Chapter 13: A Good Turn Means You Didn't Hit the Lightpost
Every stand-off has to end, but what that end will be can be hard to predict. Especially when nobody ever really stays out of the fight.
In the headlights, both paths seemed equal. They were both overgrown, barely-there tracks, and they both disappeared into tree-covered darkness. Unfortunately, both paths also seemed to go in Scott's vague 'that way' direction.
"Right now, we could kind of use Scott," Allison said. "Maybe I could call him."
"All he could tell us is where he is in relation to the shack." Lydia turned to her. "Or is there some kind of psychic link between you two? You know, because of all the knotting and stuff that dogs do." She gave Allison a too-bright smile.
Allison looked at her friend in disbelief. There was some light from the dashboard, but it didn't illuminate Lydia's features much. She couldn't tell if Lydia had been serious or teasing.
Because Lydia was her friend, she chose to go with teasing. "He's not a dog. And this isn't a kink fic."
"No knotting?" Lydia whined with an exaggerated pout.
Allison decided that, since Lydia was her friend, she'd take the comment like a joke. She gave Lydia a saintly smile. "If you'd been with Aiden, you'd know."
"Oo, touché." Lydia's eyebrow rose in appreciation. "We were thaaat close…" she said with a smile and a laugh. Then both fell away. "I can't believe—"
"Don't think of it," Allison cut off Lydia's self-recrimination. "Aiden was cute, and he liked you."
"He wasn't just using me?" There was vulnerability in the question, so Allison was careful how she answered.
"Only for sex."
She managed to keep her expression serious as Lydia screeched in mock outrage and hit her.
"Your face," Allison said giggling.
"I can't believe you said that," but Lydia was laughing, so it was okay.
When they finally stopped giggling, they were still in the middle of the Preserve with no idea which way to go.
It was weird. Beacon Hills, the town, wasn't big, and there weren't many places in the county that were without houses and yard lights, cars and the noise of people. Yet, they'd driven barely 30 minutes from the center of town and there was nothing around them but trees and wild things.
"Maybe I can hook up to his phone's GPS. Track him that way." Allison pulled out her cell. The screen was bright compared to the forest-covered darkness they'd been driving in, and she had to squint for a moment to let her eyes adjust. It wasn't even 9 o'clock, she noticed. So weird.
With a shake of her head, she refocused on her task—find Scott.
There were no bars. There wasn't even the little 'R' for roaming. In fact, even her weather app didn't know where she was. She dropped her hand into her lap. "Nope."
She sat beside Lydia. They didn't even have the music on, so it was quiet except for the hum of the motor.
"Do we go back?" Allison didn't want to. "What if he gets hurt? I mean, I know the police are there, and everything, but what if someone dies?" It wouldn't be her fault, not legally, but she'd known her grandfather was a bad man, that he needed to leave her family, leave Beacon Hills, but she hadn't pushed the issue. Too scared of upsetting her parents and making her mother angry with her.
There was no response from Lydia. Allison turned to look.
Her friend sat staring out the window, unblinking.
"Lydia?" she asked softly.
Nothing.
"Lydia." This time she said it firmly. She even gave her friend a poke.
Lydia jerked in her seat, blinking rapidly as if to make up for what she'd missed.
Allison sighed. "I think we should go back."
Lydia still had no expression when she said, "I think we should go left."
Allison looked at the two tracks to see if she'd missed some sign. There was nothing. "Why?"
Lydia finally looked at her. "Just a feeling."
She put the car into drive and they crawled onto the left-hand path chasing the darkness.
-o0o-
It went from not great to disaster in moments.
First, one of the twins yelled a warning about Argent even as his brother moved to recapture him.
Then there was a small pop that was easily recognizable as a high-end sniper rifle, and the brother went down. The smell of wolfsbane curled into the corner making all the wolves flinch. The twin could already be dead, or he might not be. The sheriff had to end this, and soon, so they could treat the boy. Except…
Gerard had his son by the throat.
In a room full of werewolves wanting to rend him into atoms, the bastard had grabbed his son and was threatening him with the gun.
"You should have searched me more carefully, Sheriff," Gerard said with a smirk.
"Yes, I should have." It was hard to form the words with his wolfish mouth.
Gerard settled his hold on Stiles more comfortably. "Now, finish them—" He lifted his chin, indicating Deucalion and Kali. "And then we can conclude our business."
"This isn't a video game, Gerard. I'm not here to finish anyone," he said with forced patience. "This doesn't have to end in death."
"Are you still planning to arrest him?" Deucalion asked with a disbelieving laugh. His features blurred back to mostly-human.
"That is still the preferred option, yes," the sheriff said. He didn't take his eyes off Argent—didn't need to. He could feel where the other werewolves were. He could hear them breathing (Ennis was getting close to consciousness).
Noah could also feel his SWAT team outside—ten deputies just waiting for a sign. "While we've been fighting in here, my people have moved into position around the building." He nodded at the downed twin. "They are willing to fire."
"And shoot the wrong people!" Kali shouted.
The sheriff nodded, still calm. "That's what happens in stand-offs like these. People get hurt."
Gerard raised his hand to Stiles' cheek. "Well, maybe I should start by removing one of your boy's pretty little eyes. It looks so good on Deucalion."
-o0o-
Chris had saved Stiles from the werewolf, but not from his father. From what he could see through the scope, Gerard had grabbed the boy, and was holding him boy by the neck. It would be so easy for Gerard to kill the boy, and everything the Argents were supposed to stand for would be forever ruined. Right now, everyone in the shed was frozen. It wouldn't last.
"We need to go in," he urged.
"We need a sign," Deputy Bungalon said.
"We got a fucking sign," Chris growled. "My father grabbing the sheriff's son. Make no mistake, Gerard will kill Stiles if it gets him what he wants."
"If we go in shooting, people will get hurt."
Chris felt like screaming! He pushed the impulse down and away. "Most of the people in that building can take a helluva lot more damage that you can dish out. Believe me on that," he said calmly. "I'll take care of my father. You can handle the rest."
It didn't look like the SWAT Team Leader would agree, and Chris was this close to going in without them, when they all heard Stiles cry out. After that, there was no hesitation.
-o0o-
Derek was distracted by Gerard Argent and his psychotic stupidity. It was as if he wanted to die, but Derek didn't think that was right. The old hunter was putrid with sickness, yet he was fighting the sheriff, fighting them all. There had to be a reason…
Unfortunately, he let himself forget that the hunter wasn't the only threat in the building.
"Derek!" Stiles' voice was strangled.
He had only moments to turn and see Kali behind him. She was bloody and she was hurting, but her eyes were crazy with rage.
The pipe she held aloft descended, finishing what she'd started before being shot.
In the moment before impact, Derek finally remembered his mother's scent: rosewood and Ceylon tea.
Then there was nothing but pain.
-o0o-
"Jesus Christ," Bungalon said. It was a prayer; it was disbelief. The infrared readers weren't detailed but they could see enough.
"Can we go in now?" It wasn't really a question, and Chris was already picking up his gear.
Deputy Bungalon nodded and gave the order over the radio. "Slow, controlled," he said. "I don't want anybody tripping over a tree branch." Not a bad command, Chris reflected. This was an unfriendly part of the woods—probably why the Hales had picked it for their bootleg operation so long ago.
Still there was slow, and then there was practically immobile.
"You know the werewolves can probably hear us already," he pointed out.
Bungalon didn't even look at him. "This is the first time we've been up against werewolves, Mr. Argent," he said. "Forgive us for falling back on our training so that our nerves don't overwhelm us."
Chris looked at the senior deputy. Did Stilinski teach all his people that dust-dry, don't-give-a-shit, delivery? He'd gotten it from the people who manned the desk, and now from the SWAT Team Leader. It was completely polite, and yet completely 'fuck off' as well.
He'd be impressed if it wasn't so annoying.
-o0o-
Noah was aware that Gerard was capable of following through on his threat, and that Derek and the one twin were seriously—maybe fatally—hurt. He was certainly aware that he was losing control of this whole situation, himself included. If there was a level beyond Pissed Off Alpha, he was fast approaching it, and that wasn't going to do anyone any good, especially not his son.
He refused to let it happen.
Sheriff Stilinski swallowed down the territorial rage that demanded he act now! He forced his claws and teeth back inside him. He shifted his shoulders and pretended he could feel the weight of his service belt on his hips. He was still the Sheriff of Beacon Hills County, and he'd be damned before a couple of grandiose assholes took that from him.
For some reason, Deucalion took a step away from him, and that made Gerard narrow his eyes at Noah and tighten his grip on Stiles.
A small stretch of his neck, and the sheriff felt more like himself. Ready to handle this situation properly.
"What do you hope to gain?" he asked Gerard. "Even if I kill Deucalion and Kali—"
Kali yelled a rude denial. He didn't look directly at her, but he saw that she didn't shift from her spot next to the pipe. She might even be using it to stay upright. Stiles had shot her twice with Gerard's gun, and it had been loaded with wolfsbane bullets. Since the hunter probably intended to kill Noah after this showdown, he'd probably used the strongest aconite he could get.
"What do you hope to gain, Mr. Argent?" Noah asked again. Personally, he thought it was hopeless—
Deucalion laughed. "He's not going to gain anything. There's too many of us, and only one of him." Noah sighed as Deucalion undercut basic hostage negotiation: never suggest that the hostage taker has no options.
-o0o-
In the end, Bungalon took Chris and four of the other nine SWAT team members into the decrepit building. Three went around to an old opening in the back—a couple of the tins sheets were missing—and the rest of them entered through the front. It was surprisingly easy to slip in the place, considering there were apparently seven werewolves inside, but they were all too engrossed in the battle of wills between Sheriff Stilinski and his father. His father who, indeed, was holding a gun to Stiles' head.
It was beyond a mere violation of the Code.
"What do you hope to gain?" The sheriff asked Gerard.
There was enough light from the large open entrance to see pockets of dust, kicked up by the fights, or maybe knocked off the unstable roof, drifting in small clouds. The shack groaned, as if unable to handle the tension.
Surprisingly, the sheriff still looked completely human. It was remarkable in that Chris had never heard of an Alpha gaining that much control over the werewolf's animal instincts in such a short time. It was especially remarkable considering his son was being threatened right in front of him.
He missed whatever Deucalion said that had the sheriff tensing up, but no claws came out. Instead, Stilinski raised his hands to his hip. They slipped a bit, as if he'd automatically placed them over a belt he wasn't wearing, but other than that, the sheriff showed no sign of being nervous or unsettled in any way.
Maybe it was a cop thing...
"If you surrender, drop your weapon and sit down on the floor," the sheriff said. "The Beacon Hills Sheriff's Office will take you into custody, and you can continue treatment for your cancer."
"Over my dead body," the Alpha Pack leader growled.
Gerard ignored Deucalion. "I've been receiving treatment. Six months. Six months before I'm completely incapacitated—bed-ridden, and helpless. Being fed through a tube. Shitting through one." He stopped, glaring at Noah. "One bite and it'll never happen."
It was perfectly logical. And completely horrifying.
Chris couldn't help himself. He stepped forward, into the dim light cast by battery-powered work lights, vibrating with fury. "That's why you did this?" he demanded. "That's why you endangered the rest of your family?"
Gerard gave him a twisted smile. "Son, I'd kill you if it would ensure my survival."
Chris believed him.
Icy stone breathlessness radiated out to every part of him. He had to shift feet he could barely feel in order to stay upright.
However, he was trained to work through shock (and whatever this was that was beyond shock). Chris lifted his chin.
He saw Bungalon signaling to the sheriff, and the sheriff twitched his fingers in response. The SWAT team was fanning out, taking cover in the darker edges of the building. Were they planning on shooting his father? Chris couldn't bring himself to care. There were a lot of darker edges, but they wouldn't slow the werewolves down any once they shifted. He reminded himself that werewolves weren't the enemy here.
"You broke the Code," he half-shouted, keeping his father's attention on him. "You kidnapped a kid—an innocent."
"He's hardly innocent," Gerard said. "He hangs out with monsters."
"You are the monster," Chris said, he looked at his father, hoping for a human reaction.
Gerard's lips lifted in a small smile. "Not yet," he crooned with smug triumph.
It made Chris want to punch his father for being exactly what Allison had accused them of. He couldn't, of course. Gerard was over there with Stiles helpless in his grasp, and Chris was stuck over here.
"He's a total psycho—" Gerard's arm squeezed Stiles' neck. "—path," the kid finished, croaking out the last syllable.
The kid was right.
By expressing a desire to be turned into a werewolf, Gerard had completely disavowed his rights as a human under the Code. Which meant Chris could kill him. No Hunter would think worse of him for doing it. In fact, if he was to salvage Silver Bullet Security's relationship with the law enforcement community, he had to do it.
Could he do it?
-o0o-
The sheriff was aware of his people spreading out around the area, carefully picking locations that would allow crossfire and total coverage of the space. Two of them had dragged the wounded twin further away from the main confrontation, but they couldn't reach Derek, who was bleeding out around the pole that impaled him. At the main entrance, he could hear Chris Argent's heart hammering as the man realized what his father had become. It was no faster than his son's fear-induced heartbeat.
In the corner, Ennis stirred. The alpha wolf rolled onto his side, coughing softly.
Gerard nodded in the downed Alpha's direction. "You should start with him, Sheriff, before he can defend himself."
"I'll kill you myself!" Kali screamed at Gerard. She ripped the pole out of Derek's body and threw it at him. Blood—Derek's blood—flew out from it spreading raggedly behind it. Derek fell over, silently curling up around his stomach.
"Foolish bitch," the hunter laughed, even as Derek's blood, fanning out from the pole in a ragged stream, hit his face. Gerard shifted to avoid the impromptu spear, which flew by them and into one of the support posts. It hit hard enough to shake the building.
In his arms, Stiles jerked away from the spray in horror, unbalancing Gerard a little. It was enough to loosen his grip on Stiles.
Not much, but enough?
It had to be...
"Stiles, drop!" Noah ordered. He put the full weight of being a father, a cop and an alpha into his voice, enough to break through to his panicking son.
A lot of the people in the building crouched lower in response, cops and werewolves alike. The sheriff didn't worry about them. What was important was that Stiles let himself go limp and slipped out of Gerard's hold. He flopped onto the floor and started frantically rolling away.
Gerard lifted the gun in Stiles' direction...
Noah's claws came out as he jumped in front of his son. He roared a challenge as he flew...
Chris Argent shot his father.
It was a good shot, a head shot.
Bungalon's went through the heart less than a second later.
"Are those brains?" Stiles muttered in horror. "Oh shit. Now I've got brains on me, too. Oh god."
He landed and let his heightened senses assess Stiles' condition, (physically okay. They'd deal with the rest later) before turning his attention back to the others in the old still.
The noise of the guns seemed to have brought Ennis fully back to the living. The sheriff had to ignore him for now, because Deucalion was expanding. His lupine features were becoming more defined as his humanity receded once again. Deucalion had wanted to kill Gerard. Looked like he wasn't happy with Chris for taking that from him. "He was supposed to suffer!"
Around the edges of the building, Noah saw the SWAT team members refocus their attention on the Alpha Pack leader as the next threat. There were too many threats spread out around him.
Man, he really wanted his gun...
"I remember you! I remember your smell!" Ennis roared. "You killed my mate!"
And he jumped at Chris Argent.