?" she asks quietly.
Startled at being addressed, Malia looks at Stiles. He just shrugs, indicating that she needs to handle this one on her own. It's a chance for her to work on her social skills; not an ideal situation, admittedly, but he'll take any opportunity he can get.
"You'll live," Malia says brusquely, turning back to the fight.
If she's upset about the dismissal, Cathy doesn't show it. She stays where she is, and by the way she's holding onto his hand, Stiles can feel that she trusts them. She's terrified, but she's putting her trust in them, believing that they'll get her safely out of here. It's a sobering feeling, especially after everything that's happened. These days Stiles can barely be relied upon to keep himself safe, let alone anyone else.
The fight seems to drag on, and a couple times Stiles even thinks Scott might be beaten. But he just keeps getting up, and Stiles knows why. It's because Scott will never, ever give up. Not when there's innocent lives at stake. The rest of the other alpha's pack has been defeated – not killed, but beaten – and are now slinking around the edges of the courtyard. Even though they're the villains, there's still a kind of code among the werewolves. This last fight is between their alphas, and nobody's going to interfere.
Stiles looks around the courtyard again, making a mental note of the location and condition of all his pack mates. Isaac and Kira are talking quietly over the other side of the courtyard; she's slumped against the wall and he's carefully examining her foot. Ethan had been on his way to join them, but is now standing still and watching the fight. Malia is still in between Stiles and the fight, and if there wasn't such a wild look in her eyes he'd think it's because she wants to protect them. But as much as it pains him, it's because she's hoping she'll get a chance to dive back into battle.
There's someone missing. A vital member of the pack, someone who'd always been the first to jump into battle and the last to leave; leading by example. Never waiting for anyone, even when she probably should have. Stiles looks away, down at Cathy, and reminds himself why they're doing this. They're carrying on Allison's legacy, protecting those who can't protect themselves. It just sucks that they have to do it without her.
A noise from behind him makes him turn around, and his surprise is quickly replaced by a slight tinge of guilt. Lydia comes to a stop beside him, wrapping her arms around herself and watching the battle with wide eyes. He'd almost forgotten about her; normally she isn't involved in pack fights like this, so at times he forgets that she's part of the pack. It's unfair, because without her they wouldn't be able to have advance warning of deaths or be able to figure out the intricate plans of whatever enemy they're facing, but the fact of the matter is that Lydia's not a fighter. She's not a warrior, not like Allison was, and although she's part of the pack, at times it feels like she isn't.
"Where have you been?" he mutters, looking back to the fight.
"Staying out of the way," Lydia snaps, with venom that's as surprising as it is unwarranted.
Before he can say anything more to her, the fight is over. Scott staggers sideways, blood splashed across his face and shirt, but he's triumphant. The other alpha falls to the ground, gasping for breath and sounding like he's choking on blood. But he's not dead, because that's not the code they live by.
Stiles is too far away to hear the exact words Scott is saying, but he knows the speech almost off by heart. Scott is telling the other alpha to leave, and warning him what will happen if he comes back. The other alpha seems to take this on board, because he scrambles to his feet and then stumbles away, hanging his head and not even looking Scott in the eye. He gathers his followers and departs, an ignominious retreat if ever there was one.
Scott stays where he is for a moment, breathing deeply and watching the retreating figures of the other pack. Then he shifts back into his fully human form and turns to his own pack, inclining his head slightly to indicate that they should regroup near him. They do, picking their way carefully across the slick surface. Kira leans on Isaac, and Ethan walks over to help them. Stiles leads Cathy, and Malia falls into step beside them. Lydia is the last to reach them, looking like she'd much rather be somewhere else.
"Are we all okay?" Scott asks, looking around at his pack. He notices Kira and his eyes widen. "What happened?"
"It's nothing," she says quickly, still leaning against Isaac and Ethan. "I'll be fine."
He frowns, like he doesn't quite buy it, but then he sees Cathy. He looks up at Stiles, a silent question clear in his expression.
"She's fine," Stiles says. "Pretty shaken up, and she got cut -"
"Take her to the hospital," Scott orders. "My mom will take care of her."
"I can do it," Ethan offers. "I was already going to take Kira."
The kitsune rolls her eyes slightly. "I told you, I'm fine. I don't need you to drive me to the hospital."
"You're going," Scott says firmly, and that puts an end to that argument.
"Do you want me to go too?" Stiles asks, feeling Cathy's grip on his hand tighten.
Scott considers this for a moment. "No," he says finally. "I want you and Malia to come with me."
"Why?" Malia asks, looking from Scott to Stiles and back again with excitement glimmering in her eyes.
"I want to make sure that pack's really gone," Scott explains. "Isaac, can you go to Derek's and ask him to keep an eye out in case they do come back?"
"Sure." Isaac leaves at once, after shifting Kira's weight entirely to Ethan.
Stiles hands Cathy over to Ethan too; the little girl looks at Stiles in confusion, but after an encouraging nod she goes with the other guy happily enough.
"You sure you can manage that?" Scott asks, his eyes drifting over Ethan, Kira, and Cathy.
"We'll be fine," Kira assures him, managing to put some weight on her foot. She takes Cathy's hand in hers, and, still leaning on Ethan, starts to leave. She pauses after a few steps and looks back at Scott. "Congratulations, by the way. You were awesome out there."
She turns back and keeps walking, so she doesn't see the shy, pleased smile that spreads across Scott's face, seeming at odds with the blood that's still streaked across his skin. Once Kira, Ethan, and Cathy are all safely on their way, Scott turns to the rest of his pack.
"Are you guys ready?" he asks.
Stiles nods and starts to go toward him, but before he can go very far he hears a voice from behind him.
"What about me?"
They all turn to see Lydia still standing there, silent, like she has been this whole time. Stiles had almost forgotten she was there. She's looking at Scott now, and although he knows it's probably just his imagination, it almost feels like she's deliberately ignoring Stiles.
"Are you okay to get home on your own?" Scott asks, his voice gentle even though it's still rough with pain.
Lydia stiffens, and Stiles can't tell if it's fear or indignation. "I can find my own way home," she says, and there's a definite edge to her voice. Her expression softens slightly and she says, "Congratulations, Scott," before she turns on her heel and walks toward her car.
That just leaves Stiles, Malia, and Scott. Standing, not for the first time, in a bloodstained battlefield. Stiles shivers, wishing that he could be the kind of teen whose usual Friday night doesn't involve saving a little girl from a pack of werewolves.
Malia raises an eyebrow. "Are you cold? You're shivering."
"No." Stiles follows Scott, who's started to walk toward the Jeep. Malia jogs a couple steps to catch up, falling into step beside Stiles – like she always does. She's still looking at him questioningly, and although he'd love a little bit of silence, Stiles finds himself explaining. "I'm not cold, I'm – I'm uncomfortable."
The werecoyote frowns. "Did you tie your belt too tightly? I did that one time and -"
"It's not my belt," Stiles says tiredly. Normally he finds Malia's cluelessness endearing, but not tonight. He gestures at the courtyard with one hand as he searches his pockets for his keys with the other. "I meant this. All of this. It's too much like…"
He trails off, but he knows Scott gets it. Malia, however, doesn't. "Too much like what?"
"Like the night Allison died," Stiles says quietly.
This at last seems to get through to Malia, because she doesn't say anything further. They pile into the Jeep, Stiles and Scott in the front and Malia in the back. They know where the other pack's hideout is, so that's their first stop; Scott will be able to tell if they plan on coming back. Although Stiles had craved silence only minutes before, suddenly he finds it oppressive. He starts to make some casual comment about the weather – something suitably trivial – but he's cut off by a sound from the back.
He glances at Malia in the rear-view mirror, alarmed to see that her face is pale and she's clutching her stomach.
"Malia?" he asks worriedly. "What is it?"
"It's just…" She grimaces, pulling up her shirt to reveal a cut about two inches long and almost half as wide.
Scott exhales slowly. "That looks pretty bad."
"It's not too bad," Malia says, but even Stiles, without the help of any sort of werecreature super-sense, can tell she's lying. "It should heal soon, right?"
"Yeah," Scott says, although he doesn't sound sure. They still haven't figured out the whole werecoyote thing yet – Malia doesn't seem to heal quite as quickly as they do, and she hasn't been having trouble controlling her transformations on the full moon. Well, any more trouble than she does on any other day, anyway.
They fall silent, but Stiles' mind is whirling.
After a while, Malia speaks again. "Why did you want to save that girl so much?"
Scott shares a look with Stiles, and then he twists in his seat so he's facing Malia. "Because it was the right thing to do," he says simply.
Stiles can see Malia turning this over in her mind. "How do you know what's right and what's wrong?" she asks.
Scott turns back to the front, giving Stiles a look that clearly says you're on your own.
"You can feel it," Stiles says slowly, knowing that he's probably the last person on earth who should be teaching Malia about morality and being a good person. "If something's right, you'll know it."
The same goes for when something's wrong, which explains why Stiles still feels so… empty. But he has his friends to think about – the pack – so he just grits his teeth and keeps driving, and tries not to notice that he has dried werewolf blood on his hands. For the third freaking time this week.
Sometimes being the only human in a pack of supernatural creatures really sucks.
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Don't forget to review, and I'll see you all next time.