XXXXXXXXXX
The next morning, Stiles and I are hunched together over some books in the Pack Den. We still have no idea what the hell I am, (besides psychic), and my whole run in with Isaac proved just how dangerous that could be. I can't afford to be overwhelmed like that again, not when lives might be on the line. There will be. I shiver. We're also trying to determine if the bus driver was a random attack, or if there is some kind of connection between him and the alpha, something that is getting more likely by the moment. This is especially true considering how the bus driver seemed to recognize Derek when he visited.
Derek is sitting quietly near us, watching us work, and occasionally handing us items we need, or pinning things up for Stiles on his new murder board which is taking up a large portion of the den wall. Scott ditched us for Allison, but that's fine. I'm happy he's happy, and the intel is important. I'm just slightly worried about his priorities.
I'm thinking about bringing a few people in on the supernatural. It sounds nuts, but in the long term, it makes sense. Scott and I aren't going to suddenly become human again, it doesn't work like that, and Sunya and Mama Mel have already noticed something's up. I always used to let my baby hang out with Scott, Stiles, and I, and now I'm bringing someone she doesn't know home and icing her out. Yeah, she is really young, but not stupid, and I'm certain she can keep her mouth shut better than Stiles, at least. She looks sad and lonely every time I see her, and Mama Mel is already big time concerned. I think she thinks we're on drugs or something. It won't be long until Papa Sheriff picks up on something, especially with Derek living with Stiles and him. Our current situation just isn't sustainable.
I haven't mentioned this to any of the pack yet because I'm pretty sure it would be a very hard no from basically everyone. Derek doesn't trust anyone, albeit he has made progress with Stiles and I, especially after last night's epic show. Stiles and Scott will think they are protecting their parents, but leaving them in the dark means that if something happens, they won't be prepared to handle it. It's an issue for later.
We have to go down to the station to talk to the sheriff about last night and I plan to start setting the stage for Isaac's rescue. I sigh, and shake my fingers, trying to ease the slight tremble, but there is just so much to deal with right now. I'm a little pathetic. It's so easy to deal with other people's problems and emotions, to be detached and logical, but I always fall apart under the force of my own. Block it out, shove it down, don't think about it.
I startle when I feel a body press into each of my sides. Stiles and Derek sandwich me where I sit on the floor. Stiles takes one of my shaky hands in his, and after a moment Derek copies him. Pack. I feel relief flood me. Not alone.
"We have you, Moonshine," Stiles murmurs softly, pressing his head to mine. I huff a laugh at another nickname I've picked up recently. Terms of endearment are free flowing between us, as I've never believed in hiding my affection for people, and I definitely rubbed that off on Stiles and Scott. The boys are particularly fond of referencing the Arabic meaning of my name, which translates to night, or just using Arabic straight up. There was once a hilarious incident in which Stiles tried to call me his heart, but botched it, and accidentally called me a bitch. God, we still haven't let him live that down. Good times.
Our moment is broken when banging comes ffim upstairs. Scotty comes bounding down like his tail is on fire. Wait, do they have tails? I haven't got a close up yet. I'll ask Stiles if he's seen one later.
"Dudes! Stiles's dad just arrested Allison's dad! He said that Mr. Argent attacked you guys! We gotta do something!"
"Like what, celebrate?" I wonder, a bit mystified by my best friend right now. Did he forget who shot him? I get a flash from both Stiles and then Derek. Glee. Excited firefly's fill a twilight sky, the last rays or red, orange, gold fire arcing across the sky and disappearing into night. Then, a dark forest comes alive with dappled light filtering through dense canopy, warm rays hitting dark, thick fur.
"What? No! Allison's heartbroken!" I wait for an image from Scott, but all I get is that he is confused and indignant on her behalf. It kinda pisses me off.
I slowly climb to my feet before turning to Scott, and drawl, "So. You don't care that we, your pack, were attacked by hunters. You care that Allison, who you met only weeks ago, is sad."
I don't say it with any particular emotion, but I'm told there is a certain kinda quiet before the storm when I'm mad, and Scotty knows me well enough to know this is it. He immediately goes into damage control.
"Shit, I didn't mean it like that! I wasn't thinking,-"
"You weren't. You also would know about the situation if you had stopped making out for a moment and read any of our messages, or picked up the phone." I say, calmly. Both Derek and Stiles are cringing in anticipation of an explosion that won't happen. That's because, truthfully, I'm not that angry. There is a whisper in my ear telling me that I have to nip this in the bud now, or risk the fall of the pack. We stand united, or die. I have to address this, like yesterday.
"Look, Scott, I'm happy you're happy, truly. But, the hunters? Those are our enemies. They shot you without hesitation in the woods, and they murdered Derek's entire family, burning them alive, even the humans and children. They aren't the good guys. They won't ever be the good guys. Chris Argent? How much blood do you think is on his hands? How easily do you think he'd kill us because of something we have no control over, something that was done to us.
Yesterday, he surrounded and tried to intimidate Derek, our fucking packmate who just lost the last of his family, and proceeded to vandalize his car, because he's werewolf. Which he was born as. That's a fucking hate crime."
Scott perks up at this, as though he wants to disagree, but then ends up opening and closing his mouth several times trying to find a flaw in my logic. He can't. He shrinks under my gaze a bit, and I remind myself that no matter how fast I grew up, Scott isn't like me. He wasn't traumatized into a mini adult. He didn't have to raise himself, and be a parent to a younger sibling. He's just a 16 year old teenage boy, and most are far bigger dickheads than this.
I sigh, "I need you to understand some things. While I will always support you in everything, I can't, at this moment, approve of what you're doing. There are only two reasons I haven't fought you on Allison, and stopped Derek from doing so. The first, and primary one is because I don't think trying to stop you would work. It would just divide us and lead to disaster. While she seems like a genuinely decent girl," he seems to puff up a bit in pride, "that honestly doesn't mean shit."
He deflates, and I feel terrible that I'm about to crush him, but I was never going to keep my machinations a secret. I continue, "The second is because I can keep an eye on the hunters like this." Scott recoils.
"Wha- Layla! You can't-!" He starts.
"The hell I can't, " I snarl. "I'm not asking you to do anything. I'm just taking the dangerous situation we are now in, and turning it into something less negative. If you were to dump Allison today, and never speak to her again, I'd be perfectly satisfied."
I soften, seeing the distress on his face. "I'm not telling you to date someone and play with them so we can get information," I make a mental note of the flinch in Derek's bonds, "I'm just telling you that I'll be watching to see what kind of person she is, and that hopefully we'll get a warning if the hunters decide to move on us. Just keep your eyes open, and please, little brother, be careful."
"Yeah, okay, that's fair. You're just finding a silver lining. It wasn't like I wasn't already going to be watching her family anyway," he is still hunched. "I'm sorry, so sorry I pulled us into this."
"We made it clear we would follow you all the way to hell, dumbass," says Stiles, speaking for the first time. Leave it to Stiles to break the atmosphere. I send my love through the bond. I send it to Scotty, too.
"You still have an apology to make," I point out gently, stepping aside for him to pass me to the rest of our pack. He nods, completely recognizing his own douchery.
"Derek," Scott steps up, and in a truly remorseful manner, bares his throat, "you tried to help me, and keep us all safe, and I threw it in your face. I was also callous. I'm sorry." I grin, because one of the best things about Scott was how kind he was, and how willing he was to accept his own mistakes. Rare qualities.
Derek, who had frozen in surprise, shakes himself dazedly and reaches out with a clawed hand, looking like he was acting more on instinct than anything. He grips Scotty's throat for a second, before palming it, and releasing with a tense nod.
Scott sighs in relief, before smiling at us, and bouncing off to work. I remind him, sharply, to pick up his damn phone, the Alpha is still hunting. He sheepishly agrees, and disappears.
I still need to talk to him about accepting the bite, but that can wait. I'm so fucking tired.
XXXXXSTILESXXXXX
I look at Layla. My best friend, my confidant, and my very home. She looks like a queen. Regal, beautiful, strong, but like she's holding the weight of the world. It's awful, because I know the bite was so hard on her, regardless of how she acted, but I'm so grateful that we could have these pack bonds. I can finally tell how she feels.
Layla has always been too good at hiding her emotions, even from herself. Yeah, ok, we basically share a brain, but I couldn't read her if she didn't even acknowledge her own feelings. The worst part is she's so open about certain things that it's easy to miss. She doesn't believe that showing affection and caring about others is a vulnerability, so she doesn't bother to hide it. But sadness? Anxiety? Pain? I'd never know if she didn't want me to, and she never wants to acknowledge the things that hurt her, as if doing so, speaking it aloud, would make it real.
It's not that she never tells us what's wrong. It's just that she tries too hard to deal on her own, and it makes me feel like she can't rely on us. We usually only find out her hurts when she can't handle them anymore. Why does she have to fall apart before we get to help her? Why can't I stop my queen from kneeling in the first damn place? But these bonds? None of us can hide anymore. I can finally be useful to her, to give her back even a fraction of the support she has always given me.
As much as Scott is my brother, as much as I love him, the bond between Layla and I is next level. We think so alike, and the trust is unconditional. Scott… his morals are different. He believes in the best of everyone. It's not bad at all. In fact, its one of his greatest attributes. But it's naive, at least to Layla and I. Scott will push and tug, and keep us on the right path. He won't let us get lost, or go too far. But that means he will always question us, and that's ok.
I shake myself to attention to see Layla approach. Dark brown waves of silky hair highlighted with copper and mahogany. Dark brown eyes, with almost gold flecks. Broad and high cheekbones, light olive skin, dimples on eternity chubby cheeks, and it's all set on a small but curvy figure. It makes for an exotic and unique look, and I'm pretty sure the only reason she hasn't taken over the school is because she can't be bothered, and has no desire to leave us losers behind.
She's looking at Derek with that steady look in her eyes. The one that means she is bracing herself to tackle more emotional bullshit. I look at Derek and understand why.
A stupidly handsome face with a razor sharp jaw, electric eyes and a dangerous aura. A body carved like stone and sex appeal that gave me my bisexual awakening. I have to shake myself to refocus, again. Pretty people+ ADHD= fucking issues.
Derek looks distressed, and I'm immediately snapping to attention. His hands are trembling and his eyes wide, his bond shut tight. He looks lost.
"Derek, what do you need?" Layla says, stopping next to me and grabbing my hand.
Derek makes an aborted move, and then a noise I've never heard from him, an almost high pitched keening. A whine.
"Whoa, come on, big guy, we got you, " I say as softly as possible, raising a hand in placation.
That seems to be all he needs before he's pouncing on us. I flail as I'm knocked onto the couch and Layla is sprawled onto my lap, before we're crowded into the cushions. Oh god, oh god. Why does this feel like the beginning of a supernatural porno. Holy-.
"Um, is this a werewolf thing? Are you turning into a cuddlewolf. Not that I'm complaining! I'm totally cuddle with cuddles. We love cuddles. Cuddles are gr-great," I stutter a bit as Derek's nose runs along the line of my throat to a ticklish spot behind my ear. I'm not mentally prepared for this shit!
"Shut up," Derek growls in his typical Sourwolf way, but I can feel the stress leaking from the pack bonds, (and dear God I can't believe that this is amplified for Layla all the time from everyone, what the fu-). I can't help the flush on my pale skin, (no it's not lily white, I don't care what that foundation bottle said, Midnight!), that not even Layla could miss at this distance. It's fucking hard to focus on what's hurting Derek when he's nuzzling Layla and making her make that cute squeaking, and fuck, they look stunning togeth- No! Think sad puppies, crying babies, ugly toads, not how Layla is arcing into me to get away from the ticklish feeling Derek's hands on h- fuck!.
"Derek, what." Layla says flatly, (too much time with Sourwolf, dammit woman, emote!), hiding her face and I can probably count the amount of times on one hand that I've seen her lose composure like this in nearly a decade of friendship. God what I wouldn't give see a blush-
"I'm scenting." Ah, marking and mixing the scent of pack-wait, he sees us as pack!
Derek stands suddenly, and backs away like we burnt him, and damn, it kinda hurts because I know he still doesn't trust us yet. Not fully. Not even after the Great Hunter Demolition. I don't have to be Layla to tell that Derek is trauma, wrapped in issues, soaked in emotional constipation, but… he's kind. I want to be there for him. I want to be pack.
"Derek." Layla turns, but doesn't bother to move out of my lap and I try to ignore the warm skin under my fingers, but I'm not dead, so…
"I loved Laura, still do,… but I think she blamed me," Derek says out of fucking nowhere, "She was right to. I think she tried not to let it show, but she rarely ever scented me anymore. In New York, we never expanded the pack even though an alpha usually needs three betas to stabilize. It felt like a punishment, like staying on the edge of feral was penance for what happened. Maybe she was punishing herself, too.
I didn't come here for pack. I didn't expect to find people who could give a shit about me in the place that took everything from me, again and again. I don't deserve it,…if you knew- everything I touch dies. When you find out, I'm going to be alone again."
Layla clenches her hand on mine, and I do my best to soothe the pain I feel coming for every pack bond other than Scott's. My heart aches.
"Derek, the fire wasn't your fault," Derek rears back, but Layla regally silences him with a single raised hand, "No, it wasn't. You didn't trap them inside and burn the place down, and you didn't want to hurt anyone. I know that something happened, though." It was pretty obvious, we put it together days ago. Derek flinches, and I can feel his bond blow wide open in panic and fear. He expects us to abandon him.
Layla breathes, trying to work through the flood of emotions that aren't just hers. "You did something, lost control, or told the wrong person something, and the hunters went after your family, " Derek is curled in on himself, devastation and terror written on his face, and I'm probably bruising the girl in my arms, but it's all I can do not to stop her, or go to him. "But it's still not your fault, you Sillywolf."
Derek freezes, and everything stops for a minute, before he makes a punched out noise, and covers his face with his hands, visibly shaking apart, "but my eyes-,"
"Are blue as a sign of guilt over a life, probably innocent, that you ended. We know, you gave us several bloody books, idiot. Still don't give a fuck, fool. We want you," Layla pauses to elbow me in the side over my snickering, but huffs a laugh, " we want you in our pack. For as long as you let us have you. You're good, Derek Hale, I know it."
Layla holds out her hand to him calmly as he gapes at us, and I give him my best shit eating grin, cuz I can't even help it. His face-he looks so fragile and it's like the first time I'm actually seeing him. I struggle to keep smiling and not to tear up.
Gently, like he's worried he'll break it, he takes her hand. Then, because she has the biggest balls of steel in fucking existance, she promptly flops back on the couch we're sitting on, and takes both Derek and I with her.
We end up with my head on her chest, (Oh God), and Derek mostly on top of us like a live blanket, head buried under my chin and in her side. If our shirts get a bit damp, no one mentions it.
And Layla, because of course she does, propmptly knocks the fuck out, leaving me to fight my own hormones off in this fantasy-worthy situation. The fucking audacity!
XXXXXLAYLAXXXXX
The Monday after our first, (of many), cuddle therapy sessions with Derek, Allison publicly corners me in the hall before class. I'm worried for a second, because I'm confident in by ability smack a bitch, but not stupid enough to think I can take a girl whose probably been training as a hunter from the overies. Luckily, she just apologizes very sincerely for the whole thing with her father. Deciding I don't want this to cause problems for her, and that she is innocent of the situation, I loudly declare that none of this is her fault, and that I know she isn't a racist. I hope it's enough for the rumor mill, and she seems to know what I was going for because she almost cries in gratitude. She sits with us at lunch from then on.
It's about a week later, and almost Scott's second full moon. Everything has been going well. The pack is growing close, and making plans and training together. Derek is pretty tough on Scott, but he's learning quickly, and becoming a bit of a badass. Honestly, I'd rather Derek be a hardass than see Scott hurt. We have to be ready. The alpha comes.
To be honest, not much has outwardly changed in Derek's behavior. He's still a big Sourwolf. He does, however, touch us more. A smack up Stiles head, a kick to knock Scott off his favorite spot on the coffee table, a yank on my neck when he thinks I'm gonna walk into something, (I saw the chair there, dammit! I don't need to give it a 5ft berth to avoid it, thank you very much!).
Stiles and I are training, too. Derek has been trying to help Stiles learn how to at least survive a werewolf attack, and Stiles is helping me practice magic. We still don't know what I am, but we've decided that I'm at least somewhat psychic, and that I'm also a bit of magical bullshit, and that's a start. We are going all over trying to trigger visions, and practice how to get through them safely, mentally and physically. It's easier now that I know what to expect, and the blind period afterwards gets shorter every time. And if I relish those few seconds where I can see the world in vibrant color and high definition? Well, no one has to know.
Today, we're trying to explore my floaty orbs. It's been 3 hours and I still haven't managed to trigger one. I'm tired, but also desperate. Something's coming, and I need to be able to protect them.
"What are we missing?" Stiles groans loudly smacking his head on the table, "Maybe wave your hands harder! Oh, do jazz hands!"
I snort, shaking my head, "No, there's a lime, I'm drawing it at jazz hands." Stiles pouts.
"Well, what did you do before?"
"Don't remember!" I say cheerfully. Stiles groans again, giving me a lot of judgy energy.
"Guess you don't have the power of God and anime on your side." Did he just… oh, it's fucking on!
"Why the fuck you lying, why you always lying? Oh, oh my god, stop fucking lying, or I'm finna drop you like my croissant," I sing.
"But you can't see, you're legally blind," Fuck, that one was good.
"Boy if you don't get- you gonna need some milk" Take that!
"That was legitness," Stiles admits.
"Yaaasssss," I finish, smug as hell.
"Did you guys just seriously have a meme war?" comes Derek from behind us. Both him and Scott have stopped beating each other to watch us.
"You meme?" Scott screeches like his whole concept of reality has been shaken, "How old are you?!"
Derek gets this look in his eyes, and I feel mischief afoot, before he says, "9+10"
Stiles and I don't miss a beat and end up pointing and shrieking at the top of our lungs, "21!"
Derek snorts, "No, you are so dumb, you're really dumb, actually it's 19."
"Wait, WHAT?!" Stiles is actually hurting my ears now, "but you told my dad…YOU DON'T FUCKING LOOK 19!"
"Jesus, Stiles, some of us aren't deaf. Werewolves mature quicker than humans and stay young, and alive longer. We end up faking a lot of paperwork," he shrugs.
"I like turtles," is all I can really say to that, dumbstruck. That sets the pack off, and we spend the next half hour in tears on the ground like the fucking kids we are, even though we got places to be.
XXXXXXXXXX
That night, I dream of walking in the preserve. I thought it was weird the first time because I rarely ever dream, but this is the third night in the row, and it's always the same.
I walk until I see a huge tree stump. Then I climb the roots and sit on the stump. A cut appears on my hand and blood drips down, and then I wake up. Tonight is different. When the cut appears, it burns.
I recoil, and very suddenly realize I'm not dreaming. Not if I can feel pain. I launch myself off the stump, just as it starts to fucking glow.
Glowy magic thring of unknown origin, purpose and power? One that influences me while unconsidered unconscious? This is not good, very fucking not good!
I whip around, trying to figure out where hell I am, and when I look back, the tree is just…gone. Oh, fuck this shit, I'm out! I bolt.
I'm alone. In the woods. In the middle of the night. Where the alpha that could be after me killed Derek's sister. Apparently, Sleepytime Layla didn't see fit to bring a phone a phone on her nighttime erxpedition, (Fuck that bitch! Who even does that?),
so I'm starting to panic.
I need to find a way home, before I die. I need to get out of here! Hope blooms into my chest when I feel a familiar tingle, and I throw my hands out.
An orb forms. I swear it better not have been the jazz hands-. I run after it, ignoring the cuts appearing on my feet and the branches that nick me as I go past. I'm probably leaving blood everywhere, but I don't pause for a second. I start to frantically tug on my pack bonds, and Stiles and Scott are coming to, but Derek is up, and is rather alarmed. Then, I get a bad feeling. I hear a gunshot. Derek is gonna be hurt. And I have no way to warn him.
I push myself faster, but I know I'm not gonna make it. I'm frantically pulling on every bond I've got, and let out a scream of pain in frustration when I tumble into a ditch. I feel Stiles and Scott closing in, and I pull myself up to keep running.
After a fair amount of time, I make it to the road just as Stiles and Scott roll up. The orb dissipates andI I throw myself into the back just as pain lances through our packbonds.
"NO!" I shriek. I'm too late. I failed him. Wait, there is still time. Barring my teeth in concentration, I think back to earlier tonight and the day Scott had his nightmare. I need to find Derek, and I need Scott and Stiles to see.
I slap the boys upside the head just as the orb forms again, brighter than ever, "Step on it!"
XXXXXXXXXX