AN: Tried to do the finale in one chapter and failed miserably, lol. Here is part of the aftermath.
XXXXXLAYLAXXXXX
I wait calmly. This is it. Tonight, it will end. The words keep chanting in my head, over and over, and with the crown on my head again, all the fear, the unease, the despair is gone. I just feel certain. Grounded.
A Guardian cannot be defied in their own territory. There is nothing to fear. I am with you, Dear One. When Suhel finally speaks in words, I accept it. Being so close to the nemeton and having the crown back made it easy. I can feel the certainty in every part of my being, my instincts, magic, and even my blood all saying the same message, over and over.
I let the power bubble up and spill out, my magic actually lighting up several feet of the darkness around me. Derek and Scott shift, settling on either side, but in front of me.
Once again, Peter appears from the tree line. He's dragging a struggling Kate by her hair across the ground. She's clawed to hell, from what I can feel of her pain, but still kicking. It's almost impressive.
His next words catch me off guard, and I feel the pity for him swell, as he hisses, gripping her throat even as his voice shakes in grief."Apologize. Say you're sorry for decimating my family, for leaving me burned and broken for six fucking years. Say it. And I might let your family live."
Kate chokes something out, and my face twists in disgust as I look away, revolted, because even now, it's insincere. Even with her family on the line, she's proud. Peter slits her throat, unaffected by Chris and Allison crying out, dropping her to the ground like he can't bear to touch her any longer than this, not even to make it slower. "I don't know about you, Guardian, but that apology didn't sound very sincere."
I nod, wanting to be kind to him. Because very soon, Peter Hale would need to die, and he was nothing but another victim of Kate's. In the end, she created the monster he became, the monster that killed her. I look around, numb, tired, and sad, deep in my bones. What a fucking useless, devastating tragedy. All this for what?
"You know I won't just let you kill me, right? I can't just stop." I nod again, knowing it well. He prowls closer, but I just close my eyes and let my consciousness sink deeper into my energy, listening to Suhel's words as though he was whispering them right into my soul. I feel the light behind my closed lids brighten, magic flowing into the ground, and just as Peter roars and charges, I feel it surge,
The ground trembles and shakes, and I open my eyes to see roots shooting out of the earth, wrapping up his limbs and binding him a few feet off the floor. This is my first real look at Peter's Alpha form, and it's horrifying. Warped and disfigured, it's a hulking mass, clearly wrong in a way none of the other wolves are. It grates on my magic.
He struggles futility, and I can feel my magic strain against his strength, but it holds as I step forward. Derek grabs my arm trying to hold me back, but I just pull him gently along. It takes a few moments, but Peter seems to give up, perhaps as empty as I am in this moment. He looks at Derek, then. "You've already decided. I can smell it on you."
I reach up my hand and settle it on his chest, feeling the heart thundering in it as he shifts back to human form. Every life matters, and when you take one, you should bear the weight of it. Don't turn away, Worthy One, for this too is your responsibility, difficult as it may be. Suhel's words are solemn, and I accept them, feeling the tears finally beginning to fall.
"It's…it's okay now, Peter. You can rest. Things will be better when you wake up again." He seems to ignore me, but his eyes are shutting, like he's going to sleep, and I pray it helps, even if only slightly.
Peter swallows roughly before speaking one last time. "Go on then, Pup." And Derek makes a wounded noise, and slits his throat, blood splattering us both.
I keep my hand on Peter long after the thudding under my palm stops, after I feel the alpha spark flow into Derek, absorbing his Beta one, after Derek steps away and howls mournfully at the moon, eyes red. It's when he falls to his knees and starts to cry that I let go, joining him on the ground, weeping as the pack gathers together again.
When the darkness comes, I go eagerly, wanting to be anywhere but the here and now.
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I wake up with my head nestled in Suhel's lap where he is seated on the Nemeton's stomp. "Is it always going to be so hard?"
"Being a Guardian? No. But there were reasons I chose you. You understand how important life is, even though you aren't really afraid of death. Your compassion is near endless, even to your enemies. You are just and merciful, but you don't cower from making the hard decisions, nor do you delude yourself and avoid accountability. As much as it may hurt you, it's best that hurting others never becomes easy for you."
I nod, tears running down my face as fingers comb through the strands of my hair, gently grasping at them like twigs.
"I'm sorry, Layla."
"Not your fault," I reply, unsteady but sincere. He laughs, the smile on his lips wry.
"There it is," he huffs, growing solemn again. "There are a few things we need to discuss."
I narrow my eyes, suspicious. "I thought you said tonight was the end."
"Of the beginning. But the end is never really the end."
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"This is BULLSHIT!" I shriek. "Dead people don't just come back to life! That's not how it's sopossed to fucking work!"
Suhel shrugs. "Magic."
"WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN!?"
"Mostly, the dead need to stay that way. But not always."
"AND I HAVE TO MAKE THAT DECISION?"
"I told you, some things will be difficult. You are the Guardian."
"IS EVERYONE JUST GONNA KEEP ON RESURRECTING?"
"Let's hope not. That would be bad," he states mildly.
"Motherf-"
XXXXXXXXXX
I wake up in the den at home, surrounded by blankets, but alone. I get up, heading for the kitchen, and the wobbling of my limbs tells me it's been another long nap. "Feenie!"
There is a small pop, and the brownie appears, sprinting in for a tiny hug. "Queenie! How is you? You took very long nap!"
"How long?" I mutter, plopping into a chair. She zips away, kindly starting to gather some leftovers from the fridge, and I send a prayer of gratitude up to whatever deity is responsible for Feenie's existence in my life.
"Three days!" Huh, not bad.
"Know when anyone will be home?"
"Feenie is already having notified them!" She waves a phone at me, and I snort because she has to use both tiny hands to show it to me. "Was a present of new Alpha wolfie."
I'm only three bites in when my house is invaded by several people. The pack spends several minutes squishing me and passing me around and then re-squishing me between them, but they're not the only ones here. Coach, Danny, Aunt Angie, and even Lydia, Jackson, and Erica arrive soon after.
It takes me a bit, but I eventually get everyone settled, deciding to shove the things I can't deal with away for the moment while I tackle the rest. I turn to Lydia, Jackson, and Erica first. "You guys got an explanation?"
"It's crazy, but yeah." Jackson admits, shifting uncomfortably.
"This was the Pandora's box you were keeping, huh?" Lydia murmurs. "I have to be honest, I didn't think it would be this deep." I laugh a bit hysterically, knowing she didn't know half of it. The stress was already climbing, so I shove it down, deciding to just close down my bonds. Several of my pack react visibly, but I ignore it. It's better if I work on it myself for now.
"I asked for the bite!" Erica blurts, and I blink, startled. "Derek and Stiles explained. I…I might not live very long as I am. And…I think pack would be nice," she whispers the last bit, and I turn to look at the pack parents.
"We gave her the full run down, good and bad, and we will involve her parents. The same for Boyd and his grandmother." My eyebrows shoot up, not having expected that, either. Nor Isaac suddenly stepping forward and wrapping lanky limbs around me.
"Isaac?" I murmur, frowning.
"That night was…awful. You-you're always saving me, but when you needed saving, I-" Isaac's voice cuts off abruptly, face buried in my shoulder.
It takes a minute for realization to dawn on me. "You want the bite, too." He pulls away, nodding, and the fear of rejection written on his face brings me back to reality like a slap to the face. "Isaac, you don't need my blessing."
He shakes his head sharply, a stubborn look appearing. "You're my family. I do need it. Especially considering I live here."
I consider this, touched deeply by the sentiment. "I don't want you to make the decision to turn because you want to protect me. That situation wasn't exactly normal, and I want you to live for you. But, if that's really what you want, and your decision is informed…I just want you to be happy. You'll be family whether you decide to grow fangs, claws, wings, horns, or whatever the fuck else. Even if it's nothing at all." He beams, crushing me into another hug, and I let it steady me just the smallest bit more. "While I get a strong feeling the bite will take for you three, we need to hold off on the new bites until we can get a grip on the ones that have already occurred." I gesture at Lydia and Jackson, "We won't be able to handle all of you at once."
"About that,…Layla, those two didn't turn into werewolves. We-we don't really know what they turned into, actually." I gape at Stiles, wanting an explanation, but it's Aunt Angie the Hoodoo Priestess that answers.
"They showed signs of bite rejection, but have not died. That means something dormant came forth and they changed into something else, as you would have, Your Highness." I frown, confused.
"I did not show bite rejection, though," I point out, but Aunt Angie just shrugs.
"You are a Guardian." And really, that's a pretty solid explanation considering I don't seem to be as limited by reality as anyone else.
I sigh, "Fine, but still, try to take some more time to decide if you want the bite, you three. Lydia, Jackson, I will be taking you to the Nemeton so we can figure out what the fuck you are, and hope you don't eat anyone in the meantime." Several people wince in agreement.
"Lastly," I turn to Danny, Aunt Angie, and Coach. "I can't thank you three enough for your aid that night. It won't be forgotten."
"It was nothing but our duty by vow, Royal Brat," Coach waves it off, his embarrassment making my lips twitch.
"Coach, you haven't even given me yours yet," I point out.
"Bah, we know I will!" The room erupts into laughter, and I smile, weak as it is.
"I'll take it after this meeting, but I do need something else from you guys," I admit, and the atmosphere shifts back, serious as a heart attack once more. "Contact everyone in the territory that you can. Every supernatural wishing to reside here and swear oaths."
"You mean…" Danny's eyes are bulging in surprise, and I feel the reaction echoed across the room by many.
"Yes. It's time for me to hold court." I tell them, feeling my bond with Suhel warm in both joy and pride. I don't feel deserving of it, though. Not when I'm not ready to address the things actually worrying me.
Those being the impending return of Kate Argent and Peter Hale. Because fuck us, apparently. Someone pissed off a god somewhere for us to get this unlucky, and I'm willing to blame it on Stiles. He would be the one to do it, honestly, but if it wasn't him, it was definitely me.
"Ah," I think, remembering the last thing I could handle at the moment. "That reminds me. Scotty, call the Argents. I'll be inviting them to Court. It will be the first step in cracking down on the hunters, and I'll be using them to do it."
"WHAT?!"
XXXXXXXXXX
The clock was ticking, time slipping past me at a ridiculous pace. Tomorrow, I'd be taking Lydia and Jackson to Suhel so he could figure out what the hell they were, but the date for my official debut as Guardian would be soon after. The pack has taken to calling in my Ascendance, as though I would be taking a throne. It was annoyingly melodramatic, but not entirely inaccurate.
Suhel hadn't explicitly asked me to do it, but I had talked over my plans with him, and he had been ecstatic. The truth was, I'd been thinking about how I wanted to handle territory management for a while. I knew delegation would be necessary, and some sort of rule book and governing body, but it would all come down to the vows I would receive. Each vow made to the Guardian, and by extension, the Nemeton and territory, was unique. For example, Danny, descendant of Mo'o, shapeshifting water spirits, had offered aid in battle with his water manipulation abilities, but his parents had not stated such explicitly in their vows. That means if I call on Danny for battle and he denies me, breaking his vow, I could punish him, but if I asked his parents, they could decline or accept without consequence. Additionally, punishment meant anything from reparations to execution, as far as I could tell. Before I solidiy anything, I need to know who and what is where, and what their vows consist of, and I won't know until I've received them.
I set down another old book, jotting down more notes for the online beasteiry, this time on goblins. The days since I'd woken up had been much the same. We needed to be as prepared as possible considering our smallest estimate of supernats arriving for the meeting was well over a hundred, and of massive variety, too. The whole pack had been drowning themselves in dusty tomes, and assimilating the information collected and shared by Coach, Danny, and Aunt Angie's, whom we'd taken to calling the Vowed, or Vassals. Since the community was, rightfully, paranoid about secrecy, no one person knew everyone else, and if they did know someone, they might not know what they actually were or could do, just that they weren't strictly human. Rather, there were small sets of alliances branching out all over, a network of sorts. Word of the meeting was traveling by mouth, though, and by the sharp increase in magical presences I could feel arriving in town, I could tell it was working.
Hopefully no one hostile shows up, but there really wasn't any way to know. I felt my chest warm, Suhel making himself known, and I amend the statement. Okay, yeah, Suhel would tell me, and considering we're having it outside Hale House, he'll be near enough to to interfere if anything happens.
I pull my legs to my chest, watching my hands hang beneath my knees. I was nervous for the meeting, but not terribly. I had a good feeling about it. Really good. So, the meeting wasn't really the issue.
Nah, the issue was Peter and Kate.
According to Suhel, I woke up too late to do anything about Kate, who has already turned and faked her own death with the help of her father, apparently. I.. I don't want to tell anyone. I really don't. But I will, because I'm under no delusions that she'll stay away, and getting ambushed by her would be so much more dangerous. It's going to fucking crush Derek. Oh god, he's been so happy.
The Alpha power had changed something in Derek. Not bad, not at all. But, he felt different, more intense, more confident, just…more. It was in the way he walked and talked and stood. His shoulders were straighter and he was smiling more, less quiet and angry in everything he did. And it was going to kill me to ruin that.
Kate was an uncomfortable and distressing, but simple issue. We find her? We kill her. And I was going to feel her coming, or at least, Suhel would. She was bad, but not fuckinh me up nearly as much as Peter, because Peter? I was actually conflicted about him.
I clench my eyes shut, gripping my hair, stress racketing up just at the thought of that clusterfuck. I'm so fucking screwed. Suhel said he was coming back no matter what, but that if I didn't help, he'd harm some people in the process and would come back wrong, and god, I don't want to know what that would mean. How the fuck do I explain this to my pack? Literally none of them are going to be happy with him around, even if he wasn't really at fault and literally insane at the time. They aren't going to just forget the shit he did!
The worst part was that I don't hate him. If he really won't be crazy and evil when he comes back like Suhel said, I know myself well enough to know I won't be able to dismiss him or make him someone else's problem. I might even have to fight the others on it. Papa Sheriff and Scott will probably be the most against it, and Derek might go either way as well. If they can't accept him, it will be entirely valid, but… Peter was a victim. He wasn't bad. That was the overwhelming impression I had of him, and even now, my magic was echoing it.
I pull harder on my scalp, frustrated, stressed tears pricking at my eyes as I curl tighter, mind spinning in circles. A soft voice breaks through the fog. "Layla?" A hand is reaching for me but it feels like a shackle, and I can't.
I throw myself away from it, tripping over the coffee table, crashing into the floor, and springing back to my feet violently. I pant, turning to see Isaac frozen, hand still outstretched. "Sorry," I choke out, scrambling up to my room without another thought.
I stumble into my room spinning in a circle, looking for something, anything to stop the panic rising. My skin starts to lighten and I can just barely hear things starting to rattle above the blood rushing in my ears. Flickers of visions start hitting me successively, and my alarm escalates as I stop being able to see. Limbs shaking, I tug off my clothes, and climb into my bathtub, finally dissolving into sobs. Blindly, I turn on the water, wanting to have my breakdown in fucking peace, thank you very much. The water is borderline scalding, but curled up in the tub, I can't really bear to do anything about it, head buried in my knees and hands pressing my flower crown anchor down into wet silver hair.
In between visions of things I can't really process and the moments I manage to calm myself enough to be present, I hear the bathroom door creak open. I hadn't even bothered to shut it. "I'm coming in!"
I'm too far gone to move, too exhausted to care, not even about the sorry sight I must make. "Can I trust you-" The next thing I register in the present are gentle hands carefully rubbing my back, and a worried voice calling out above me. It takes a while, but eventually, the visions stop pulling me under, and my chest stops hurting from the force of erratic breathing. I blink water out of my eyes, letting Isaac pull me up and wrap me in a towel, (When did the water stop?), before scooping me out of the shower.
I zone out for a while and find myself wearing a robe and tucked into my bed, fluffy blankets around me and artist's hands wrapped around mine, the smell of paint and fruit gracing my senses.
Things felt oddly fuzzy and mercifully numb, not relaxed, but…empty, and that was so much better than what I'd been feeling all day, for several days. Shaky off the feeling, I rasp out to my packmate. "Sorry."
He squeezes my hands. "I know things have been… a lot, but Layla…You have to talk to us. You're gonna hurt yourself."
I shut my still sightless eyes, grimacing. He's right. I can't keep going in circles without a conclusion, and it's not even something I can keep from them, since it's mostly out of my control. So… the only thing I can do is minimize the damage. I nod, feeling something settle as plans start forming, my body untensing.
"Thanks," I tell my brother, lips twitching weakly.
The hands on mine carefully pull me into a hug and I lean into it. "You're welcome. We're pack after all." I huff, not used to having my own words thrown back at me. I grin for the first time in what feels like days.
"Of course. Now get out. I need a real shower." His laughter lights up the world, like always, and I feel okay again. Not great, but also not like everything is catastrophizing.
Okay. First, Lydia and Jackson. Then the meeting and vows. Then Peter. Then Kate. And that was that.
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