XXXXXXXXXX
I sigh, as I hang up the phone on my mother. Don't get me wrong, I love her, but it's already been a year since I last saw her and my stepdad, and I feel like I've raised myself, and now I'm raising Sunya. Apparently, they're making really good money in Europe, so they're going to extend their trip again. And now I'm the one who's going to have to tell my sister, again, that her parents aren't coming home.
My father died several years ago, and my mother ended up having a streak of rather traumatizing, failed relationships, one of which led to Sunny. She finally seems to have struck gold with her latest husband, though. I like him, and so far, he hasn't proved to be a complete rat bastard, but he's definitely not my father, who I did love very much, even if he wasn't really a good husband. I'm too old to accept a new father, and lord knows I've had too many bad experiences to try, but he does his best to be there for Sunya, and I respect that a ton.
He's some kind of business mogul, and he treats my mother rather well, but because of that, they aren't really around a lot. I get it, I do. Most of my childhood was spent just above the poverty line, so I understand my mom's desperation to make sure that we can be economically supported, but I do miss her. She might have terrible luck, be incredibly indecisive, and a bit impulsive, but it's undeniable that she loves us. She has worked two jobs for us, gone back to school, and even remarried in an effort to provide for us, so I can't complain. Even if there is a little voice in the back of my head that sounds suspiciously like Mama Mel saying I shouldn't have to raise Saniya and myself.
"Was that mom?" Sunya must have come in when I was distracted. She sounds hopeful. "When are they catching the flight."
"Listen, sweetie," I say slowly, pulling her onto my lap even though she's probably too big for that now, Mom got a few really important new contracts in France and Belgium so –"
"She's not coming home, is she?" My little baby sister sounds so cold when she says it, like she expected nothing else, and I feel that spark of hope get completely crushed.
"No, she isn't." I agree with her. "But maybe-"
"Stop. I don't wanna hear it anymore. I know she's trying to make money so we can live well, but I miss her. She probably doesn't want us anymore." She says this with little clenched fists and a devastated sob.
"Whoa, Baby! Where on earth did you get that?" I yelp in surprise. I knew she was a little frustrated, but I didn't realize how much. I might have failed her in this. "It's not like that! Look, I know you don't understand this because you were really young at the time, or even before you were born, but Mom struggled a lot to make sure we had the things we needed. It was really hard back then, and she just doesn't want that for us now."
I know it's asking a fucking lot of an six-year-old to understand this really fucked situation, but I don't know what else to do. She's usually so accepting of our circumstances, but in the end, she's just a little girl, and there's only so much she can be expected to toldrate.
"Even still, is this really okay? For her to be gone like this?" She asks, tears dripping down her chubby cheeks. Clouds cover a glowing morning sky, and the warm happy breeze is gone. Wildflowers wither and die.
In the end, I don't have an answer for her.
XXXXXXXXXX
Today is parent teacher conferences. I'm pretty much straight A, and Top Ten in the grade, so I'm not worried. It's not like there is anyone to go for me, anyway, though I think Papa Sheriff will use his pseudo guardianship to check on me anyway. Scott's been having a hard time keeping his grades up with the bite though, but Mama Mel is in the know now, so I think she'll be lenient.
Scott's second full moon was yesterday. It was… anticlimactic. With Derek literally beating discipline into him, Scott has a solid hold on his anchor most of the time. He told me that he can sort of…compromise with his inner Good Boy by reminding it that losing control endangers the pack. Since love is his anchor, and no wolf wants to weaken its own pack, it mostly works. It does beg the question of how much sentience wolf spirits have, though.
Stiles's dad and Derek installed some chains in the concrete of the Den wall, and we left him chained there all night, the rest of us eating and playing games. I think the people he loves being near helped, and he was mostly able to join the festivities. He lost it for a bit in a game of Monopoly when the Sheriff bankrupted him, though, but then again, Sunny almost took a bat to Derek for the same shit.
It's Allison's birthday, so Scott, the fool, decides to ditch with her, nevermind the parent teacher conferences. I could have warned him it was a bad idea, but I decided that I wasn't going to stop the pack from doing all dumb shit, just the dumb shit that will get them killed. Mistakes are lessons, and they need to learn them.
Today, I'm plotting with Isaac, who's quickly becoming a very close friend. He's honestly so sweet that I have to resist the urge to cuddle him relentlessly. Although he seems to absolutely love cuddles, even thrive off the physical affection, there are still times he doesn't want it, and I have to watch closely for that. Sometimes, he pushes himself, but I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing. I don't refrain from showering him with verbal affection, though. I believe more research is required.
"So, you have a job at the graveyard. I want you to bring me all the paystubs you have so I can keep them safe at my house. And report cards if you got them."
"Okay…but why?" I beam at him, happy he's asking questions.
"Because it shows you can work and provide for yourself while maintaining your grades, a requirement if we go the emancipation route." I tell him, squinting at a few colored pencils, "Which of these is red?"
He points out the correct pencil for me. "But my grades aren't that great, especially chemistry."
"Are you failing?" I ask, adjusting a few lines on my fruit bowl still life drawing. Why is it always a fruit bowl? You'd think art teachers would be more creative.
"No, but it's a C." Shame, worry, hope.
"That's fine, but I'm in AP Chem. I can tutor you anyway, if you'd like." I'm so thankful I don't have that asshole, Harris. "Did you take the pictures and video?"
He nods. "Ok, send me the video and hand the pictures over. Don't forget to delete everything off of it so he can't find it, especially the Recently Deleted section." He reaches into his bag and pulls out one of those big yellow envelopes, and then hesitates, his knuckles clenched on it. I look at him for a second, before, holding my hand out to him under the table, wiggling the fingers. "Tell me what's on your mind."
He fidgets, before grasping my hand in his, and letting out an unsteady breath. "I…the pictures…y-you'll think I'm pathetic. Weak."
"Hell, no, sweetheart. I think you're one of the strongest people I've ever met," I tell him bluntly. If the abuse is as bad as I think it is, it's a miracle he survived at all. "And…your situation… I'm not completely unfamiliar with it, albeit to a significantly lesser degree."
"You?" He whispered, shock, horror, hope. "B-but, you're so strong."
"I-yeah. A few times. Mostly to my mother. It didn't get the chance to get real bad, though."
"It got bad enough , though, didn't it?" He's looking at me so intently, like he's really seeing me for the first time. Understanding, sadness, awe. The awe is a bit confusing, but whatever.
"Any is bad enough." I tell him solemnly. "As for me being strong, I had people to love me and help me get there. I'm going to do the same for you, as long as you want it." I give his hand a squeeze, and he hands me the envelope. I tuck it away, so when I look at it, I can cry and rage in peace. I ask him to show me the purple color pencil this time, and catch a glimpse of what I've started to call aura. Paint brings to life vibrant seashells that dot an ocean shore. The waves are only slightly blue at this point, but day by day, ther canvas fills with more color. Step one of Operation Bring Back the Deep Blue is complete.
XXXXXXXXXX
After school, Stiles and I visit Lydia. She's… fucked up big time, to be honest. I have to bundle her in a blanket and pull her off Stiles like twice. He would never take advantage of someone in this state, but I'm sure she would feel bad for being seen like this, and throwing herself at him.
More importantly, we find a very interesting video on her phone that we immediately send to ourselves and delete off of it. Honestly, it will be better for Lydia to think it was all a dream, anyway.
After that, we meet up with Derek and head to Hale House in the Camero. He had wanted to grab some things and do some exercise, and I would be happy to watch him. Yeah, I'm good being a potato and having my metabolism do the working out for me. Besides, my little belly chub is good for maintaining warmth in winter. That's important. I'll be here for moral support.
Stiles and I are reading and doing our best not to objectify our very yummy packmate, (Why the fuck did he take his shirt off? What fresh hell- I'm not that blind, damnit!), when I sense a blaring danger headed this way, the same time Derek whips his head up, hearing something.
He grabs us, practically carrying us into a blind spot in another room. I'm suddenly very glad I grabbed the bat Stiles started keeping in the Jeep. It wasn't even intuition, I just like fucking around with it and feeling like a badass.
Derek disappears somewhere just as hunters roll in. Shameless pieces of shit. How dare they come here of all places? I take deep breaths, doing my best to remain calm. I haven't forgotten what happened when I last lost my cool.
Three hunters are dicking around just a few feet away. Apparently, they spotted the Comoro, and realized Derek was making a visit here. They decided to strike now because they can't risk doing it when he's at home with the Sheriff. At least we know that plan is working.
I am momentarily dazed by the utterly revolting aura I catch from Head Butch. Smoke and decay, blood and ash, screams and cries. Evil. I pull myself back by grabbing Derek and Stiles's pack bonds, trying not to physically gag.
"If you want to provoke him, say something like, to bad your sister bit it before she could have her first litter. Too bad she howled like a bitch when we cut her in half!" Oh, this bitch is gonna get it now. I tighten my grip on the bat, just as Derek roars and decimates Head Bitch's goons. Unfortunately, he's so worked up, she takes him out in one shot. Fuck, i hate it when bad guys are competent.
"Wow, this one grew up in all the right places. I don't know whether to kill it… or lick it." My stomachs rolls, violently. Stiles recoils next to me and I do my best to soothe away the shame that comes from Derek's pack bond, holding it close in reassurance. Fuck, this is Kate Argent.
She circles Derek where he lies on the floor, like a beast stalking prey. I'm barely suppressing my rage, but I'm pretty sure my eyes have gone silver, based on the tingle and Stiles's silent flailing. I wait for my opportunity, my heart aching as Derek drags himself across the ground, leading her away from our hiding spot, and getting shocked again, from the sound of it. Pain flares once more.
I start to creep silently forward as Crazy Kate monologues, (of-fucking-course she does, dumb bitch), tapping into my intuition to fully guide my steps. Stiles cleverly follows me, stepping exactly as I do. Smart cookie. I feel the exact moment Derek sees us. Alarm, incredulity, and protective instinct. He manages not to give us away though, so kudos to that.
We just barely manage to escape her peripherals when she gets up from creeping on Derek by shifting quickly two steps to the left, and then back in rapid succession. Oh God, my magic is such serious bullshit.
"Unless you don't know who he is either." she laughs, the psycho, "Well, guess who just became totally useless?" NOW!
I bring my bat down as hard as I can on the side of her head before she can see us. She drops, knocked the fuck out. I take a chance to look at her. She's beautiful. I hate it. I bring my foot back, viciously kicking her in the face with fucking glee, making a mental note to get some steel toed combat boots. Then, I bring the bat down hard on each of her hands, grinning when I hear an audible snap…or two.
Flipping my hair out of my face, I huff, standing straight to see the boys. Stiles is a little scared, amused, gleeful, and… horny? I smirk and give him a shove, and he groans in embarrassment, hiding his face. Honestly, I'm flattered, but I know not to read into it. I've learned that teenage boys are basically always horny, as seen by his feelings literally half an hour ago when Derek was doing push-ups.
Stepping on, rather than over Kate, (fucking hope her ribs break), I drop to the floor, crawling to Derek. "Can I touch you? Please?"
Derek slams into me, damn near bowling me over, almost frantically nuzzling against me to get the scent of pack. I hug him for a second before pulling away to kiss his cheeks, and helping him up. I slip behind him, curled against his back with my forehead against his spine, as Stiles crowds into his front.
Derek pulls Stiles into our hug without hesitation, and nuzzles him, too. Stiles reaches around Derek, one hand gripping the hair at the back of my neck, the other around our waists. I reach up onto my tippy toes, just barely able to press my lips to the bottom of the Triskelion tattoo on his back, noticing Silas's lovely eyes watching me intently. Derek shivers, and pulls us closer.
We bask in the warmth of the pack for a minute before I disentangle us. "Now," I say cheerfully, clapping my hands together loudly, "It's time to rob these fuckers blimd."
XXXXXXXXXX
We spend the next several minutes gathering up every weapon and piece of amo we can find on the hunters, and in their cars, even that very sparkly stick that I should definitely not be allowed to have, but I'm keeping it anyways.
"Why am I doing this exactly?" Derek asks from where he is using his claws to cut up the ID's, drivers licenses, various other cards, shoes, and smashing phones.
"Because I'm petty as fuck, and this shit is a bitch to replace." I carefully slip all the debit cards into my pocket, and gesture at Stiles, handing him the bat, who promptly stops loading up guns into the duffel bags we found, and whacks one of the goons again so he stays unconscious. I love Stiles so much.
I hesitate. "Are… Should we kill her before we go?" Both packmates turn to me, but only Derek is surprised. Strategically it might be better to take her out now, and… I don't want her anywhere near Derek again. I can't even stand the thought. I have no mercy for those that harm children or sexual predators, and she is both.
Derek comes over and crouches in front of me, before taking my face very gently between his palms. To my surprise, he gives me a soft kiss on the forehead. Then he smiles, and it's so achingly beautiful that I immediately resolve to see it as often as possible. "It's fine. Let's give the alpha more to worry about." And then we continue our looting.
We chuck the keys, and several important looking car parts into the woods, smashing shit left and right, but being very careful of fingerprints. The hunters are gonna have to walk back, barefoot, and may they step on every possible sharp item and burr. As we hike to the car, I feel a tug, and see a giant tree stump in my mind, but for once I completely ignore it. No engaging magical things of unknown origin, purpose, and power, especially when they might be able to influence you. Yeah, fuck that.
We spend the next few hours hiding the car from various cameras, before Derek would cover his face and hair and use a pen if possible to withdraw the cash limit from every ATM we can find, and wiping any fingerprints left. We then leave the cards on the ground in the last few stops. The codes, of course, were provided by a little something called Layla's Magic Bullshit.
Even if the hunters know it has to be Derek and dared report it, which is unlikely in itself, there isn't clear evidence. We end up with a fucking ton of money by the time we get home, and get to inact one of the things on Stiles and I's bucket list; making it rain while dancing our asses off.
We even get Derek in on it, the competitive wolf, who gives us a 30 second twerk just to prove he can. It's fucking glorious. I leave the room only once to call the Sheriff and warn him about panicking people and reckless drivers, and that Scott is safe, just an idiot, so don't let Mellisa stress.
The pack gets home in one piece to find us passed out in our own money angels, and Sunny and I with cash literally braided into our hair. The pictures were so going to be framed.
The next morning, Papa tries to lecture us, but it doesn't really work when we can feel his pride in our crime skills through the packbond. Mama Mel just cackles openly, not even bothering. She's cool like that. We decide to have a pack day. But first, we redistribute the loot.
Most of the weapons end up at the Sheriff's house, but a few go to the safe in my house where my mom keeps her documents and gold, as does some cash. Mama Mel gets a few weapons, too, since she started training to shoot with Papa, and she is kinda scary good. A mother determined to protect her children is serious shit. I force a majority of the money on her because I know cash is tight for them, with the excuse she might have to work less in cases that we need her for pack business, and werewolves need lots of groceries if she wants to feed us all. Papa Sheriff also plans to take this as an "anonymous tip" that the Argents "might" have illegal, unregistered firearms. Ha.
The little bit of dough left is being spent today. We end up driving to a few towns over so we can go shopping with Derek without hunters rolling up. The whole pack gets new leather jackets, Sunny, a very nice Princess Jasmine doll, Isaac, an art pencil set, Boyd, a cool bracelet, and much more. The drive is totally worth it for Derek's smiles.
I'm currently walking in between Papa and Mama, an arm in each, content to listen to them talk about the conferences while the others run around like eager pups.
"This man had the audacity to suggest that Scott needed a male authority figure, like I'm not enough of an authority figure because I'm a woman!" Melissa fumes. An icy winter wind howls, freezing everything in its path.
"Sexsist pig," I huff, "The gall."
"Right," she nods. A blizzard stops, light glinting off lovely crystal, and a warm fire starts.
"I didn't get any sexism, but apparently Stiles wrote an essay on the history to male circumcision." Exasperation, amusement, embarrassment, Papa. That won't do.
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. I actually took that essay, reformatted it, and sent it to several university professors. I just got an email from San Francisco saying that they would like to speak with him about publishing it, and perhaps an early enrollment and or scholarship. It really was a fascinating read."
"Are you serious? Oh my god, that's great! Does he know yet?" Bright afternoon sun warming skin, soft, sweet smelling grass, cool drinks and picnics.
"Nah, haven't told him yet. Tonigh,we'll throw a little party, or something." Derek passes by, brushing a hand along each of our shoulders as he does, with Sunny clinging to his back, chatting his ear off about… which princess is best? Derek is nodding along, terribly serious, as she waves her arms wildly, something she probably picked up from Stiles. That's adorable.
Truthfully, before, it would have taken me ages to leave Sunya alone with someone new. I'm generally suspicious of everyone, and she is literally the most important thing in the world to me. Just over a month isn't enough time to vet someone. Hell, i still wouldn't leave her alone with our stepdad if I could help it, and he'd been around for 2, nearly 3 years, and almost a full year in person. As much as I adore Derek right now, and trust him deeply, that's only because of my ability.
"So… Derek." I knew this was coming. Might as well have it out now.
"Derek is 19, and nothing is happening outside pack relations with any of us." I tell them both firmly."I know it's a strange situation, but please…don't say anything to him. An accusation of this nature will really hurt him. I've completely vetted him with my powers, repeatedly. If something does happen, I'll let you know ASAP. For now, leave it."
Both parents study me seriously, before sighing. Mel leans her head on mine as we continue to walk. "Alright, honey. It's just that as parents, we worry. We love you, you know that, right?"
"I totally understand and expect that." I agree, reasonably. Derek and Sunny are coming over now, seemingly done with whatever they were doing. I'm glad Derek didn't hear the earlier bit of conversation. "I'm also aware that I'm the youngest of us at 15, no matter how I act."
Derek, with Sunny still on his back, actually trips, nearly kissing a mannequin. It's hilarious, and Sunny Girl's giggles are music to my ears although I don't do anything purposely.
Derek zooms over, almost supernaturally fast, lifting me off my feet so we're eye level. The others head over curiously. "Y-you. You're 15?!" He sets me down again before pinching a chubby cheek in each hand and pulling, like he expects my real face to be revealed from underneath. "How is that possible?"
"Ow, ow, OW! Gerroff!" I kick him with my new street toe boots, for kicking bitches of course. "I thought you knew."
"Scott said 16. You call him, Little Brother. You're a sophomore!"
"There're 15 years old sophomores, dude. And as for calling me, Little Brother, she's never really cared to let such lowly things as reality stop her. I gave up on her dropping it years ago," Scott says shrugging.
"I was a pretty smart kid," and mom couldn't really afford childcare, "so I entered school a few months early. I'll turn 16 on Halloween of junior year."
"You're 15." Poor Derek looks a little dazed. "But, you act like an adult. Not like me, though, a functional one."
I snort, because his self awareness is pretty funny, and give him jazz hands, sing-songing, "Trauma!"
He looks so done with me.
XXXXXXXXXX
We are walking down a busy boulevard when I feel it. My instincts ping incessantly, and I stop in my tracks. The humming grows loud, and my fingers start to tingle, once again. Opportunity lies ahead.
"Layla?" Scott is currently guiding me, an arm around my shoulders. His worried voice draws attention from the others, and we are quickly surrounded by the pack.
"I need to do something. What is that shop over there?" I point to one a few stores down.
"Looks like a bakery." The sheriff rests his hand on his knee, like he wants to reach for the gun strapped to his ankle.
I pull his hand away gently. "It's okay, Papa…it feels good, I think. Derek, Stiles, and I will go. You guys stay here and listen using Scott. We should be back in 15… we'll text you." The "come get us if we aren't back and you haven't heard from us" is unspoken, but loud.
"I don't like this." The Sheriff feels antsy, everyone does.
"It will be ok," I half lie, and guessing by the judgy eyebrows I get, Derek caught me. I shrug and pull Stiles and him with me towards the bakery.
"Listen closely, this is important. I don't know what I'm about to say or do, but follow my lead, no matter what." Be regal. I straighten my shoulders and adjust my stride to be swaying and smoothe, flicking my hair over my shoulder, and schooling my face. "No matter what, keep your face and body calm, neutral, but not cold. Don't even smile if I don't, but above all, trust me." They pull themselves together just as I slip an arm into each of theirs, and we reach the doors.
We enter to the yummy smells of coffee, bread, and fresh desert. Inside. It's warm and welcoming with sunset colors and comfortable armchairs, couches, and rugs scattered around tables. I throw myself head first into my intuition and head to the counter, feeling my eyes change.
There is an old black lady writing something on a note bad. She has an elegant look, despite the apron, and a distinctly southern drawl and I get a warm feeling as she looks up, "How can I help-" She cuts off rather abruptly when she catches sight of me. She stares, and I cock my head to the side, studying her with half lidded silver eyes.
"A-are you the Gaurdian, the Keeper of the Great Tree, of the Balance?" she whispers, a hand reaching to cover her mouth. Awe, fear, hope, excitement.
My body hums, electricity racing just underneath the skin. Yes, yes, yes, yesyesyesyesye- I mute all my packbonds as far as I can manage, before answering, tilting my head into the barest nod. "I am."
The energy boils over, spilling out onto my skin, and it's like dying and being reborn anew. Light erupts around me, bouncing of the wall like moonbeams. From the center of my forehead down my body, I feel a burning sensation. It only lasts for the barest of seconds before it travels farther, and the skin left behind feels unharmed again, but it hurts like hell. I grit my teeth and do my best not to let it show to anyone, and the pain is as quick to leave as it had come. Somehow the whole experience leaves me feeling fucking dead and with enough energy to never sleep again at the same time. A packbond snaps into place. Fucking magic bullshit.
I take the light show as the distraction I need to give myself the slightest and quickest side eye. I glimpse molten silver painted marks on my skin, (oh, that's what was burning), and silver strands peeking over my shoulder. I focus on the old lady again, who is gaping in shock, a hand now on her heart, and I hope I didn't just give her a heart attack.
Both of my packmates are keeping it together beautifully, but I can tell Derek had caught scent of my pain by the rumbling growl I can feel, but not hear. Stiles, however, is only still by the grace of god, his excitement and curiosity overwhelming my senses a bit. I give them both an arm squeeze as soon as my muscles unfreeze. I open my bonds back up, and let reassurance flow. Stiles covers the hand I have hooked in his arm with his free palm, and rubs his thumb soothingly on the marks there. Damn, that tickles.
Then the old lady, who's name tag I litterally can't read, totters around the counter, surprisingly fast for her apparent age, and drops to kneel at our feet. I reach for instinctively, (holy hell, has she fallen and can't get up?), but she just grasps my hands and presses the knuckles to her forehead. Relief spills like a tsunami from her very bones.
"Your Majesty, so I've witnessed, and note it be. It is a great relief and blessing for a Guardian to awaken and walk these lands once more. It is an honor, Your Majesty."
…what the fuck.
XXXXXXXXXX