Dylan and Christine huddled underneath a small van parked on Main Street in the Beacon Hills town square. Dylan's face was nearly black from crying and then rubbing his face with dirty hands in an attempt to stop. Christine had not cried once (and Dylan's admiration for his lifelong friend had doubled and doubled again at her strength), but her lower lip trembled now and then. Whether it was from anger or fear, he couldn't tell. Perhaps it was both.
When the last troop of the living dead passed them by, they made a break for it and ran into a hardware store, locking the door behind them. The owner had run out into the street (along with most of the other remaining residents of Beacon Hills) in an attempt to escape. From the screams they heard in the distance, his escape attempt failed.
Christine sniffed out the store while Dylan sat against a wall and huddled into himself, shaking uncontrollably. When she was satisfied that they were alone, she went about locking all the windows and doors and closing the shutters so that no one would be able to see inside. The hardware store was fortified against breaking and entering more than any other merchant on the street, so they would be safe for a while. She tried the phone with no success. She picked up a machete from a nearby shelf and gave it a few practice swings before putting it down regretfully. She was simply not strong enough to wield it efficiently. Christine looked at her small, delicate looking hands and wished harder than ever that they were capable of sprouting deadly claws so that she could rip those zombies to shreds. She caught her trembling lip in her teeth and bit it until she tasted blood.
She didn't notice when the small cut sealed itself shut.
Dylan let something out that was between a whimper and a groan, and Christine quickly grabbed a small hunting knife and strapped it to her belt before going over to him. Sitting down next to him, she put one arm around him, feeling an unusual surge of protectiveness and rage at his fright, and she racked her brain for a way to calm him down.
"We'll be okay, Dyl-weed. Our parents and our Alphas have fought monsters lots of times, and they always won. If we were just a little older, we could have flattened these creeps."
"Do you think our parents will be mad at us for ditching Aunt Maria and coming back here?"
"Um….yeah. We're in for it. But they have to stop treating us like-"
Christine stopped herself. She now knew exactly why they had been sent away, and how their parents would have every right to be furious with them. But the grown-ups just never told them what was going on, and the young pre-werewolves were worried. Aunt Maria had been tight-lipped about the whole affair, and that's why they decided to come back.
Christine suddenly had an idea.
"I'll tell you a story about how kick-ass our Pack is. Then you'll know that stupid zombies could never hurt us. Wanna hear it?"
Dylan turned to look at her. "Is it for real?"
Christine punched him in the arm. "Of course it is!"
Dylan shrugged. "Yeah, right. Okay, tell me."
"Once upon a time…" she began. "…there was a king named…um…"
A memory of Stiles wearing a Burger King crown at a long ago party came into her mind. "A king named Stiles. And Stiles was very unhappy…"
"Why was he unhappy?" interrupted Dylan.
Christine pinched him. "Quiet! Now I have to start again!"
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Once upon a time, in a kingdom (called Stiles' Isles) at the edge of a great forest, there lived a king named Stiles who was very unhappy. He was unhappy because although his kingdom was rich and he was loved by all the people, he was very lonely. Sometimes the beautiful Princess Christine and the stupid Prince Dylan from the Silver Lands would visit him to play games and try to make him happy, but he was still lonely sometimes.
Now, the dark forest that bordered the kingdom was home to a ferocious pack of werewolves, led by an Alpha that was feared throughout all the known lands. The people of Stiles' Isles wanted to hunt in the forest, but the werewolves always chased them out. The werewolves wanted to shop in the marketplaces of Stiles' Isles, but since the people were so afraid of them, they always called out the guards. The werewolves could totally have eaten the guards, but the Alpha wouldn't let them. He didn't want to start a war, and there were so many more humans than werewolves.
One day, the Alpha went to visit King Stiles to see if they couldn't work out a truce. King Stiles had the Alpha escorted to his throne room surrounded by guards. He was afraid of them since this one mysterious werewolf always made him jump and scream when he was a teenager by sneaking into his window at night. One day the unknown werewolf had disappeared, and King Stiles was relieved, but also a little sad.
When King Stiles saw the Alpha, he shouted: "It's you! You were the one that was always sneaking into my window!"
The Alpha, who's name was Derek, nodded his head and said "Yeah, that was me."
"Why did you sneak into my window? I should have you arrested! You always made me jump and scream!" the king shouted.
Derek growled low at the king. "I climbed into your window to tell you that I ate some spies that were trying to trap you. When you jumped and screamed, I ran away because I didn't want you to be scared of me."
King Stiles hung his head in shame.
"Thank you for eating those spies. Is there anything I could do in return? Would you like some pillows stuffed with phoenix feathers and a bag of gold?"
Derek shook his head. "My people want to shop in your marketplaces, but the townsfolk always call the guards. I want you to tell them its okay for us to shop there."
King Stiles said "Okay, but you have to let my people hunt in your woods."
Derek said "Okay. I should be going now."
As Derek turned to leave, King Stiles felt something in his heart turn over.
"Hey, Derek! Um, do you want to stay and play some games with me?"
Derek smiled. "Sure, that would be neat."
And so King Stiles and Derek had so much fun…um.. playing games… that Derek decided to move into his castle, and all the werewolves were allowed to shop in the marketplaces. They got married a few years later, and all the kingdom celebrated. Then zombies tried to invade, but the Alpha bit all of the people of Stiles' Isles and made them into werewolves and they ate up all the zombies. And Princess Christine was still the prettiest, smartest, and toughest girl around. The End.
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Dylan gave Christine the fisheye. "I don't believe that for a minute." He said decisively.
"Why not?" asked Christine, outraged.
"Derek NEVER smiles! Or says 'neat'!"
"Oops, you're right." Christine started giggling, which sent Dylan off, and she was glad to see the color coming back into his face.
"I wish we could change like the grownups." Dylan said quietly.
"Me too. Hey, maybe we could…do you want to try?"
Dylan looked at her. "We're too young!"
"Who says? Erik and Laurie are the only born werewolves besides us, and they didn't even know the secret. Derek knew, but he never told us what age he started to change. I bet he changed when he was a baby! Plus, maybe the rules are different when its an emergency."
"Okay. Let's try."
The two sat across from each other and closed their eyes, willing their inner wolves to come out.
Nothing happened.
"Try to make yourself angry, Dylan. Imagine one of those zombies trying to eat me!" Christine urged.
She thought it might have been her imagination, but Dylan's eyes seemed to change color for a split second. His scent in her nose sharpened, then faded away quickly.
Following her own advice, she furiously imagined the undead creatures out there closing in on Dylan and reaching for him with decaying maggoty hands. She had the queerest sensation of something turning over deep inside her. But it was so deep and far away feeling…she thought it might be hopeless. Now she was sorry she brought it up, because Dylan was trying to growl and gnash his teeth, but he only looked like he was having a seizure.
Something tickled at the back of her mind, the way Aunt Lydia always said happened when she was on the point of figuring something out. There was something missing, some obvious fact about werewolves that related to their problem.
'Wolves are stronger when…'
Yeah, that was it. Derek had been talking about something within their earshot, and the end of the sentence had trailed off as he realized the kids were listening. But she had heard it; only it was a long time ago.
'Wolves are stronger when…they hunt…'
The sound of glass breaking at the front of the shop yanked her attention back to reality. A zombie dressed in a ragged suit had broken through the wooden shutter and the glass of the window, reaching in a decaying arm to grope blindly for them.
The two children ran through the store to the back, leaping backward at the last second as something heavy slammed into the door from the outside. Dylan peered through a crack in the door.
"Is it a zombie?" she asked, her voice trembling only a little.
"No. It's some kind of snake guy."
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Thorbardin commanded the undead to flank the front of the store while he slowly broke through the rear entrance. After finding Gallows and his new consort, the general had ordered him to locate and destroy either Erik Hale or Robin Stark…or failing that to try and take down Derek Hale himself. The death of any of the three would spell the end of the werewolves and all their plans. But just as he was on his way towards the Hale mansion, the hissing voice from the sea stopped him…and the kanima changed course.
"An opportunity hasssss arisssen! Go to the center of the town and desssstroy the children you find there! The Avatarsssss will come forth at thissss insssssult, and Gallowsssssss will perissssh under the teeth and clawssss of My brother! Sssssso will I be revenged!"
Thorbardin was in no position to argue with his true master. He slammed his fist into the door and began to pull it apart.
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"Oooooh, where the heck did that thing come from?" Christine shrieked as Thorbardin's reptilian eye peered in at her. Another blow, and the reinforced door gave way. In another minute, the monster would be ravening among them.
The two children clasped their small hands together (hardly conscious of it in their terror) and backed slowly away from the door. Another crash behind them informed the children that the zombie in the suit had broken in as well.
"I love you, Dyl-weed." whispered Christine, her wide eyes staring at the snake thing as it tore through the opening.
"I love you too, Chris-mean."
As the noise of their own frantically beating hearts filled their ears, blotting out the roaring of the monster in front of them, a sudden sense of peaceful calm filled the mind of Christine McCall.
"Wolves are stronger when they hunt in a Pack." spoke Derek's voice clearly, from long ago and far away.
"Dyl, would you like to be in a Pack with me?"
Taloned hands reached for them.
Neither child noticed that their own clasped hands were bleeding as new-grown claws sank into each other's palms, their blood mixing together.
"Forever and always, Chris." The children felt something awaken within them. The wolves that had lain dormant within them since the day they were born roused themselves, and Dylan's eyes flared from sky blue to piercing sapphire even as Christine's brown gaze smoldered with amber fire. And the wolves brought with them the ancient rage of their kind, an inferno stoked to volcanic fury for millennia, passed on from Fenrir to all his offspring and their offspring.
The monster gave a surprised hiss as his cornered prey suddenly turned on him.
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The three Alphas were the first to notice what was happening in the sky. As one they had gone outside when the eclipse began, staring up as sun and moon completed the steps of their ancient dance.* These times always brought with them great changes, and the Alphas felt power fill them such as they never felt before. They knew instinctively that the Avatars within them would emerge at their command; in fact they must command it…such sacrifices must always be done willingly. The temptation to give in and lose themselves in animal fury and be free forever from pain and worry and doubt...well, it was stronger than they had believed possible.
Derek looked at Stiles, saw the pain and misery on his face. Stiles would never admit it under torture, but Derek knew Stiles felt that the battle was already over…that Derek would give in to his anger and be lost to his family forever.
"I won't do it, Sty. I pro-" Derek began.
"Don't. Don't promise that. If there's one thing I believe the gods of this world love to do, it's make people break their promises. Derek…if we get hurt…if we get killed…if there's no more reason to hold back…then do it. Let's take them with us."
"No one's getting killed, Stiles…except them." The words 'I promise' hovered on Derek's lips a second time, but he held them back. Stiles was probably right.
The eclipse reached totality, and they saw the violet dome expand outward from the distant lighthouse to encompass the town.
"What…the holy hell…was that?" breathed Lydia.
"That's to make sure no one gets out before Ragnarok is over. Gallows probably worked that somehow. His funeral." Erik grabbed Robin's hand and gave it a tight squeeze.
A strong wind blew from the direction of the town. Their superhuman senses registered the distant sounds of screams and screeching metal, the scent of fire…and decay.
"Not to be Captain Obvious, but I think something is happening in town." Robin sniffed, wrinkling his nose. "Why does it smell like fire and open graves?"
"We should check it out. Dad?" Erik turned towards his father.
"No!" shouted Stiles.
The Pack all turned and stared at him.
"Sorry, just had to get that out of my system." he said sheepishly. Derek stepped over and gave him a tight hug.
Jackson looked around at them all. "I know you don't want to hear this, but we should spread out and cover the town. If people are in danger, it will take too long to get to them."
Danny shook his head. "We'll be spread too thin, and be vulnerable to attack. We should stick together. Alphas? What do you say?"
Erik gave him a twisted smile. "Who says there aren't enough of us?"
Then he threw back his head, and howled loud enough to wake the dead…or it would have been if any dead had still been at rest.
The assembled werewolves watched as the Great Pack burst howling from the forest behind the house. Even Stiles forgot his fear and worry and just stared in breathless awe as over a thousand wolves raced past them. As one, the entire Pack shifted and blended in with them, racing away from the house to the center of town.
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Throbardin savagely fought the two young wolves, his kanima reflexes barely enough to keep his throat from being torn out. Wolves this young were unheard of. These two, though not very strong, seemed to move faster than light. Every time he responded to a new fresh wound, the cubs were gone and attacking another spot. The kanima healed quickly, but was unable to focus its attacks through the near constant pain. Thorbardin roared, calling on the undead to destroy the cubs. The zombies crowded into the store moaning and growling at the two cubs.
Christine was suddenly pulled away from Thorbardin by cold decaying hands. She was thrown across the room, smacking into the far wall and falling behind the checkout counter. She stood up and winced in pain, howling instinctively in fear for her companion who was now at the mercy of the snake monster and a zombie army.
Suddenly, Christine felt her strength drain away. The claws disappeared, and the fangs in her mouth retreated with an indignant click. Together, they were able to summon enough strength to bring on an early shift…but once separated they were just children again…human and helpless. Christine stared in horror as Dylan lost his own wolf, the kanima suddenly snatching him by the neck and squeezing as the boy's legs dangled in the air. There was a resounding crack, and the kanima dropped the boy to the floor. He lay dreadfully still.
Christine watched as the kanima leapt towards her, hissing through a mouth filled with rows of needle-like teeth.
She thought of her mother and father, and wished that she could see them just once more before she died.
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The town square of Beacon Hills was awash with blood. The Pack stood there, unable to believe their senses at what seemed to be a reenactment of 'Night of the Living Dead'. Most of the zombies were decayed and rotted, but more than a few smelled fresh, as if they had joined the ranks if the undead almost immediately after being killed. This was an army that could swell it's own ranks with each new victim. Derek gave the signal to attack to the adults even as Erik called to his wolves. The wolves fell among the zombies, working together to pull them to pieces and reduce their numbers.
Even with the Great Pack, the work seemed to go slow…but eventually they fell. The werewolves gathered together even as Erik sent the Great Pack through the streets to destroy any stragglers. They were quite a sight, the twenty shifted werewolves…eyes glowing with claws and fangs fully extended, and the blood and viscera of hundreds of zombies covering every inch of their bodies. The howling from a nearby hardware store snapped their attention even as they caught through the rotting stench two impossible scents…that of the two cubs they had sent away. Scott and Jackson roared, and together they ripped their way through the zombies that stood between them and their children. The rest of the Pack waited outside, Lydia and Allison gripping each other's hands tightly in nameless dread.
When Jackson's anguished howl came from deep within, Lydia fainted dead away. Her body crumpled to the floor as a grim-faced Scott emerged, one hand on Christine's shoulder and the other holding the head of some kind of snake monster. Allison ran to her husband's side and looked down at her daughter who was crying for the first time since infancy.
The Alphas and Stiles made their way into the store and found Jackson leaning over the broken body of his son, rage and grief twisting his handsome features.
The Alphas were silent, and to their surprise heard the very faintest of heartbeats in the young boy's body. His head lay at an unnatural angle, and he was fading fast…but he lived.
"We need to get him outside…I can call the wolves…together we can heal him!" Erik muttered.
"It's impossible…I don't know how he survived this long, but if we move him he'll die." Derek looked grim as he spoke the words, knowing what this might possibly mean to the McCalls as well as the Whittemores.
"We can't do it from in here…there isn't room in here for enough of us to make this work." Robin gripped Erik's hand…seeing the battered boy lying there was like watching himself in the early days of his captivity with Stucky.
Jackson looked up at Derek, his eyes glowing sapphire blue in his streaked face.
"Break the damn walls down, Derek. If the damned Great Pack can heal him, then you pull this building apart and let them in."
"Even if we could, Jackson…it couldn't be done fast enough. There's no way." But even as he said it…he knew there was.
They all knew it.
Derek looked at Stiles. Together for two decades, they could read each other's expression like well-loved books. A single questioning glance at Stiles was all Derek needed to give. Stiles looked at his husband…at his son and son-in-law…and at the fallen boy and his grief stricken father. He thought of Scott and Allison outside, with their daughter who would follow Dylan into death. He thought of Laurie, who already hated the wolf…and how much more she would she would hate it when it claimed almost her whole family in one stroke…just as it had claimed Derek's family so long ago.
All of this went through his mind in a moment. Stiles would have liked time enough for the family and the Pack to make this decision together…but Derek had left it all up to him. He wanted to cry, but he had the strangest sense that he was no longer able to. He had cried the last of his tears out in the other world, atop the prison of the Great Alpha…a monster who burned to revenge this and so many other wrongs and betrayals. Stiles suddenly realized that he had known even then that this moment would come. He wept because he had known it would be up to him…as these things always seemed to be up to him…and he had known what decision he would make. When he had eaten Carl Stucky that night in Red Falls when they rescued Robin, Stiles knew that there was no price he would not pay to protect and revenge his family and his Pack. When it came to those he loved…he was more ruthless than Derek on his worst day…and Derek had always known it. Perhaps that was why they were destined to be mates.
"Do it Derek. Save Dylan…kill Gallows…and let the damned Wolf free. This has gone on for too long...end it now."
Derek nodded. "I love you, Stiles." he whispered.
Stiles turned on his heel and left the store.
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Stiles emerged from the store and walked over to his daughter. He spoke a few words to her, and she screamed. It was an entirely human scream.
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Derek, Erik and Robin pulled off their shirts and let the garments drop to the floor. Derek pulled Jackson to his feet. "Outside. I'll bring your son out to you." Jackson left, sparing his son one final glance. He couldn't look at the Alphas. Even now, having made their decision, they were more than Alphas and the wolf inside him could not bring itself to meet their gaze. Their eyes glowed unholy crimson as the energies gathered inside them. This would be the first time Erik and Robin would be conscious through the change, and (despite the sacrifice this entailed) small parts of them were eager to go through with it. Erik moved behind Dylan's broken body and turned his back to the group. Robin stood on the other side, so that sun and moon faced each other. The tattoos seemed to catch fire, and crimson flame connected the two in a stream of crackling energy. The triskelion burned on Derek's own back as he moved to complete the triangle around Dylan's body. Together, they represented both lock and key to Fenrir's cage as well as that of the Avatars within them. The conjoined flames shot into his back and then burned out as the three began to irrevocably transform. Derek had just enough presence of mind to turn his body and kneel over Dylan protectively. The Alpha shift came over him and the boys, his body becoming an enormous wolf…a wolf that began to swell to nightmarish proportions.
Through the haze of encroaching death, Dylan stared up the gargantuan avatars that ripped the building apart, protected from falling debris by Derek's enormous body.
He smiled, though he could not feel it.
"Magic wand, make my monster grow!" he thought dreamily as blackness took him.
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The Pack watched as the brick building exploded outward, revealing three shapes that seemed to once more blot out the newly revealed sun. The hardware store, and its neighbors on either side were dust. Stiles had already explained to the others what was happening, and one and all they stood in silent awe as the great beasts moved apart. The wolves that made up the great Pack appeared, responding to the Avatar's silent call. They pressed close around Dylan, who was now hidden from their sight. A recovered Lydia stood and took Jackson's hand as they pressed forward to discover what had become of their son. The wolves made a path for them, and there in the center of a circle that was clear of debris, Dylan Whittemore was sitting up and clapping delightedly at the chaos all around him.
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Somewhere in the deep water of Razor Gorge, an enormous serpent laughed with in its own mind. Though annoyed at the loss of its offspring, it exulted in the success of its plan. Fenrir would be free, and Gallows would meet his long deserved end. The serpent would also be released. Fenrir would either set him loose for causing the events that released him, or kill him for mortally wounding the cub. The serpent decided he did not care which. He had lived for mind-snapping gulphs of time, and was ready for whichever side of the spinning coin turned up.
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Gallows was lost in Kate's embrace when they realized what was happening.
"No…this is impossible!"
Kate looked at him sympathetically. "Sweetie, you are in deep shit!"
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Somewhere in a world just next door to ours, beneath an island at the center of a lake, an enormous beast (to whom the Avatars would be as mere cubs) bound in an enchanted golden cord suddenly felt its ancient bond break. The severed rope turned black, and then to ash. It had only ever been made to bind traitors…but the loyalty its children had demonstrated for hundreds of years, culminating in this enormous generations-long act of sacrifice was finally enough to undo the binding enchantment.
The beast lay still for a single moment, savoring the first instant of freedom it had known in millennia.
Then the entire island exploded outward. The promise of Ragnarok had come to pass.
*P.S. Never look directly at a solar eclipse as it can severely damage your eyes. The gang got away with it since they are werewolves and their eyes can heal the damage.