It was as if history was repeating itself; as if the flames that had engulfed his childhood home were awakening from hell to consume all that he had left. He could hear the high pitched screams of his mother, the terrified wails of his cousins as they clung to their dying parents. He could taste the thick smoke as well as smell the despair permeating the air. His limbs felt as if they were being torn apart muscle by muscle, bones cracking into shards that pierced his organs. He remembered Laura's cool and collected demeanor as she commanded him to run, to get the hell out of there.
They'd ran, smelling the familiar scents of hunters; but only one stood out to him that night, only one sent him into panic and a self loathing depression that lasted for years afterward. The grief, the guilt, the bitterness had weighed him down, had morphed him into the man he was months ago. He trusted no one, had developed a shell to push anyone away, to protect those he loved from the disease of self hate. That fire that had destroyed everything had occurred exactly seven years ago that night, and now the flames were there, stealing everything from him yet again.
After his family had died he'd been shattered, broken but reparable. This time however he knew there would not be any pieces left to repair him with; there would be no man, woman, or child that could ever resurrect the corpse he would become if they lost Stiles. He would die with his mate, he would cease to exist. There would no longer be a Hale pack; Scott could take the position if he wanted it. Never before had he felt so empty, so utterly and entirely desolate. A void was already beginning to hollow out his chest, scraping the deepest cavities of his heart and lungs, suffocating him. He had never felt this way and prayed he never would again.
He growled, his wolf thirsting for blood. He breathed heavily, looking into the glass case at his reflection. He did not recognize the man before him, nor did he want to. The man's eyes were on fire, vibrantly sparking with every inhale. His features were contorted with barely contained rage; fur and fangs completely visible.
He continued looking in the glass case, eyeing his pack. Dr. Deaton was attending to Lydia, Jackson at her side. He was proud of her for handling those alphas like a full grown wolf, but also furious that she had not thought to be with Stiles that night. Allison was curled on Scott's lap, head resting on his shoulder. He rubbed the small of her back, face uplifted towards the ceiling in deep thought. Derek wanted nothing more than to strangle the boy; his best friend was in the hands of monsters and here he was coddling his obviously well protected girlfriend. Boyd, Peter, Isaac, and Erica were guarding the doors, ignoring the group of hunters that stood just in the doorway. All together, they had about twenty four people, granted most human, but it wasn't enough. These were alpha wolves who knew how to obliterate packs and level cities.
Scott began tapping his foot against the floor, humming to himself. It reminded him painfully of his endangered mate. He clenched his teeth to fight down the fury strangling his common sense and squeezed his eyes closed. The noise vibrated in his eardrums, growing louder and louder. He felt it before the snap, felt the rush of heat through his limbs. He roared and hurled his fist into the cabinet. Allison squeaked, but he could only focus on controlling his breathing and the plinking of glass against the concrete floor. The room grew silent, Chris pausing in the layout of the plan. The temperature dropped twenty degrees and he could feel all eyes on him. Scott was the first to speak.
"You really have no one to blame but yourself Derek. You knew what it would do to him, what it would mean…"
Derek turned to his beta, ready and willing to rip his throat out. "Don't," he said simply.
Scott vehemently shook his head. When he finally met his eyes, Derek could see the tears, the red puffiness, and the tortured soul within. This was hurting Scott more than he'd let on; the boy was a shitty friend and he knew it, accepted it, but he cared for Stiles, had since they were children. "No, Derek. You were wrong for claiming him in the first place. You knew they were after us Derek, just us. He didn't have to get that deeply involved, but once you decided he was your mate they made a plan. This was a game and now they hold all the cards. You screwed up Derek, and now Stiles will pay for it."
He refused to accept the words as truth. He advanced upon the beta, prepared to kill him without hesitation. The last time someone had paid for his mistakes everyone he knew had been charred until they were unrecognizable husks of burned flesh. Allison stood, hands raised in front of her, eyes pleading with him.
He paused in his tracks, clenching his fists at his side. Scott was on his feet as well, eyes flashing gold. "Allison move out of the way."
She looked at both of them incredulously, eyes larger than life. "Derek, Scott, please calm down. Fighting isn't going to help." She turned wildly to her father. "Dad do something."
The man made to enter the room, but Erica thrust her arm out, blocking his path. He wrinkled his nose at the limb, as if it were infected. Erica's eyes were pale gold, her body trembling with the sudden tension in the air. "I don't think so."
"Excuse me child, but I need to assist my daughter. I will use force if necessary." Two men stepped up behind Chris, cracking their knuckles.
"Give me a reason to snap your pathetic body in half Argent, just give it to me." She snarled viciously.
Boyd threaded an arm around her waist slightly pulled her away from the doorway. Chris nodded curtly, taking a confident step into the room. Peter unfroze from the corner he occupied, immediately stepping in the hunter's path. "I advise you not to get in the middle of that."
"I think I can handle Hale and Scott. Step aside." He made to step around the man, but the man caught his elbow, wolfed out. The other rookies pulled out shot guns and aimed at Peter. Jackson snarled and left Lydia's side. In a blink of an eye he had one of the hunter's pressed against the wall, crushing his windpipe. The other hunters jumped into action, cramming into the tiny room, weapons loaded and ready.
Derek and Scott unfroze from their position and rushed to their pack mates' defense. Deaton paused in his work, eyes flitting between the hunters and werewolves; Allison had her body plastered against the far wall, hand clasped over her mouth fearfully. The wolves were transformed, slipping into a synchronized formation, each poised to spring. The hunters cocked their guns, lining up their shots.
All eyes were on Peter and Chris, waiting for the one move that would start the apocalypse. The two were squaring off, fixing each other with icy glares.
"I think…it would be in everyone's best interest if you remove your hand from my arm Hale."
"Call off your hunters Argent." Peter replied coolly. They were non- relenting, neither giving an inch.
The wolves began to growl; Derek could feel his wolf just below the surface. He felt his muscles expanding, the rush of heat to his limbs. The others felt it too and were trembling with the energy he was radiating. The clock ticked and as if in slow motion, the first brave hunter placed his finger on the trigger, aimed directly at Peter's heart.
"ENOUGH!" Lydia bellowed. Her voice had dropped an octave, reverberating with malice. Everyone in the room turned to her, startled.
She was standing on the metal table, towering over all of them. The light caught her face at just the right angle, making it appear as if her head was on fire and her eyes burning gold.
"You all are pathetic dumbasses; enough of the stupid fighting. Do you honestly think that ANY of you are helping the situation?"
"Lydia-" Scott started, straightening out of his crouch.
"Shut the hell up McCall. You have a lot of nerve to tell anyone off. You are the one that has ignored him since the very beginning, since you were first bitten. You think we don't all see it? You blame him for your being a werewolf; you always secretly have. And to get him back what did you do? You screwed around with a girl, leaving him to run around behind you cleaning up your shit. He's always been there for you, even when you didn't deserve it Scott. Because of you he felt worthless, like he had to prove himself to even earn your attention. Now look what happened. He thought he could take on a freaking alpha like his idiotic best friend who only reprimands but never actually helps him."
There was a stunned silence. Lydia lithely climbed off the table. Erica straightened, body still vibrating with unresolved tension. "You have no right to-"
"Erica, I understand you think you are the shit now, but please honey, shut up and grow up. I can honestly say everyone liked you better before you became a wolf."
"Why, because I was weak and pathetic?" she spat.
"Because you were actually human, you were actually a person. I can't stand to be in your presence now; it's disgusting what you've become. Even I'm not as shallow as you are. But what makes it all funny is that you don't even believe it. You're still the scared little epileptic girl from around the corner. You hate yourself so much that you put off this whole slutty façade, hoping we'll accept you. Grow up." Lydia stormed. Erica gaped at her like a fish out of water; her bottom lip trembled as she sputtered, trying to form an adequate retort.
The people in the room were appalled at her rant, all losing their tense positions. A few of the hunters backed out of the room, lowering their weapons as they went. Peter lowered his hand, fixing the young hybrid with an appraising look.
Derek was biting back the urge to reprimand the girl for stepping out of line, to punish her for the blatant disrespect she was displaying. He knew his reaction was only because of the full moon. The girl turned to him and he matched her furious stare boldly.
She walked until she was close enough for their chests to touch. He listened to her heartbeat, surprised to find no trace of fear behind the determined exterior. "Derek I know you're hurting, but you have to stop the self pity. Stiles needs you to be one hundred percent on the ball. You may not give a damn what any of us may think or say, but you do care about him. If you want to save him before it's too late, you have to steel your nerves, straighten your spine. If you're going to do it, do it for him."
She stepped away, walking into Jackson's waiting embrace. Allison shakily dropped her hand from her mouth, numbly walking until her hand slipped into Scott's. Scott stepped until his left side was pressed along Isaac, who in turn leaned against Boyd. The teenager adjusted his hold on Erica. She sniffled and reached out until her palm pressed against her alpha's shoulder blades.
Peter hung back, watching the pack embrace each other. Chris narrowed his eyes at his daughter, but otherwise said nothing. He huffed and stomped from the room, his hunter party watching him warily.
Derek was still looking at Lydia, more surprised than he had been in years. Her words were cutting, but sincere. She was certain what she was saying was nothing but fact, that by her bluntness she would see action. It reminded him of Laura, how she'd been ever since the fire. Again he felt a dull ache in his chest, but he swallowed it away. Lydia may have gone overboard with Scott and Erica, (or dead on the bulls eye), but she was right; Stiles was all that mattered.
He waited until he calmed down enough for his muscles to deflate, for his breathing to steady. He craned his neck, his eyes sweeping over his pack. They met his eye resolutely and he knew at that moment they all thought the same thing: they would stand together. He sighed and turned to Chris. "What's the plan?"
The man nodded, but before he could speak several shrill howls split the air. They tensed, turning and looking at each other. Lydia growled in her chest, stepping out of Jackson's arms. The wolves allowed themselves to transform yet again, only this time they awaited Derek's instruction. Peter joined him, face placid, though body humming with energy. The hunters gathered their weapons, touching foreheads in what Derek could only describe as a farewell gesture. They all knew it was time, time to either live or die.
"Let's go." He snarled, eyes darkening to red as dark as the blood coursing through his veins.
The sky was cloudless, the pale red and gold moon standing brilliantly against a black canvas. A thick white fog rolled sluggishly over the pavement, whispering over their feet. Over head an owl hooted forlornly before taking flight, its' wings thrumming on their ear drums. The wind whistled softly, whipping the girl's hair. The air was humid, the level of testosterone in the air palpable; even the females seemed to be excreting the hormone.
Derek stood center of the throng of werewolves and hunters. He kept his face composed, relaxed his body just slightly. His eyes were roaming over the mass of wolves across from him, searching out the one person he had to see. Scott was to his immediate right, shielding Allison who had refused to sit the battle out. She had one hand on her waist, thumb circling her hip. Peter stood on his left, a restraining hand on Lydia's shoulder. The female was beyond enraged; the ground around her feet was cracking, the air crackling with electricity. She'd definitely grown in strength. Erica, Boyd, Isaac, and Jackson had formed a loose semi-circle around them, all focused on their opponents. Chris and the Argents had formed a backline, all weapons loaded and aimed.
The alphas were standing tall like soldiers, shoulders thrust back, chins pointed. Each pair of red eyes were cold and resolute. These were wolves that had accepted that they could die in battle, but refused to let that hinder them. They stood in a loose pyramid formation, the red head at the lead. She wore a skin tight black body suit with combat boots. Her hair danced around her angelic face, shadowing her malignant smirk. Derek bristled, wanting to tear it off.
She was the first to speak across the void. "Hello Derek. I see you've come prepared to play this final little game. And you've brought snacks for my pups, how thoughtful." Her alphas snickered, eyeing the hunters greedily.
Chris stepped forward, lucidly flabbergasted. "Isabella McAllister. You survived after all these years?" He looked at the red head as if she were an apparition.
The girl…Isabella…recoiled as if he'd physically struck her. She faltered for a moment, but quickly replaced her cocky mask. "Yes Argent I have survived, and as you can see I am not the same little girl whose family you murdered in cold blood. I'd love to give you a detailed description of what I have been doing the last fifteen years, but sadly I'm here to eviscerate the lot of you." She grinned revealing her teeth.
"I don't have time for games! Either you surrender and leave or we will take you down." Derek growled, earning her attention. She glowered at him only a moment, before laughing, a wicked glint in her eyes.
"Oh Derek, but that is exactly what this is! A lovely little game I devised to watch you suffer. By the end of this you will be begging for me to end your pathetic little life."
"Nothing will make me bow to you McAllister. Not a damn thing." He readied himself, preparing to strike at a moment's notice.
Her face split in two, every tooth glistening. Her eyes looked crazed, her hair shaking vibrantly around her head. "Really, nothing could make you submit? Not even your…mate?"
Isabella raised her hand, snapping her fingers. The alphas around her parted; Derek and the betas held their breath. Phil strutted from behind them, a smug sneer on his face. He winked at Lydia who viciously tried to tear out of Peter's firm grasp. Derek felt his heart thudding in his ears, chest tightening suddenly. The man was leading on other person on a leash. The young man walked with his head bowed, shoulders twitching. The duo paused in front of the girl, the boy knelt before her. She placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing the boy's neck.
The boy raised his head. His eyes were wild and crazy, shifting from red to brown to gold, never settling on a single color. His skin was chalk white, droplets of sweat dripping down his face. His lips were cracked, a thin line of blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth. He bared a row of dagger like canines, snarling hungrily. His back was arched unnaturally, as if his spine had grown. He could see the muscle rippling beneath his skin. He looked dangerous, he looked lethal, he looked like a monster.
"Stiles." The wolves breathed in unison. The air suddenly became rigid, neither side saying anything. The only sounds were the alternating whimpers and snarls Stiles was making. Derek could hear the quickening of breath, the shudders running through his pack's bodies as they took in their fallen comrade.
He himself couldn't tear his eyes away from the boy, even though the image was slowly shredding him from the inside out. Smoke filled his lungs, strangling him, his chest engulfed in malicious flames. Everything was being taken from him, everything. He knew immediately what Isabella's plan was; it was devious and horrid, but a good plan. She had done something to Stiles because only he would fight him, no one else would dare go near him. He would have to choose to let himself be killed and let the alphas obliterate his pack, or he could kill Stiles and let the torment whittle away at him until he lost control and killed everyone. It was brilliant.
"What did you do to him?!" Scott bellowed. Allison held on to his arm tightly, Chris falling back to help.
"I made him more fun, don't you think? It isn't anything permanent…I think. But you needn't worry about that Scotty boy. I'm all yours." Isabella shifted, winking at him.
Derek kept his eyes trained on Stiles but he allowed himself to shift. His betas reacted, tightening the formation, ready to attack. "Scott…I want her head." By the answering growl Derek knew there was no argument there.
Isabella's eyes widened with excitement. "Excellent. Stiles, kill boy."