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Chapter Text

Talia Hale could feel something wrong deep in her bones when she woke, the night of the New Moon. She quietly got out of bed and began to check on her pack.

Peter was asleep in the library again, his laptop having long gone to sleep itself, so she added a log to the fireplace and left him be. Malia was tucked to her father's side, wrapped in a blanket. There was a storybook on the floor at Peter's feet, meaning she'd likely woken up, found her father, and asked to be read to.

Cora was, as usual, halfway off her bed, her legs on the mattress and the rest of her sprawled out on the floor, her mouth open wide as she snored peacefully, her favorite toy, a stuffed monkey named Fred, tucked under one arm.

Laura and Matthew were both in one bed again, making Talia roll her eyes. They were 22, you'd think they'd want a separate room. But no, her twins wanted nothing to do with that, and barely slept in a different bed.

Her next child was still up, but Kyle was silent as he studied, merely giving her a quick smile and going right back to work, surrounded by books and papers. Talia left him to it, merely mentioning to leave the library be as Peter and Malia were asleep. Alicia, his wife, was up too, talking to the growing bump of her belly, trying to convince her twins to go to sleep, please. Carrying wolf pups wasn't easy for a human, but Alicia was handling it well.

John, barely 19, slept like his father, on his belly, one arm under the pillow, the other tucked under his body, the blankets gathered like a parka on his shoulders while his toes hung over the edge of the bed, uncovered. He'd obviously been asleep for hours, though that was no surprise, as John was easily the most laid back and calm of his siblings.

Dave, John's human husband, was wrapped around him like a koala, their daughter sleeping as soundly as her adoptive fathers in her crib on the other side of the room, Dave's cat curled up protectively at her head, glaring at Talia through the darkness. That cat, Talia swore, was as smart as Peter and just as devious.

Her parents and inlaws all shared a overly large and fluffy mattress between them, each old and wrinkly member of the family sleeping peacefully near the fireplace in their room, though the fire had long gone out.
(She sometimes wondered why she and Robert hadn't named one of their children Charlie, just as a joke. It would have been a stupidly funny literary reference.)

Which left Derek. He wasn't in his room, and he wasn't on the roof, staring at the sky like he occasionally liked to do. Talia began a search, sniffing him out, the scent leading to the front door.

The unlocked front door. Talia quickly threw on her jacket over her shoulders, noting that Derek's own was still hanging up on its hook. Derek never went anywhere without his jacket.

There were paw prints in the dirt heading into the forest. Talia howled, knowing that, unfortunately, she'd be waking her family up.

Her mate was by her side in a moment, shifted and alert. It was but the work of a moment to discern what was going on. He retreated to the house, brushing against his wife's shoulder as he went. The rest of the pack who were old enough gathered by Talia's side.

"Derek's in the woods," she explained. "After Paige, we take no chances. Search the woods, find him. Howl if you need help, or if he runs. If you..."

"Talia, hold on. Sniff the air," Peter interrupted. "Smell that? Gas, kerosene, wolfsbane... The house and yard are covered with them, and I smell blood on the winds."

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Malia sat on a low stump, feeling ill at ease. This part of the woods belonged to Derek. Oh, she and the family were welcome here, but it still put her ill at ease to be in this part of the woods. Still, this tree was the best way to find Derek- sit on the stump and he would come running, screaming about his page. "Lost my page!", he would cry, snarling and snapping at those who sat on the stump.

He used to, at least. He didn't really speak much, anymore.
Malia kept her eyes down in submission, giving him a low whine in greeting, as the monstrous wolf that was her beloved cousin lumbered up to her, sniffing and licking at her neck affectionately. The werecoyote returned the cuddles, then hopped down to the ground, glad to get off the stump. It always left her feeling... ill at ease.

Derek no longer looked human, not in the slightest. His snout was like a pitbull might have, and he was covered in black fur that had matted and clumped along his back and hips, bits of twigs and leaves stuck in them. He looked horrible, if Malia was honest with herself. She and Peter were the only members of the pack he'd truly speak with, and even that was mostly just... him, sitting and listening to them, head in their laps. He'd grunt, or whine, on occasion,but he never did much else. Sometimes, if they caught him when he was hungry, they'd get to hunt with him, but that was... uncommon.

Malia shifted to her human form, standing next to him.
"Derek, you need to come home. The rogue is getting bolder, Chris Argent is here. He knows you're out here,but Derek, listen, please, no!"

Derek had turned away and started to run, huffing angrily. Malia gave a loud "Argh!" of frustration and followed, shifting back to coyote so she could keep pace.

A loud, angry howl broke out, suddenly, followed by two long screams echoing through the woods. Derek changed directions right towards the sounds, giving an angry roar as he did. Malia let up a loud call of her own, summoning her family, and... their visitors. They'd need all the help they could get...

They ran a mile, two miles, until they came across a boy on the ground, leaned up in the roots of a tree. He screamed at the sight of Derek, who ignored him and kept running after the rogue.

He wasn't far away, and he was in human form. Malia snarled at the sight of him, but Derek... Derek stopped dead in his tracks.

Because the rogue had a boy by the throat, ready to bite at a moment's notice.
Malia knew the boy, Stiles, from school. He'd been her math tutor one semester.

And they were back at Derek's tree. How?... they hadn't come in a circle. They'd run north the whole time! What was going on?

Then the rogue was speaking.

"Derek Hale! Looking a little more like an animal than the last time I saw you! It's a good look, I have to admit. Very... large." He said, voice reminding Malia of a creepy, would be Dom who liked to ignore safe words. Derek snarled, and Stiles gave a fearful whimper.

"Well, here's hoping this one takes the bite better than the last one." He mocked, moving to bite the teen, only to yowl like an angry cat. Stiles, beautiful, half mad Stiles, had done the only thing he could think of,and kicked back, hitting the rogue in the most painful place he could.

It was just the opening Derek needed, and Malia watched in horror as her feral cousin darted forward, claws tearing into Ennis's belly even as he ripped his throat out with one swift bite.

Lights began to swirl around them, Derek, Stiles, the stump, even her, and Malia began to cry, though she didn't know why. It was the sheer power in the clearing, it had to be,because she felt like lightning. And if SHE felt like that,Derek had to feel even stronger, because even as his eyes began to glow red,his body twisted and changed,becoming even more wolf like, and then more like a human. It was like he couldn't decide which he wanted to be, and it was terrifying.

Then everything went dark...

Chapter Text

Malia woke up with a groan, shaking her head and blinking in confusion. "Malia?" A voice asked, and it took a moment, but she recognized Scott McCall's voice.
"Malia, are you... ok?" He asked in concern.

"I'm ok." She mumbled, sitting up."If I'm not right now, I will be in a bit. You?" She asked, knowing the boy'd been bitten.

Scott groaned, trying to sit up further, wobbling a bit. Malia gently pushed him back and gave him a Look. It was one she'd learned from her aunt. Scott knew that look too. His Mom liked using it on him quite a bit. He went still, letting Malia lift his shirt, gingerly peeling it back from the wound.

There was a lot of blood, but it was only blood, thank god. No black, tarry bile... small mercy.
"Well, you'll live." She shrugged, ignoring the small whimper Scott gave. Never let it be said she had good bedside manners.

The newly bitten soon to be former human gave a whimper, which Malia ignored. The pain would fade in a few minutes anyways, as he began to heal. She instead sniffed the air, trying to catch any sign of Derek.
"Ugh. Fine. Old fashioned way then. Cover your ears, McCall." She grumbled, giving a loud howl.

Scott yelped, covering his ears and shutting his eyes. He whimpered as Malia's howl was echoed from deeper in the woods, and from closer to the Hale House. Malia sat against the wall and sighed.
"Now we wait." She grunted, closing her eyes. "Auntie will explain what's going on, seeing as, yanno, Ennis is dead and I'm pretty sure Derek is still feral..." she mumbled, grumbling about it under her breath.

"Feral?" Scott asked, voice trembling with fear and pain.
"Again, I'm not explaining. One, it's Auntie and Dad's job. Or, well, to be technical, it's Derek's, but he's crazy and living in the woods killing rabbits and howling all night. Two, I honestly don't want to! Cause I'm tired, my head hurts, my pack bond to everyone except Derek is fading away, and I'm about two seconds from a panic attack, and then you'll not only be hurt, you'll be hurt and in the same space as a scared coyote. So please don't ask any more questions" she requested, voice slurring as her eyes shut half way, going into a minor form of shock.

She didn't even see her dad enter the cave, didn't feel him scoop her up as Laura helped Scott to his feet. It was too much too soon, for her, and she was out of the game the minute she was in Peter's arms.


Derek watched his Mate sleeping, his naked form, half shifted, crouched low over the boy as he slept.

His new mate was beautiful, but different. Soft lines where Paige had been sharp angles, like him. He'd fit with Paige like a puzzle piece, and he would always miss her- would always hate himself for trusting Ennis for even a second.

When he'd killed Ennis, he'd seen her. He'd spoken with Paige. She'd told him to let go, to remember, but move on. 'Be happy' she'd told him, helping him become human again, almost. His thoughts were clearer now than they'd been in years.

If he could remember how to speak, he'd be set for life!

His mate stirred, and Derek moved away to give him space to move, and wake up. He looked at the little fire he'd gotten going (and wow had it felt good, to remember how to make fire!), and added some debris from the ground, leaves and twigs, before walking over to a fallen tree. He sank his claws in and tore the rotten wood apart with ease, splitting it in half. He broke it down into even smaller parts, then piled them onto the fire. There! His Mate would be warm, and not freak out about being cuddled by a naked wolf man.

He was making progress! Earlier that day he'd have just cuddled the boy,never mind how scared it might make him.

Give him some credit, he's trying.

His mate woke up, groaning a bit as he did, whining to himself as his head began to hurt, in that spot that's like right between your eyes but in the middle of your brain, you know the spot. It hurt, and Stiles didn't do well with headaches. They made him grumpy, tired, and very likely to throw things.

Derek watched him, waiting in still silence, the most quiet he could remember being in a very long time. His Mate was beautiful…

Stiles blinked his eyes open, giving a grumble. “Oh…” He mumbled, giving a sleepy grin. “I get my own naked angel now that I'm dead…”

Poor boy didn't realize he wasn't dead.

Chapter Text

Chris sighed. He could feel a headache coming on as he spooned some oatmeal into his father's mouth. Gerard had fallen victim to Alzhiemers, and spent most of his waking moments hitting Chris and yelling at him. It was like being a kid all over again!

Right now though, his father was a little more coherent. Which was both a good and a bad thing. He loved his father- he did- but the man needed to let his obsession with The Hales go. Yes, they'd killed Kate. Yes, they'd seduced Alex. Yes, yes, dad, vengeance, reclamation of our honor, why don't we play some scrabble,dad, or do a puzzle?

Allison had been so good though. As hard as it was to put up with his father, Allison didn't mind one whit. She came home from school, her homework done, and helped him take care of Gerard without complaint. It helped that she was happy to settle in one place, for good, this time. Beacon Hills had welcomed her with open arms. She had friends. She had a crush on a boy, lord help him.

Things had changed after Victoria had died. A hunt gone wrong, and not even for a monster. She'd been at a shooting range, and some idiot had shot her by complete accident. Allison had been five. Gerard had started getting sick soon after. She'd been 11 when Kate had died and her grandfather moved in with them.

"You're a horrible child..." Gerard grumbled. Chris merely held up another spoonful to his father's mouth, which the old man ate on instinct. The front door slammed shut, and was locked again. They used a padlock on the doors to keep Gerard from wandering off, and Allison dutifully locked it.Chris gave her a smile as she got into the kitchen. Gerard gave her a happy, if confused, smile, which she returned.

"Hey dad," she said, setting her backpack on the floor and taking a seat."Hey Grandpa. Did you have a decent day?"

Gerard mumbled, looking down, brows wrinkling.
He jerked up, looking at his granddaughter.
"Oh, Allie, when did you get here?" He asked. Allison smiled, patting his hand. "Just a few minutes ago, Grandpa." She assured him. "You didn't miss anything."

The old man nodded, accepting another spoonful of oatmeal. Chris gave his daughter a sad smile.
"Dad? I'm gonna leave you with Allison for a bit, alright?" He asked, getting a nod. "I'm all done with my oatmeal anyways, papa..." he mumbled, lost to them for the moment.

Chris pat Allison on the shoulder, sighing as he began to rinse the bowl. He felt his phone buzz, and he pulled it out.

/New Photo Message from: Hale Alpha/, the text on the lock screen told him. He frowned, opening it.

There was a dead body.
'Ennis.' He thought. His fingers tapped a rapid reply.
/Who killed him/

A few seconds, and a reply.