Characters:Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, a bunch of oc's, and some mentions of Derek Hale, Chris Argent, and pretty much most of the tw cast
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters.
Warnings:Character suffering from PTSD, depression,and alienation from normal life
Summary: After the War with Monroe came to a stand still, Scott tries to go back to school and lead a normal life. Fate unfortunately doesn't make things that easy, as the secret of the supernatural is revealed worldwide
Series: part one of 'An alpha never walks alone'
Stiles had been talking rapidly, all the way during the flight to Zürich. Scott could smell the guy sitting behind them getting more and more annoyed as the flight continued, and after the second hour he paid the steward to bring the guy some headphones. The man didn’t say a word, but he put them on, and it seemed to help, somewhat.
This was Stiles’ first big trip to Europe. His first trip off of the continent.
Scott had been all over the world by now, spreading warnings to packs of hyena and lion shifters in Nigeria and Kenia. Travelling days over the frozen tundra in Russia to find a small pack of wolves in Siberia. Travelling all across China to end up fighting hunters from working with gangs in Hong Kong, before they turned people against the shifters amongst them.
But most of his time had been spent in Europe, helping out packs in Normandy. Working with Isaac in Paris, heading to Wales with Jackson and Ethan. Hunting down a feral Omega that had started going after children in the woods near Dortmund.
This was almost old hat for him by now, or it should be at least.
Except this was the first time that Stiles would be there with him. Scott couldn’t stop smiling, rested and at ease for the first time in months, now that Stiles was by his side. He let the man that was more of a brother than a friend motor on and waited for Chris as they passed the ID point.
He saw Monroe in the distance, standing at the gates of the airport. She wasn’t hiding herself, she'd made sure that they'd see her. Stiles wanted to go after her, but they couldn’t, not in public. Monroe smirked, her hand moving to her side. She was armed, letting him know that she knew people in the airport that had let her smuggle their guns inside with them. When she left, turning her back to him and Stiles, it was another dig at him. She wasn’t scared of them. As if he wanted her to be.
He’d tried to talk with her, tried to make her see sense, or at least get the people with her to see sense. But they were fanatics. Ready to see him as an abomination that needed to be destroyed. It hurt him to hear them laugh at his offers of peace, to know that they’d die before they’d put down their weapons.
These people weren’t like the Argents, or even the Callaveras. Or any of the other old hunting families for that matter. He’d passed temporary treaties with over five of them, and all of them agreed on one thing, that Monroe and her people were impossible to deal with.
Chris was talking to one of the clerks. He was the one with the paperwork to bring weaponry with them. As far as the officials were concerned, Chris was here as the Argent CEO, Scott was his step son, getting a glimpse of the business during his gap year, and Stiles was Scott’s best friend who was taken along to keep Scott entertained, while Chris did some of his more … classified work.
The local organized crime groups were just as informative as the authorities, and both were just as likely to be infiltrated by Monroe’s people. Leaving Scott and Stiles to join the other members of the pack as a pair of messed up sneakers on the ground.
Of course, this meant that their hunt for information about Monroe was covered in night after night of going out clubbing. Scott spent more money on drinks in bars, than he’d done in his entire life. Sometimes he wondered what it would feel like to get drunk. But then he saw Stiles suffer from the hangover, and he was happy that he couldn’t.
Malia, Lydia and Isaac were waiting for them in tonight’s choice of club. Malia and Lydia had flown in a week earlier, to make sure the Pack wouldn’t attract too much attention. Liam was left behind in Beacon Hills. It might be school vacation, but his parents had wanted him to come to Miami with them for a family get away. Theo had promised to keep an eye on Beacon Hills while Liam was gone.
Scott wanted to trust the chimera, to believe that Theo really had changed. Stiles called him an idiot for doing so. He didn't know about the plans Scott had put in place just in case Theo disappointed him. Scott was an optimist, but he didn't fall for the same trap twice.
Derek had laid the groundwork with the local packs. Making sure they wouldn’t have a problem with a strange pack hunting in their territory. That and warning them of Monroe. Scott had been hoping that at least one of the Alphas would get involved, take over for once. But as it had been more and more the case, once they heard the ‘True Alpha’ was handling the situation, they just backed out and looked out for their own. As if he somehow had a clue what he was doing when they didn’t.
It was one of the more tiresome things about dealing with other Alphas, none them seemed to really want to take the initiative on anything that didn’t involve the immediate protection of their pack. So insular that it only made it easier for the hunters to pick them off one by one.
They still didn’t know how Monroe’s Hunters got the information on the packs that they had. Chis was starting to think they had a mole inside the Argent clan that was slipping them information. And the hunter wanted that leak gone, because how could he trust his network, if they might be slipping him lies to lure the pack into a trap.
Stiles and him split up, with Stiles joining up with Malia and Lydia. Scott caught the smell of gunpowder almost as soon as he entered the club, the arches of the doors were painted with rowan ashes and there were hints of rowan on the dance floor. It quite literally made him itch. He forced himself to take step after step. But it was too much.
He was shaking by the time he moved to the side, as far away from the Rowan as possible, realizing he’d caught the bartender’s eye. When the man pushed him a drink, Scott went along with it. He didn’t drink. He couldn’t trust anything offered to him here. He caught the man’s grin as he left behind an empty glass, its contents poured away out of sight.
He left the glass on the bar and moved towards the door, knowing he’d be followed, pretending to be swaying. Stiles and the others were already following behind them, at just enough of a distance so the hunters wouldn’t spot them right away.
“Was denkst du, was du hier machst, Wolf?“
Scott smiled, his hands went to his pockets. These guys clearly didn’t know even half as much as they thought they did. He didn’t speak though, just stopped. If these guys knew who they were dealing with, they’d have shot him, instead of said something. He was that high on their list of targets. They still didn’t, they were trying to get a rise out of him, maybe even some information. He could hear them mocking him, barking like a dog, their German accents harsh and unfamiliar.
Scott kept walking, pretending to ignore them. They followed, thinking they were leading him towards a trap. He could smell them from a block away. He didn’t care, letting them circle him.
„Diese Stadt ist nichts für dich. Deine Art hat keinen Platz unter den Menschen.“
“And what kind is that?” Scott turned around, acting as if they’d surprised him. His limited knowledge of German letting him understand just enough to know that they didn’t think his kind belonged here.
Seeing their righteous pleasure at this chance to take out a wolf. Giving them a chance to back off, even now.
He hadn’t done anything, wasn’t a threat. But it didn’t matter to them. They were out for wolf blood, and his was just as good as any other’s. He stared down at the ground, pretending to be scared
“Monster.” One of them hissed. “Verrückter hund!”
“Is that really how you guys treat a poor lost tourist?” he said, giving up the charade, as he raised his head and lit his eyes alpha red.
The hunters pulled away, scrambled for their guns. They still thought they had a chance. Scott shifted further, claws at ready. He knew he could take their guns before any of them could even think to fire their first bullet. They’d gotten too close to him. Amateurs were always easy that way.
“Need help, Scott?” Isaac and Malia jumped down from the roof where they’d been following him, Isaac’s eyes a bright blue. They looked so cold now, neither of them had brought up Allison, or why Isaac had left. It was too sore an issue for both of them.
Lydia and Stiles appeared on the other side.
“Nein, nein…” The hunters knew they were surrounded, but they were still not giving up without a fight. Scott wasn’t going to give it to them. They couldn’t afford it. Instead he threw the thorns he carried with him in a handkerchief, ready for just this kind of thing, careful not to touch them with his bare skin.
They fell down within instants; Jackson might still be an ass, but he had his uses, easy access to kanima venom definitely being one of them.
They stared at him, their eyes, their faces, the only part of themselves that they could still move. Their hears beating a rushed staccato.
Scott knelt down next to one of them.
“So tell me, do either of you guys speak English?” They just looked scared. ‘ Français? Russian? Japanese? No?”
He pulled out his phone. “I really think I need to learn some more languages.” Stiles clapped him on the back. A comfort. It didn’t help-
When Scott woke up, he was lying on a warm coated bench at the side of the cafeteria. His new pack, so fresh the bonds were still building, were trying to protect him. Steve was talking to someone that Scott couldn’t quite see. He could hear other people, murmuring, talking. One of Maria’s co-workers was offering her a fresh wet towel, as she tried to look after him, while students around them were talking, talking, incessantly.
Some worried, others…
It was all just so damn loud. Their smells hitting his nose, all at the same time, making him want to hide inside his head and just pretend they weren’t there.
Seeing Stiles injured, even if it was just a graze, pierced through him. “You shouldn’t be here, this is too dangerous.”
“As if you could ever keep me away.”
Tying a bandage over the wound, even one that had almost stopped bleeding already. What right did he have to ask Stiles to put himself in danger like this? Stiles was only human, this wasn’t his fight.
“Stop brooding, Scott, you’re starting to look like Derek, and he pulls it off a lot better than you do.”
“I just, I’d never forgive myself if you got hurt.” He tried not to look at the drops of blood that Stiles had already shed. “Really hurt I mean.”
“And you think I’d let you do this on your own?”
“I’m an Alpha, I never walk alone.”
“Stop being an idiot then.” Stiles bumped him against the chest, and everything felt right again. Scott had smiled and looked at Chris. Chris who was bandaging a wound where one of Monroe’s bullets had hit his shoulder. They shared a look. This… this was nothing. Except it was Stiles's blood in the air, and that made it something.
The other three Alphas were fighting, loudly, and Scott flinched at some of the words that were being thrown around. Even his German was good enough to realize just how much bad blood was spread in between the packs currently forced together.
“They’re not even being subtle. I’m telling you, they’re up to something”
Three children had been taken right as they left school. All three of them were wolves, one from each of the local packs. Their parents were desperate, begging Scott to please find them. The Alphas were furious.
“This is your fault, if you hadn’t brought that ’woman’ here.”
Stiles jumped in between them, wincing as he unsettled his bruises. “If we hadn’t followed her, you wouldn’t even know what was going on. Hell, if we weren’t here, who knows what she might have done to get them? The only reason you’ve still got a chance to save them, is because ‘we’ know who the hell we’re dealing with.”
“Stiles.” But Stiles didn’t care. He’d never really cared, Stiles always had this tendency, when he got scared, he got aggressive, hid his fear behind false bravado. In some cases it caused more trouble, in this one, no matter that he was human, and they weren’t, it actually made the Alpha back off.
“We’ll find them,” Scott promised, not quite sure if he could keep it. One of the alphas, a large black woman, stared up at him. One of the children taken had been hers. “We’ll find them, and bring them home. You have my word.”
“I’ll keep you to that,” she said as she turned away, ready to gather her pack. Glaring at the other Alphas in the room. Scott knew they didn’t get along, Monroe had used that to her advantage.
He wanted to tell people to stop shouting at one another, to stop arguing, to tell that that it was enough. But why would anyone listen?
It was distracting as they went into the woods, needing to keep an eye on four packs who’d fought one another more in the past century, than they’d faced with any hunter. Old rivalries were a dangerous thing to deal with.
Scott shivered as him and the others felt the demise of the local Nemeton, hearing it go down, feeling its dying scream. Monroe thought she was weakening them with its destruction, she had no idea how desperate a broken and dying Nemeton could be.
Scott couldn’t believe his eyes. Part of him wondered if he was still dreaming. Still too out of it. His senses just messing with him, making him think something was there, that wasn’t.
“Hey there, buddy.” Scott tried to get up, but Stiles pushed him back down. Scott was too weak to fight back, his entire body was hurting. “What the hell have you been doing to yourself, Scott? You should be healing by now.”
The pain had been worse than anything he’d ever imagined. But he’d known he had to hang on, to keep it together, save the children. He couldn’t let the darkness take over, Couldn’t… Stiles was screaming, yelling at him to come back, that he couldn’t leave him. But the white room beckoned… Pierced on the trunk of the tree. Isaac and Lydia were pulling the kids free already, and Scott roared, in pain, in anger. Fading away, into the roots.
“They’re just children.” He said, his face felt off.
Stiles looked scared, Steve was standing right behind him. “Scott, stay with us.”
But the past beckoned.
Monroe, holding a detonator, explosives drilled in between the roots. She’d already cut the tree, destroying it, the children were screaming, howling in pain as a dark fog slithered out from underneath the roots. Scott didn’t think it would be good.
“Please, you don’t know what you’re doing!”
“Getting rid of the likes of you. Freeing the world from every last monster that roams around in it.”
“It doesn’t have to be this way. We don’t have to be enemies.”
“This is the only way it can be.” She murmured, holding the spear forged from blessed silver as she forced it into him, ever deeper. “I will be your end, and the end of all your kind.”
Scott was bleeding. “Kill me, but let them go. They’re innocent.”
“There is no innocence in your kind.
He remembered the trunk of the tree, the blood sinking down to the roots as it burned, and knowing he had to stop it. The spear had had pierced him down up the trunk of the downed Nemeton, his blood used to destroy it And Monroe, her face an angry mask of rage, thinking she’d won.
“They’re just children.”
She was laughing maniacally as he died. Sacrificed, again, by the alphas who left him to his death, their children their first priority, by Monroe who hates him, and by Scott himself, who couldn’t let others die for him. The threefold sacrifice.
‘At least the children were getting away’ had been his last thought, as the Nemeton burned, and something underneath started rumbling.
He roared as he woke up again. Stiles slamming his chest to get him breathing again. “You’re here,” Scott said.
Stiles was hugging him before he could try and get up again.
“Course I’m here, you idiot. You’re my brother.” Scott let Stiles tears fall on him. “What have you been doing to yourself? Can’t I ever let you go off without someone to look out for you?” Scott could barely hear him rambling on. It didn’t matter, his Stiles was here, and something inside his heart slid back into place.
“I should have known you’d be here.” Scott smiled. “We did need someone to figure things out.”
“Figure what out?”
“The werewolf apocalypse.” Scott grinned as he said it, wincing as his insides started knitting together. Stiles looked at him, unsure what to say. Then smiling, then laughing.
Nobody else understood. It didn’t matter. They’d find a way.
Scott woke up in the white room. But where before it had been almost sterile, now the floor was covered in roots. Piles upon piles of roots, breaking through every part of the floor, leaving not an inch untouched.
He crawled over the roots, feeling them grow larger and larger with every inch he managed to move. He held onto his chest, feeling the injury as if it were an anchor holding him down.
Something roared ahead of him, he raised his head, his ears shifting to its sound. Another roar followed, and another, until finally he could no longer fight the urge, and his wolf roared back at them.
The roots underneath him started moving, pulling him along until finally they surrounded him, and he realized they weren’t roots, they were tails, endless tails leading to beings so magnificent, that it made him stare at them in awe.
The dragons, the trees, the Yggdrasil. He stared up as they mourned their fallen sister, the Nemeton lost under Monroe’s fire.
They roared once more and he felt their pain, their screams, their kindness as they took him in their embrace. One of them pulled him closer to its chest, and somehow he knew… He knew this dragon, this broken wounded old dragon, its scales splintered and damaged in fire and blood. He had felt its heart once before, he’d been a part of it as it called him its guardian.
He couldn’t stop himself, all he wanted to do was take their pain, to end their suffering. And he could feel their talons in his mind, and their kindness as they shared their dreams, their poetry singing in the furthest edges of his soul.
“Let us go young wolf, and we will rage upon the earth. We will tear their world asunder and make them pay for what they did to you, to us.”
“They don’t understand,” he whispered. “They are our blood, our people, even if they don’t know. They are ours.”
“They are monsters!” The dragons sang, their tails slithering around him, healing his wound and pulling him closer.
“They are innocents. They are of us, and we are of them.”
“Are they now? Are they of our blood, our reckoning?”
“They just don’t know,” Scott whispered. “Please, they don’t all deserve your wrath.”
The dragon’s talon touched his forehead and he knelt before it, offering his neck, his submission to this being so much more than himself. It looked into his mind, and saw him, all of him.
“So be it, young wolf.”
They were beautiful, so beautiful, as they passed their power on to the world, falling asleep once more, a sleep they might never rise from again.
And Scott woke in the fires of the Nemeton with a final roar, a last song to the Yggdrasil.
“We’ve got you, Scott, we’ve got you.” He stared up at Stiles, and he cried.
Outside the protestors were raging. The press was working themselves up, unsure if they should be talking up what a good law abiding werewolf Scott was, and how even werewolves had a right to go to school, or joining in with the protestors at the notions of monsters being a threat to the people around them.
And a week from now, hundreds of thousands, maybe even millions of werewolves would be going through their first full moon. It should be scaring the shit out of him.
But when he looked up and saw Stiles there, he knew they could handle it.