Jackson wasn't in his grave. If Lydia had hearing like the rest of them she would've went for Marco like a dog with rabies. At least that's what Stiles said to justify why they needed to take her straight home in silence.
It made the whole thing feel almost trivial to Marco. But still, dangerous.
More than dangerous. A little alarming.
Especially since—
"Marco ripped his throat out? How is he not there?!" Stiles panicked as he drove the blue trash heap out of Beacon Hills way past the speed limit.
Everyone shrugged. Marco remained still in the passenger seat.
"Marco— do Zombie Shifters exist? Please…. Please tell me—"
"No. They don't." Marco replied flatly.
Everyone in the car eyed him.
"Well!?"
"Either someone dug him up- or he was just barely alive after we fought him. If it's the first, this could be the remaining Alpha pack's work. Or a new threat. If it's the latter, he's not far. Or very capable of anything." Marco explained.
"A new threat…." Scott reeked with anxiety in the back seat as he held Alison's hand.
"Unlikely." Marco said, "We would've been able to tell. Because if they got Jackson they knew he was there somehow from us or people close to us. If they got that close we would've sensed them. We didn't."
"So Alpha pack or barely alive Kanima."
"He may not be a Kanima."
Stiles swallowed audibly, "I need therapy for this shi—"
***
When they arrived at the warehouse just outside of Beacon Hills, there was no fire and destruction surrounding the imagined corpses of Derek, Victoria and the others.
There were no Demon Wolves or red eyed amalgamated beasts.
Just gravel roads swirling around the industrial metal landscape.
The sun was setting. The air was cold as Marco opened the door and stepped out into the evening.
He could hear the others talking inside. Planning. Still in work mode.
The others rushed out of the car and into the building. Marco watched them blow past him, feeling how differently they faced the situation in that moment.
He suddenly remembered what Anhur and Bastet said again.
"Now you wonder…. What do you wonder?"
He didn't know in that moment, but they said he was beginning to.
He was.
He had— already.
He stepped into the training facility. Familiar smells and sights welcomed him under the cover of darkness. It shifted and danced over car-hoods and shelves of Warlock weaponry as warehouse bulbs on strings swung.
Everyone stood in a circle in the center of the room.
Derek handed Scott and Stiles blades. Alison caught a crossbow thrown her way by Erica. Victoria spoke with Boyd and Isaac.
He remembered the first time he presented weapons to them. It felt like years ago suddenly.
"Marco, what are you doing?" Derek questioned.
He finished his walk over, noticing Deaton staring at him intensely.
"So what's the plan?" Victoria questioned.
"I say we split into groups and scan the desert. He couldn't have gone far if it's him."
"And if it isn't?" Deaton questioned.
"We would've seen signs of other people…" Scott started.
"Yea, didn't you say you saw no extra foot prints… tire marks. Anything?" Stiles questioned.
"He could fly…." Isaac mumbled.
Marco spoke before everyone's eyes could eventually fall on him, "Who knew him the most."
Scott and Stiles spoke up.
"Then everyone should follow your lead."
Stiles looked like he saw a rabbit kill a rhinoceros.
"If it's Jackson, he'll be moving off his own memories and impulses. Even if he's…. Not himself entirely. If it's the Alpha pack, you both have experience fighting them. If it's something else, you have numbers."
Deaton smiled. To himself more than anything while everyone that knew Marco processed his unconventional response.
"That….. makes sense." Derek started.
"Let's get to it then. He's already got a head start. Or they do. Either way, we're behind." Victoria said.
Everyone headed out.
Marco remained standing still. He watched them head for the door in silence. Different from when he first met them. Fully Synthesized. Aware of the real world and its consequences. Strong. How he'd imagined them before he got to the western world.
"So… you've finally realized it?"
Marco almost jumped at Deaton's words that seemed to speak to his thoughts directly. Thoughts he'd been passively having all day. The Druid-Wolf was as perceptive as ever.
"What?"
"You've done everything. Everything you set out to do is done. The Warlocks are a memory to few. Gerard the genocidal hunter is ashes. The Kanima scourge has been reduced to bait or hobbles on its last leg. You've more or less ascended to godhood. You've brought together the pack you dreamt of for its power and effectiveness. You've done it all."
Marco watched Scott, Stiles and Derek remain at the door as the others exited the building.
"But like I said..."
"Dig two graves." Marco finished Deaton's previous sayings about men in search of revenge.
"What is he talking about?" Scott questioned.
"I'm not joining you guys tonight." Marco looked down at the ashen markings engraved in his arm.
"W-what was he saying about revenge?" Stiles questioned, inquisitive as ever. "Are you dying?"
"I've been dying for a long time." Marco replied, "But to finish what they…. The Warlocks… the Alphas…. started, I upped the pace. I've got months left. I... I feel it. They're telling me to return home for a reason. I have many….. reasons."
The three headed back over to them at the prospect of death.
"Hold on— we have a Druid… we have beastiaries. We can find a cure im sure…. Hell, you're a Grey Lion. You guys are tough…"
"I've been tough enough to hold multiple sparks for years. But I'm not immortal. I'm being burned alive."
"How many…?" Derek questioned. "How many are you holding?"
"Too many. If I keep going I'll end up being piloted by old ghosts. I knew I wouldn't do this for long. As long as I got the job done. I did…. And then some."
"So what…? You're just going to go die? Look man you were… an ass at times but…we have to try something." Scott said. "You're only seventeen."
"Sixteen." Marco corrected.
"You were a year younger than us this whole time? Of course. Is there anything you can't do?"
"Live to seventeen."
Stiles went slack jawed before quickly recovering, sadness in his face despite his smile, "Absolute worst time to make your first joke."
"You never answered my first question." Scott repeated.
Marco sighed, "Yea. I'm going to die. But I have one more wrong to right before then. Then it's all complete. Everything the Warlocks did…. I can undo it."
"What..." Scott clenched his jaw, "Marco we need you."
"Every pack needs an Alpha. This one has two. Whatever rose from that grave stands no chance."
"What about Erica and Boyd… and Victoria?"
"She'll be a good leader. Her past as a hunter and experience as a mother will aid her."
"Deaton— say something!" Scott pressed.
"He knew this was coming." Derek commented, almost in a whisper.
"I'm sorry this is what it had to be, Marco." Deaton said.
"I'm not."
Deaton nodded with a smile, "I knew you'd say that."
"So… what?" Scott questioned.
"Go on with your life. I will do the same. You're stronger— you're not as much of a child anymore... no, you've matured. You helped me avenge my family…. Sort of. Thank you. All of you."
Marco shook their hands, there were no heavy tears or wailing sobs. He wasn't their best friend. He was the juggernaut. He was a Beast that stumbled into Beacon Hills— a great wounded animal they flocked to for protection— out of curiosity, fear. But the wounds were beginning to fester and deepen beyond repair.
"I think…. If I wasn't as I am, we would've gotten along."
But he could've been more…
"Your final check is at the Vet. You'll find a little extra as help on your travels... not that you need it." Deaton announced.
Marco shook his hand, "Goodbye, Druid."
"Rest easy, Menes. You've earned peace."
"Not yet I haven't."
And just like that, The Beast Pack of Beacon Hills went one way. Marco went the other. In more ways than one…
***
The night was more silent than ever. A prelude to the peace he thirsted for— not just for himself. He basked in the silence as he ran. Fully transformed and without clothing. He didn't need it. He wouldn't need anything of human creation ever again. He let go of it with an excitement you would've seen in children during holidays. Minus and smiles and shrieks. He settled for explosive leaps and swinging from the trees as the odd car or two careened down the roads running beside him.
The winds combed through his fur like the hands of his people. All the while their voices pushed against the walls of his skull as if the space was growing too small.
They wished to be free as he wished for silence.
They grew restless as their debt stood paid and limbo held them.
An unholy inbetween.
"How fitting." He growled to himself as he landed at an intersection.
Limbo.
The middle spacing. Surrounded by roads and journeys all at the same point.
The beginning and end.
A car came whistling down the street, fresh off the highway based on the heat emanating from its tires. A heat that told him to get moving.
He continued his trip home, giving himself a final challenge. He avoided the forest cover and stayed among the roads and buildings, evading the lights and liquid glimmer of human eyeballs spinning to follow his shape.
There were times where the lights of cars and street signs became the sun of his homeland— the crackling fire of his kinds gatherings. The rustle of newspapers in alleyways was the distant growls and snappings of his brothers and uncles sparring.
Another prelude.
Marco made it home faster than he ever had. And his home wasn't even where he needed to be.
He turned and walked up another thirty feet on the sidewalk.
Kat's house loomed. He could smell her inside. She still listened to the news about the Blue-Eyed Beast. She still thirsted for answers. The smell of fresh sweat on her skin told him she still thirsted for the power to rewrite history as well.
Everyone thirsted for power. But so few could be expected to quench that thirst…. and in doing so better the lives of others.
Marco couldn't do that.
She could.
He went inside. And when he left, he was wiping the faintest remnants of blood off his black lips.
"You'll see again…. And the world will be unlike what you remembered. I hope you do as good as I think you will as a Grey Lion, Kat."