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Scott sprinted through the woods, cradling Lydia tight and trying his hardest not to jostle her. His arms were warm and sticky from her blood, and she was so much paler than usual. At least she was conscious, her eyes squeezed shut and her lips pressed together so that she didn't let out so much as a whimper, not a single sound except for her ragged, pained breathing.
Every breath he took had the smell of fear and pain and forest and blood.
They had to be getting close. They had to be; the Nemeton wasn't that far.
A howl went up behind him, closer than it had been two minutes before. Scott pushed himself faster and stumbled. Lydia cried out, bit it off almost as soon as it left her mouth, but he still heard it.
"Sorry," Scott said automatically.
Lydia's eyes snapped open. "Just go faster," she said through gritted teeth.
He did.
Scott catapulted himself off a fallen tree and hit the ground running, keeping his ears tuned to track the rest of the pack. He could hear Stiles crashing through the underbrush to his left, alternating between cursing in general and cursing at Derek in particular. To his right and ahead of him, Isaac and Kira were running flat-out, almost to the Nemeton. Danny had been with them, last he'd seen. Good.
Scott burst into the Nemeton's clearing and felt faint with relief at the sight of it, standing seventy feet high with heavy branches, as strong as if it had never been cut down in the first place.
Isaac and Kira were halfway to the tree, with Danny on Isaac's back. They practically dove under its branches, and Scott wasn't far behind them.
He skidded to a stop under the tree and set Lydia down with trembling arms, making sure she rested comfortably against the trunk. Scott pushed a lock of red hair off her sweaty face. "You okay?"
Lydia bit her lip and nodded, pressed a hand to her bloody side.
Scott covered her hand and grimaced at the pain he drew away. At least she felt pain, which meant they'd reached the Nemeton in time. She'd be okay. She had to be okay.
And if she wasn't, Scott was going to find the Beta that did this to her and take him apart, slowly.
He looked back over his shoulder, into the thicker trees. He still didn't see Stiles and Derek. Or hear them. Damn it.
"Go get them," Lydia said, like she could read his mind. "Go, Scott, I'll be fine."
Reluctantly, Scott straightened and took two steps back toward the forest. "Watch her," he ordered Isaac, who immediately knelt beside Lydia and started taking her pain himself.
Scott turned and ran, following his ears and nose. Another chorus of howls filled the forest, like a taunt. The other pack was too close for comfort, and after two and a half years as a werewolf, almost two years as an Alpha, Scott did not like the feeling of being prey.
He found Stiles leaning against a tree, one of Derek's arms looped over his shoulders. "Oh my God, you're like a bag of fucking bricks, move—" Stiles snapped his head up. "Scott, thank God."
Scott ran over and yoked Derek's limp arm around his neck. "I've got him. Go, Stiles, get to the tree."
Stiles glared and adjusted his grip on Derek's wrist. "Like hell I'm leaving both of you out here."
Years of friendship let Scott know he wasn't winning this fight, so he pulled most of Derek's weight onto himself and they scrambled through the underbrush, back toward the clearing. Scott kept one ear out for the other pack—close enough that he could hear them well, now—and the other on Stiles's and Derek's heartbeats, both rapid with adrenaline. Derek's was thinner than Scott would've liked, but when they got him to the Nemeton, it would all be okay.
Another howl sounded in the forest, and this one ended in a low chuckle.
Fury burned in Scott's bones, his vision bleeding red with it. How dare they come to his territory, threaten his pack, his friends, his family. He'd given them a second chance. Why the hell didn't they take it?
Someone was coming fast from the forest to their right. One of the other pack. Shit.
He shoved Derek's full weight onto Stiles. "Take him!"
Stiles cursed and stumbled, but stayed upright. "Scott, what the hell are you—"
Scott crouched and turned, just as a snarling werewolf jumped through the trees at them. He caught the guy and spun, flinging him upside-down into a tree. The Beta yelped and thunked headfirst on the ground.
Scott grabbed Derek's arm again and shifted his weight off Stiles. "Come on, let's move!"
Stiles gaped at him. "Holy shit, dude, I think that was the sexiest thing I've ever seen."
Somehow, Scott found the energy to roll his eyes.
"No, seriously. And I'm in a pack with a bunch of model-grade hot people, I know sexy."
"Stiles."
They made it back to the clearing, half-running, half-stumbling to safety under the Nemeton. Scott and Stiles sat Derek down next to Lydia, up against the tree, and he grunted. It was the first sound Scott had heard him make.
Stiles yanked off his plaid shirt and shoved it onto a wound on Derek's chest. "We can't fucking win. We let the bad guys go, they come back and try to kill us. We kill the bad guys, they rise from the fucking dead and try to kill us." His voice was shaking. "Clearly we have to evacuate the town and then nuke it from orbit. It's the only way to be sure, probably the only way to make sure you don't fling yourself in front of a fucking Alpha to save people, you goddamn werewolf martyr—don't you fucking pass out on me when I'm yelling at you, Derek!"
Scott pressed one hand to the tree trunk and the other hand to Lydia's shoulder to draw out her pain once again. She gave him an approving murmur and squeezed his hand, then left hers on top.
"You're going to be okay," Scott said. He had no idea if he was reassuring Lydia or himself.
Lydia leaned her head back and smiled up at him, one of her rare genuine smiles that punched Scott sideways and made him understand why Stiles had nursed a crush on her for the better part of a decade. "I know," she said.
He rested his head against the tree for just a moment, pushing all the other scents and sounds out of his mind except for smell of the tree and the smell of pack. Help us, he thought. Please. Help me keep them safe.
A breeze ruffled across the back of his neck, and Scott felt the warmth of a smile and a sense of comfort. He let out the first easy breath he'd taken since they'd come into the Preserve.
"Scott," Kira said warningly, from where she and Isaac stood on guard near the edge of the Nemeton's cover.
He squeezed Lydia's shoulder and stood, stepping away from the trunk to stand between Kira and Isaac. Danny stayed back between Lydia and Derek, gun held loosely in his hand. Scott smiled. Danny couldn't take pain, but he was moral support and a good shot. The pack was as ready as they'd ever be.
The other pack sauntered into the clearing then, six Betas—including the one Scott had pitched into a tree—and one unfortunately familiar Alpha.
"Well," Deucalion said with a smirk. "I daresay that tree's grown a bit since I last visited your charming town."
Scott signaled Kira and Isaac to stay where they were. They were safest by the tree, and the closer Deucalion's pack came, the easier it would be for Scott's.
"We gave you a second chance," he said. "You weren't always like this."
Deucalion twirled his cane, not that he needed it anymore. Scott couldn't figure out why he still carried the damn thing. "Yes, you did. And you are right; I was as idealistic as you once. I truly believed we could come to some sort of accord between werewolves, hunters, and humans." Deucalion scoffed. "But when the world itself conspires to prove you wrong, at some juncture you come to admit the world may have a point."
He ambled forward, his Betas following in his wake, and Scott braced himself against the fierce urge to spring forward and destroy that surged in his blood. He wasn't a 16-year-old kid without control anymore; he was an Alpha with a pack and a town that demanded his protection. He would die to protect them both, but not needlessly.
"There's never going to be peace, Scott," Deucalion said. "We're never going to get along. We hide ourselves from humans, and for what purpose? We're stronger, faster, better than they are. It's merely evolution, the survival of the fittest. The predator never runs from prey."
"Oh my God, are you getting your villainous monologues from Magneto now?" Stiles stood up, but didn't move from his position next to Derek. "Is your pack the Brotherhood of Evil Werewolves? Because let me tell you, dude, I've read this comic a few dozen times and it never turns out well for your side. Ever."
Deucalion raised an eyebrow. "This is how you make your stand? Two werewolves, a kitsune, and two humans armed only with a gun between them?" He shook his head. "I must say, I'm disappointed. I expected so much more from a true Alpha."
"Enough talking." Scott shifted, extending fangs and claws. "You want us, come and get us."
Beside him, Isaac snarled and Kira drew her sword. Deucalion swung his cane up, and the Betas charged.
Scott bit his lip to keep back a smile. Perfect.
He took two steps back, motioned Kira and Isaac to fall back with him. The leaves of the Nemeton rustled without benefit of any kind of breeze, but the other wolves were too intent on Scott's pack to notice.
As soon as the first Beta stepped within range, one enormous branch swung down and slammed into her side. The wolf flew through the air in a perfect arc and disappeared into the trees a good hundred yards away. The second Beta went fifty yards in the opposite direction.
The other four hesitated then, as if they finally realized just how dangerous a charge was, but they were too close. Branches swung like bats and the Nemeton groaned with the force of her blows. When one Beta tried to turn and run, a root burst from the ground, snaked around his foot, and dragged him back into the dirt with it.
In less than two minutes, Deucalion was the only one left in the clearing.
Scott crossed his arms over his chest. "You were saying?"
If Deucalion was feeling unsettled, it didn't show. He simply tapped his cane on the ground and chuckled. "So, what happens now? I think we both know you aren't going to kill me, Scott. You simply don't have it in you."
Behind him, Stiles muttered, "I do."
Scott shot him a look that meant be quiet before he turned his focus back to Deucalion. "You're right. I'm not going to kill you. But then, it's no longer my decision."
Deucalion scoffed. "Are you going to put it to a pack vote? Honestly."
"No." Scott gestured to the Nemeton behind him. "You're on her turf now."
"Her?" Deucalion sneered. "While I do appreciate the existence of a magic tree, I think you're giving it far too much credit. I'm not terribly concerned about the opinion of a giant arboreal—"
Three wooden arrows struck him: two in his chest and one through his throat, cutting off whatever else Deucalion was planning on saying. He stayed upright for a moment, blinking comically, and then slumped to one side. A second later, the sharp, coppery scent of blood filled the air.
Scott took a few tentative steps out from the Nemeton, watching for movement, but when he didn't see any, he kept walking. The clearing was quiet now; at least, as quiet as it ever got for a werewolf. The forest was filled with the sound of life: the chirp of birds, the beat of wings, the whine and buzz of insects, the crunch of leaves as a squirrel dashed through them. None of his pack spoke, though Scott could still hear their heartbeats and breathing behind him. He listened closer to Lydia and Derek, felt a knot in his stomach loosen at the way they were both breathing easier.
The loudest sound this far from the tree was the sickening gurgle of labored breathing.
He soon stood over Deucalion, and Scott could see and smell where the wounds were trying to close around the arrows. He reached out to remove the one in Deucalion's throat, but the wood burned his hand as soon as his fingers brushed it.
Rowan. Of course it was. Scott wasn't even surprised; she'd known he'd be compassionate. Message received, he thought with a wry smile at the Nemeton.
Then he turned his attention back to Deucalion. "You're wrong about the world."
Judging by the way Deucalion's mouth moved, Scott guessed he was trying to speak, but nothing came out. Well, it was good to know all he could do right now was listen.
Scott settled on the ground next to him. "My pack has foxes and wolves, humans and hunters, druids and banshees, and an ancient tree. We're bound together by the forces we've faced, the friends we've lost, and the blood we've spilled, both ours and others. We may not be a normal pack, or 'pure' by your standards, but we are a pack. And we're so much stronger together than we ever were apart."
He looked back to his pack, protected under the branches of the Nemeton. "And if we can make it work, then believe me, there's hope for the rest of the world."
Scott stayed, keeping vigil as the other Alpha's heartbeat slowed, faded, and then finally stopped completely. He waited another few minutes, then stood, wiped the dirt and grass off his jeans, and walked back to the Nemeton.
"Is he dead?" Isaac asked as soon as Scott was within human hearing distance.
Scott nodded, and took another look over his shoulder. The arrows pinning Deucalion's body to the ground had already taken root as saplings. "Isaac, Danny, Kira, head through the Preserve and make sure the other Betas are on their way out of town, if they haven't left already. Meet back at the loft when you're finished."
Danny tucked away his gun and Kira sheathed her sword, and Isaac ran his hand over the trunk of the Nemeton before saluting Scott and leading the others into the forest.
"Stiles, can you let your dad know we've taken care of things?" Scott asked.
Stiles gave him a thumbs-up and hauled Derek to his feet. "Come on, Grumpy McLeather, you're with me."
Derek scowled and pressed a hand to his still-healing chest. "Scott didn't say—"
Scott hid a smile. "Derek, go with Stiles and keep him out of trouble."
"Hey!" Stiles protested.
Derek smirked, and then jerked his chin to Scott and Lydia. "What about you two?"
"I'll make sure she gets back," Scott said. "And remember—"
"Meet at the loft, yeah, yeah." Stiles waved a hand dismissively and let Derek use him as a crutch, the two of them bickering companionably as they headed back into the forest.
Scott sat at the base of the Nemeton, next to Lydia. "How do you feel?"
She snorted and shifted her weight against the tree. "Considering one of those idiots tried to use me like a chew toy, just peachy."
He examined her side, which was no longer bleeding and didn't smell infected, thank God. "We should get you to the hospital."
Lydia shook her head. "No. Just give me a few more minutes." She craned her head up and smiled at the branches of the Nemeton. "She's taking care of me."
Scott couldn't stop his own smile in return. It was one of the first things they'd noticed when the Nemeton started growing again: Pack members healed faster when they touched her bark. And if anyone else had noticed that the Nemeton was more protective of Lydia, him, and Isaac than the others, well, nobody had mentioned it. "We'll go see Deaton, at least."
"Naturally." Lydia dropped her gaze back to him. "Are you okay?"
Scott thought about feigning misunderstanding, but even without benefit of werewolf hearing, Lydia could spot a lie from a mile away. He stared at the arrow-saplings out in the clearing. "Yeah. I just...hate it when things end this way." He waved his hand toward Deucalion's body. "No more chances."
Lydia followed his gaze. "You believe in redemption."
"Yeah." Scott sighed. "Stupid, I know."
"Not stupid," Lydia said. "Hopeful. It's one of the things that makes you a good leader."
The unexpected compliment tugged another smile to his face. "Really?"
"Well, that and your foresight to keep people around who will do what you can't." Lydia touched the bark of the tree with another small smile. "Well, figuratively speaking."
They sat in silence a little longer, but Scott couldn't keep his eyes from sliding back to the still-bloody bite on Lydia's side.
"Are you expecting that bite to do something?" Lydia asked.
Scott jerked back, felt his cheeks heat. He knew she would be all right; he knew it. But it still didn't erase the fear and rage from seeing the Beta attack her, the sick anxiety of feeling her blood on his arms. It was still there, dried and rust-scented, and he rubbed at his forearms to remove it.
"I don't like seeing you get hurt," he said. "The pack, I mean. I don't like seeing the pack get hurt. I'd do anything to keep it from happening."
And maybe, maybe it was because it was Lydia that was hurt. But Scott didn't want to examine that too closely, not right now.
She stretched and grimaced a little. "All right, I think I can walk. At least back to the car."
Scott immediately scrambled to his feet. "I can carry you."
Lydia tossed her hair and stood, using one hand to steady herself on the tree. "I said I can walk."
Scott stayed close, ready to help in case Lydia needed it. She took two steps and then stumbled, pitching right into him. He caught her around the waist and she landed heavily against his chest, and for just a moment, his nose was full of the smell of Lydia's strawberry shampoo, and wow, that...made him a little more breathless than he thought it would.
"Are you okay?" Scott asked.
Lydia tightened her grip on his arms, a faint blush heightening on her cheeks. "Yeah. Yeah. I, uh...guess I'm not as steady as I thought."
Scott looked at the ground behind her just in time to see a root bury itself once again, and fought back a grin. Subtle.
"It's okay," he said, and adjusted his arm more firmly around Lydia's waist. "Just lean on me."
As they walked back toward the cars, Scott cast one last glance over his shoulder at the Nemeton. Thanks, Allison, he thought to the tree. For everything.
He swore he heard Allison's mischievous laughter in response, dancing on the wind.