Warning: This chapter contains gore and minor character death.
Chapter Thirteen: What We Leave Behind
Lyra opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling. Anxiety shot through her body, making her skin prickle and her muscles tense.
She sat up, kicking away the covers. She stood up and went to the window, looking outside. When she didn't see anything, she felt an uneasy growl rumble in her chest.
"Lyra?" Derek murmured, rolling over to look at her. "What is it?"
Lyra's eyes flashed in the moonlight, and she began to pace, looking like a caged panther. Tension rolled off of her in waves, flooding the air with her unease.
"Something's wrong," she said in a low voice.
"What do you mean?" Derek asked, now fully awake. He threw his legs over the side of the bed, facing her.
Lyra shook her head. "I just know."
Then she turned, yanking open a dresser drawer to grab a pair of jeans before pulling them on. She pulled her hair into a tail, then changed shirts. She walked out of the room barefoot, ghosting down the stairway as silently as a ghost.
Derek cursed softly under his breath before following her.
It started to rain as Lyra and Derek ran through the woods together. Suddenly, they both caught a series of familiar and unfamiliar scents, making them exchange a glance.
"Fuck!" Lyra cursed before running into a full tilt sprint. And in the light of the nearly full moon, her body split apart to take the shape of her wolf. Then she all but disappeared as her speed increased with the new form, leaving Derek far behind.
Derek dug in, growling, and forced his body to its limit.
When he caught up, he burst into the clearing by the peak and stiffened, snarling terribly when he saw what was in front to of him.
Lyra was in a fit of rage, standing frozen with her hackles raised and fur standing straight up. Her muzzle was peeled back in a terrifying snarl, revealing her fangs, and her body shook with those guttural snarls. Her red eyes were locked on the man standing in the center of all the wolves, holding a knife to Matt's throat.
Derek snarled in turn, which shot up when he saw they were also holding Isaac.
Lyra's eyes snapped between Matt and Issac, before turning back to Peter. Her eyes seemed to bleed into a deeper shade of crimson, leaving behind any trace of purple or blue. Her paws dug into the earth, her claws digging furrows.
"Well, it's about time," Peter said calmly, giving her a smirk.
Lyra snarled, lunging forward a step.
"Ah, ah," Peter tsked, pressing the knife more closely to Matt's throat. "Stay. Good girl."
Matt, who was gagged, stated at his oldest friend, his eyes beseeching her silently.
Derek growled. "Peter. What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
Peter narrowed his eyes at his nephew. "What does it look like, Derek? I'm taking what's mine."
"And what's that?" Derek asked, even though he already knew the answer.
"All that power that's pumping through your wife's body. I'm the Alpha."
Lyra gave a low growl before straightening. She shifted back, but her eyes still blazed like fire. "Really? Right now all I see is a coward hiding behind a knife. If you want this power, Peter, come and get it from me. Fight me like the Alpha you claim to be."
Peter chuckled. "I'm not going to fight you, Lyra. You see, I made some friends on my journey. They're the ones who want a rematch."
A thin man stepped forward, holding Isaac, who was also bound and gagged. Isaac stared at Derek, then Lyra, his eyes wide.
"Hello again, Lyra. Remember me?"
Derek looked at Lyra in confusion.
Lyra paled. Her eyes flashed blue, then red, then back to blue. Her breathing grew shallow. "Y-You're that Omega... I almost... I..."
"So you do! I'm not surprised you don't remember my name. Let me introduce myself. I'm Cyrus. And you almost killed me. Remember that? You tore me apart and left me for dead."
Derek flinched when the thin wolf stepped into the moonlight. He was horribly scarred, his face torn by claw marks down the right side, giving him a permanent grimace.
Lyra's hands trembled. "I didn't mean to... I didn't know how to control it. I didn't want to hurt you..."
Cyrus laughed harshly. "Yeah, well, you did. Now I'm going to hurt you. Why don't I start with this one?" he challenged, lifting a clawed hand to Isaac's throat.
Ooo0ooO
Lyra was terrified.
Two men, both of whom she cared for deeply, were in danger, and it was her fault. Cyrus's claws dug into Isaac's pale throat, and the knife Peter held had pierced Matt's skin. A thin trickle of blood slid down his neck, bright red in the moonlight.
Her entire body trembled. She felt so close to losing control, like she had before. Her wolf snarled and raged inside her, wanting to rip apart Cyrus and Peter. It wanted to taste their blood and watch as the light left their eyes.
Her heart pounded, pushing more adrenaline through her body. Her eyes kept fluctuating between crimson red and pale purple, as she struggled with herself.
Suddenly, another chilling snarl tore through the trees.
With eyes as red as blood, Scott and Abby appeared, trailed by Kira and Malia, then the Argents, who were both holding crossbows loaded with silver tipped arrows.
Abby looked positivity demonic with her soft, pale blonde hair, and sweet features contorted into a fierce snarl and glowing eyes. Scott moved like a shadow, swiftly and silently, his eyes never leaving Peter. His entire body was tense, ready to pounce like a jungle cat.
Unfazed, Peter eyed Lyra. "So what's it going to be? Are you going to give me what I want, or are we going to have to kill your friends?"
"Don't, Lyra!" Isaac yelled, ignoring when Cyrus dug his claws in, cutting off his windpipe. He gagged and gasped.
Lyra stepped forward, her eyes heating up again. "Don't you touch them," she warned. Her body now shook with rage once more, which consumed her.
Cyrus's eyes flashed ice blue. "Then come get them, Alpha bitch."
There was a flash of movement and suddenly, Cyrus howled in pain as he cupped his face. Isaac winced when his head connected with the other wolf's nose, breaking it, before he pulled himself away.
Lyra caught him as he stumbled to her. She snarled when the other wolves shifted as if to grab him.
"Wrong choice," Peter said softly.
"No-!"
Peter dragged the knife deep into Matt's throat, before yanking it across the pale flesh, splitting it apart. Blood gushed and sprayed, dark and thick, coating Matt's chest and the ground.
Matt gagged once, his eyes wide and focused on Lyra, before he collapsed to his knees. His body convulsed before it slumped to the forest floor. His cheek smacked the already blood soaked ground, his eyes staring up at the moon unblinkingly.
A thin, high, and loud keen ripped through the air, followed by the sound of a long, deep tear. There was a flash of darkness that moved too quickly to be seen, then there was another tearing sound, but this was thick and wet.
Cyrus's body then too slumped to the ground, his throat completely torn out, leaving the head almost detached from the body.
Peter froze when he saw what was now standing in front of him.
Standing tall and dark as a nightmare, the werewolf hovered high over Peter, its milky red eyes staring into his with deadly intent. Its body was huge and powerful, even more than Peter's shifted form when he had been an Alpha. It nearly rivaled the twin's combined form, and it radiated hate and rage in a way that made the other wolves shrink back in fear.
There was no trace of Lyra. This was the beast she had been afraid of becoming. It was pure in its form, fueled by nothing but the instinct to kill, along with all of Lyra's pain and fear and hate. It was all the worse parts of her combined and now its focus was entirely on Peter.
"Oh my God," Abby breathed. "Lyra."
Then then younger Alpha did something unthinkable. She walked towards the werewolf, her eyes wide, but somehow unafraid.
The werewolf raised its clawed hand, ready to strike Peter down.
"Lyra, no!"
The beast froze, snarling as it looked over its shoulder. It growled deeply, threateningly.
But Abby was her own Alpha, so the warning from the larger Alpha did not deter her. Her eyes changed back to a gentle shade of blue. She forced herself not to look at the body at her feet, even as pain tore through her.
The other wolves scattered when they saw the large werewolf was distracted. Peter tried to call them back, but he was cut off when the tall beast grabbed his throat, lifting him high in the air. He stared into its eyes and felt his own rage and jealousy storm through him. This situation should be the other way around! He should be holding the bitch's life in his hands.
"Lyra," Abby said, trying to reach the human side of the werewolf. "Lyra, listen to me. You need to shift back. This isn't... this isn't what Matt would have wanted."
Abby bit back a cry. His body wasn't even cold and she was already speaking about him like he had been dead for years rather than minutes.
The large wolf threw Peter, sending him crashing into a tree, causing the bark to splinter and give. It snarled and growled, as if cursing. It strode over and picked up Peter and began ramming him into the trunk.
"Lyra!"
The werewolf stiffened at Isaac's voice. It dropped Peter, who was now unconscious and barely alive. It kept its back towards the others, its massive shoulders heaving with deep, hallow breaths that slowly changed into low, miserable whimpers.
Then it threw its head back, howling so deeply, the ground shook. Everyone, wolf or otherwise, heard and felt the pain in the cry, which tore through the air and echoed into the night.
The werewolf than began to shrink into itself, turning into a full wolf, before black fur gave way to tan skin and whimpers changed into deep, pained sobs.
Abby looked at Derek only briefly. "Get the body. I'll get my sister."
Derek nodded once, grim, but his eyes echoed his wife's pain. He wanted to go to her, to hold her, and then to kill Peter, to slit his throat and make things even, but instead he did as he was told because in the end, that's all he could make his body do.
The others turned and ran after the other wolves, tracking them with sharp noses and skilled eyes. But it was Isaac who grabbed Peter and dragged him away, only looking back once to look at Lyra, who was now screaming.
Ooo0ooO
Lyra felt like she was dying. She couldn't breathe or think or see, but she could feel, and God, she wished she couldn't feel a damn thing.
She grabbed at the grass, her nails digging into the ground, and her body shook, nearly spasming from the sobs that shook her body. She screamed as her heart clenched and tore in half, she screamed when the tears finally came, gushing down her face in thick rivulets.
She barely heard or recognized her sister's voice calling out her name, she didn't feel the hands on her back. She barely noticed when Abby pulled her into her arms, rocking her soothingly.
But when she did, she grabbed onto her sister almost desperately. Lyra buried her face into her sister's neck, still crying, still screaming. Her dirt covered hands clenched Abby's and together, the sisters mourned the loss of their friend and oldest pack member.
Lyra didn't remember how she blacked out, only that one second she was in so much agony she thought she would burst, then the next, there was nothing but blackness and silence.
When she opened her eyes again, she recognized the ceiling above her head. She burst into tears, her mind racing, thinking of how the last time she woke up like this, it was because she knew something was going to happen and Matt... Matt was still alive.
"Matty," she choked, rolling onto her side, curling into herself.
A gentle hand rested on her shoulder, then something pricked her arm.
"Sleep, Lyra," Deaton's calm voice soothed her. "Sleep."
So she did.
Derek watched as his wife slipped into unconsciousness again from the doorway of their bedroom.
Deaton stood, meeting the other man's gaze. "She'll be all right, Derek. She just needs to rest."
"Why did she pass out before?" Derek said, his voice thick with worry.
Deaton sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "I believe that the trauma of...losing Matt caused her body to simply shut down. It's all very triggering for her, you understand. She's got the past trauma, now coupled with this loss..." He shook his head, trailing off.
"Is there anything I can do for her?"
"For now, make sure she rests. The rest... only time will tell. She's incredibly strong. I think she'll pull through this."
Of course she will, Derek almost said. She's lost more before.
But he didn't.
Instead, he moved across the room, sitting down on the bed beside her. He brushed the hair away from her tear streaked face. He leaned down, kissing her temple. "I love you," he whispered. "I'll be here when you wake up."
And she kept sleeping dreamlessly, and Derek knew when she woke up, it would be hard for her. Abby was already preparing for the funeral, throwing herself into taking care of business and the others as a means of distracting herself.
Something told Derek that when the time came, the two sisters would mourn by themselves, in their own way, to honor the man who had been Pack along before the rest of them came into the picture.
Ooo0ooO
Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf.
Author's Note: This story is going to get darker as we go forward. If there's any potential triggers, there'll be notes at the start of the chapter.
Please review!