Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Since we had moved to New York, I continued to push myself harder and harder. Laura always tried to get me to have fun, but she never succeeded unless she was right at my side. My only interest was keeping Laura safe. My interests came longer after her life.

There was a time when I would leave to train myself in the afternoon. Laura always assumed I was just going for a run. In truth, there was always more to it than just running. On top of running, there were weights, and, when it got late enough, I would shift to hone my senses. Because of the unique family heritage that Laura and I carried, it wasn’t the best idea to become a regular at any gym, but I would still stop in and get a guest membership when I got wind of any kind of sparring matches or lessons going on.

If nothing else, I watched, learning by their example and finding the flaws that needed to watch out for myself. When the chances arose, I would join the fights and prove that I hadn’t lost touch with what my father had gotten to teach me, or that I was inept at teaching myself. It was rare that I lost, and even if I did, I made sure I could take a beating so that I could buy Laura time to get away if the situation ever arose.

These sessions happened on a daily basis, occupying no less than an hour each time. It would consist of a run, usually to and around the expansive Prospect Park that wasn’t incredibly far from our residence in Brooklyn. There I could get lost in the trees and shift, a venture that required the cover of night, and train my senses into sharpening.

It was on one of these nights, as I was running along a lakeside path, that I was suddenly halted at gunpoint. I could sense already that the man was excited. His heart rate was high, his pupils dilated, covered in a thin layer of sweat, and I could smell the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

His gun shook ever so slightly in his hand, making what should have been a frightening experience pitiful and almost comic instead. I could hear footsteps ruffling the grass and dry leaves just out of the range of average human vision. My assailant was younger than me, probably just a teenager trying to prove his toughness to his audience.

“Empty your pockets, man. I’ll shoot your sorry ass.” He ordered, waving his gun at me to try to speed up the process.

My head tilted slightly to the side, a grin forming on my lips. “You’re robbing a runner, genius. How much do you think I’m really going to be carrying?” I question, making no move to satisfy his demands.

He pressed the gun against my chest, pulling the hammer of his handgun back to show how serious he was. Cautiously, I scanned the man, testing him for any sign of being a Hunter. Of course, there were none. This boy wasn’t one of them. The Hunters brainwashed themselves into believing they were doing a service to mankind. It didn’t seem like their style to pull off a mugging without at least adding a little flair of their own. I was too careful not to be seen by any Hunters anyway so I was brave enough to handle this confrontation without any concerns.

“The fuck is wrong with you, man? I’ll shoot you, bitch! Empty your pockets now!” He barked louder, his face curling into a snarl.

I had never been threatened like this before, but I was a born alpha. I would never be an alpha now unless I fought my sister and ripped the position from her, but it didn’t change how I interacted with everyone other than Laura.

“I have nothing to give you.” I told him firmly, glaring at the mugger as my jaw tensed. It was a lie of sorts. There was an iPod clearly resting in its armband snugly hugging my left bicep. My cell phone, while being a bit out of date, was tucked in my pocket along with a money clip holding my ID and a fifty-dollar bill. While a lie in that I did have something to offer, my attacker would be getting nothing tonight.

“You want to get shot? Fine, fucker, I’ll just take your shit once you’re bleeding out.” He yelled menacingly, his hand tensing as he pulled the trigger.

Already my mind was in overdrive. I stumbled back and fell into a knee, letting out a groan of pain as blood started flowing out of the wound. I knew the wound was relatively minor given that the kid had the chance to aim straight at my heart or brain. Instead, the bullet penetrated my chest just below the outer edge of my left collarbone, exiting my body through a hole in my shoulder blade that hadn’t existed prior. All things considered, it could have been much worse.

My body was revving itself up for a fight now. It pumped out the adrenaline at an alarming rate, pouring endorphins into my bloodstream to combat the pain until I was safer. My eyes lit up like a flash of lightning on a stormy night, glowing brightly as I brought myself to my feet. The pain was present but negligible by the time I was on my feet. I was losing a good bit of blood, my gray shirt stained black with it, but it made no difference to me.

“Holy shit! What the fuck is wrong with you, man?” The mugger cried, spinning around to run as he watched my ears and teeth elongate. A snarl ripped through my throat and I pounced the boy, closing the distance between us with a single leap.

He fell, and I slammed his head into the packed earth of the pathway before I took the pistol from his unconscious body and hurled it into the lake. I was tackled by the mugger’s companion, another coming from the side to kick me in the ribs with a steel-toed boot. I could tell one of my ribs cracked, but the endorphins coursing in my body to cover the pain of the gunshot wound covered the cracked rib with ease.

I threw the man on top of me a few feet away and I was in a crouching position in a flash, my claws grabbing the ankle of the man in steel-toed boots, swinging him around and launching him into the trunk of a Cyprus tree. He crumpled to the ground in an unmoving heap as the final attacker got to his feet. I was punched in the face and stumbled back a step. He advanced on me, backing me towards the water as he pulled his gun out of the waistband of his pants. Before the gun left the fabric of his pants, he was punched in the face so hard that his nose erupted with blood and he fell onto the ground. The criminal once again tried reaching for his gun as he started crawling away from me.

I ripped the gun from his grasp and tossed it into the water as well. He came at me again and I grabbed his hand and flipped him onto the ground. I was seeing only red by this time. I had drawn no blood yet and the wolf inside of me was howling for it. I pulled his arm, setting my boot firmly against the man’s chest. I would teach him never to try this with anyone again. I would make sure that he could never try it on anyone again. He cried out and begged me to stop as I could feel the ligaments in his shoulder stretching, straining unsuccessfully against the force of my grip to keep his shoulder in place. A little harder and they would give. A little harder still and skin, muscle, blood vessels, all of it would give and I would have in my hands the trophy of my training. The wolf would be sated and I could taste of my quarry if the wolf willed it.

“Son, there are seven sins that comprise all wrongdoings. We were a given a gift to test ourselves and those around us. Both sides have failed on many accounts, but just because there are more of them than there are of us does not mean we have more of a right to any of those sins. If anything, it necessitates that we be virtuous. They don’t realize that they have given themselves to pride and wrath as often as we have. They won’t see that they are no less of an abomination than we are. They think that we are born of deals with demons, when they carry just as much evil. What they fear is they are defenseless against us, and even though it has been proven that this is not true, fear is not based on fact. We are not better than them. You can do things that they cannot dream of. But, we have weaknesses that would not harm them. We are all equal. Do not let pride blind you to that, Derek. When you are wronged, you must let it go. Do you remember the things I would read to you when you were younger?” It was a speech that my father had given me one day when I got into a fight at school. Even know I could feel my head nodding to answer the question that rang in his strong voice. I remembered.

“I was angry with my friend: I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow.” I parroted, the voice I heard that of a much younger Derek Hale.

“Good.” My father’s voice cut me off before I recited the rest. “What else?”

“Revenge, at first thought sweet, Bitter ere long back on itself recoils.” I answered.

“Very good. Do you know what that means Derek?” He asked patiently.

I shook my head. I had no clue what any of my own words meant. I had only committed them to memory because I had heard them so many times.

“I should have asked you sooner.” He said with a grin, squeezing my shoulder. “A boy your age has no business understanding the words of men that came long before him. Maybe I should have started with more direct men. Confucius said that before you seek revenge, you should dig two graves, one for your enemy and one for yourself. Revenge does nothing but hurt all sides. That’s what Milton was getting at when he said ‘Bitter ere long back on itself recoils.’” My father explained. It made much more sense coming from my father like this than it had when he read it from the old books that were worn down by time. “The point is, Derek, that there is never an ‘even.’ The only way to truly get even with a person is to forgive them. Instead of fighting back, you have to tell them that you’re sorry for what you did just like you would do for any of the pack. Just because you can win in a physical fight doesn’t mean that you should. You’re better than that. Violence should always be a last resort, never a means to an end. We should control the wolf. If it owns us, we are no better than the people who we are forced to hide our true selves from, and we deserve whatever they do to us.”

With my father’s voice still ringing in my ears, I forced myself back into my human form. It should have been a difficult task after what had happened, but I found my anger drawn from my body and the shift was easy. I let go of the man’s arm and left them there to pick themselves up.

The flow of blood from the gunshot had already slowed, and I made my way to a bench on the far side of the park. I flopped down onto the bench, lying there for a while as the skin grew back to close my wounds.

It was then that I decided to get the tattoo. I took a bullet and a cracked rib; I could take a needle. It would be a permanent reminder of what had happened to my family. A permanent reminder of my father’s words.

I dumped the bloodied shirt in a trashcan and found a tattoo parlor. When I left, the spiraling triskelion was branded into my flesh between my shoulders. The triskelion symbolizes reincarnation and the constant movement of the universe. The spiral, our symbol of revenge, tied right into the tattoo naturally. This would be my promise to carry my family and see to it that they would not be lost, that my eyes would be open to watch as the universe claimed its revenge, one at a time, against those people who murdered my family until one day it was my turn to atone for my hand in the fire. True to my father’s words, I would not go out and seek the revenge I thirsted for, but I would not deny myself the pleasure of watching as karma did its work.

“Derek Hale, what were you thinking?” Laura demanded when I emerged from my shower and was digging through my drawers for something to wear. I pulled on a light gray long-sleeved tee, giving my sister my best What-are-you-talking-about look. My brow furrowed and I stared into her eyes curiously before searching my sister’s face for any sign that she had seen more than just the tattoo. “Don’t you look at me like that. What were you thinking, getting a tattoo? Mom would have killed you.”

I shrugged lightly, crossing my arms over my chest. I was relieved that she hadn’t gotten a chance to find out the full extent of what had happened today. My body was swiftly recovering and the bulk of the damage had already been fixed. It would take a couple days for me to be healed completely, but I could move with only twangs of pain and some stiffness already.

Laura sighed and shook her head. “Well, I guess it’s too late to do anything about it now. You’re not planning on doing anything, are you?” She asked, turning me back around and tugging my shirt up to get another look. I felt her fingers follow a spiral. It stung faintly against the newness of the tattoo, but thanks to our rapid healing she probably had no idea of just how new it was. Laura’s frown was clear in her voice when she spoke again. “Derek, you can’t go messing with the Hunters.”

We had never really discussed it for more than a passing comment, but we had both reached the consensus that the Hunters were to blame for the slaughter of our family. Who else would just decide to trap an entire family and burn their home down with the family inside?

“I won’t. I just wanted it so I wouldn’t forget…” I answered thoughtfully, my hands clenching in tight fists. I think she understood. At least she thought that she understood what I meant. I’m sure she guessed correctly minus the little insertion that their fate would have to be shared with me as well.

I didn’t exactly have any right to go out and seek revenge against the people that killed my family when I was one of them anyway, but I couldn’t possibly reassure Laura by pointing that out to her.

There was a long pause, and I think Laura was thinking about the family, about the fire.

“So, what’s for dinner?” She changed the subject as she pulled my shirt back down. I could tell that she was forcing a smile onto her face.

She knew by being upset, she put me on edge. She didn’t like seeing the boy who used to be able to joke and make her smile so easily awkwardly stumbling over the words he hoped would put a smile back on her face. At first, when we were both still recovering from our losses, I think it genuinely worked to make her a little happier. Then, it became a fact. I wasn’t that same boy any more. Now, I was pretty sure that she smiled to make me stop. I could see the sorrowful nostalgia flit across her eyes when I struggled to pull a joke from the recesses of my memory, straining myself to get it out right, trying so hard to make it sound natural that I missed the mark every time.

“I thought I’d try mom’s cubed steak. I know you loved it when she would cook it and we’ve been eating a lot of salads and chicken lately since we’ve been so busy with classes.” I replied, turning to look at her face.

She smiled for real this time and hugged me. Stiffly, I hugged back and offered a grin in return. “And you thought some real home cooking would be a nice change. Aren’t you an amazing brother?”

“The best.” I answered, forcing the sarcasm I wanted to use out of my voice for Laura’s sake. I had gotten into the habit of cooking dinner whenever I had the time because I had gotten sick of restaurants after I nearly got into a fight with a yuppie when he tried to impress his friends by flirting with my sister who showed no interest in the pig’s ceaseless advances. Laura pulled me away and left the money on the table for our meals, her tight grip stopping me from beating down his bravado as his voice followed after us. Laura would always help me cook if she was able, and that was one of those days. She seemed to really enjoy my cooking even though she spent more time taking those lessons from my parents than I had.

Chapter Text

“Derek – Derek! Calm down! I’m okay.” Laura’s voice called over the receiver.

“Laura, you should have told me.” I smoldered, finally calming down now that my sister had finally called him back.

“I texted you before the plane took off. You were in class. You needed to focus.” Laura cooed, her voice going into the soft, singsong tone that she used to use when I couldn’t sleep in that other life we shared together. A tone that now irritated me because it was a reminder that this didn’t have to be my fate. I had done this to myself, to my sister, to my family. I was Atlas Telamon, taunted by the memories of the times before the burden was placed on his shoulders.

“Derek. Derek. Derek.” Laura said, still using that same lyrical voice. I could practically feel her finger prodding me for the first syllable of my name, into my ribs once, my chest second, and finally my cheek. She had done that when we were younger, on days when I was being particularly difficult to wake up. It never failed to force me into consciousness.

“I’m coming, Laura.” I said firmly, not wanting to give her room to argue with me.

“No, you aren’t.” She countered, her voice dropping an octave. It was the voice of the alpha. She’d gotten better about using it around the time we started arguing about what I would do after graduation. While it was in no way absolute, especially between the two of us, it showed just how serious she was. Her voice was softer, that of my dear, sweet sister when she spoke again. “You have that test coming up, Derek. You need to be there.”

“They’ll have to work with me if I tell them the situation.” I argued, but Laura just laughed at me.

“Derek. Really? What situation is that? Your sister went out of town to check on your comatose uncle and you want to tag along?” She teased, earning a low growl from me. “I know, I’m sorry. But you don’t need to worry. Just stay there, Derek. I’m going to see what’s going on with Uncle Peter, and then I’ll be back, okay? I promise. I’ll text you every two hours so you know I’m all right.”

“Every hour.” I demanded. If I was going to have to give in to Laura, it was going to happen on my terms.

“Fine. Every hour.” She consented, and somehow I felt that she had upped the stakes just to get me to settle with something more reasonable than driving straight to California in her Camaro that she had painted black and had given me as a graduation present telling me that she was never as good as driving it as I had become. “I know you have a test, Derek. Go study. Take care of yourself. If I find out you skipped out on meals when I get back, I’m going to make you sleep in that Camaro of yours. And I’ll keep all the pillows.”

I grunted in reply and could feel the roll of my sister’s eyes through the receiver. She hated it when I gave a grunt as an answer. She knew that it meant that she had guessed my thought process too closely for me to deny outright yet was unwilling to admit as a truth. Without Laura safe and nearby, I would have no use for food. My appetite would dwindle and whatever food I would try to eat just to keep her happy would taste like ash anyway.

“Derek. Please eat, okay? You don’t have to worry about me so much. I’ll be back in a week.” Laura said softly, her voice that of a worried sister.

“Fine.” I replied begrudgingly. “Just be careful.”

“You too. And Derek? I love you.” She said, and I knew the sense of relief she felt when she said it. No matter what, we would have that. We were a pack, we were family, and nothing could change that. Every time she said it, she would get this little smile that curled her lips ever so slightly. Anyone else might have missed it, but I never did. I always saw it.

Every time she said it, my jaw would clench so tightly that I could chew diamonds. I hope she never noticed, or that if she did, she attributed it to me thinking of our family lost in the inferno. The only thing that came to mind for me were the horrible things that it meant for the people around me. I had told my mother that I loved her. I had told my father that I loved him. I had told my entire family that I loved them. And I showed it by holding our enemy’s hand, pulling her into my home and showing her all of our weaknesses. I showed it by allowing them to burn without being able to stop the events that I had set in motion. My sister was all that I had left. After what I had done, did I even deserve her? Did I deserve someone who genuinely smiled when she said she loved me? I didn’t want to push it enough to find an answer. I didn’t want to lose the last person I really had left.

“I love you too. Take care, Laura.” I said after the usual pause. She was so used to it that she didn’t question it. It was just another quirk in our communications that formed after the fire.

“You too, Derek.” She said before the line went dead.

Every hour, I would get a text and we would have a brief conversation. She would always start with “I’m fine.” And go from there. How was my studying? Beacon Hills hasn’t changed at all. Could I believe that Sheriff Stilinski was still the sheriff to this day? Dad really must’ve made sure to pick the right man for the job. Even our house looked untouched by time.

The fifth hour passed. I was on a run. It was late in Beacon Hills, which meant that it was early in New York. It took me ten extra minutes to realize that she didn’t text me. I stood on the stoop of our little home, staring at my phone and willing the text to appear to no avail.

Laura, you’re ten minutes late. I sent the message to her before going inside. I checked my phone before I got into the shower, when I got out, when I had dressed, as I poured a glass of water, after I finished drinking the water, as I poured and drank another. Finally, it was just too much. I had been patient. Her message was forty minutes late. That was more time than I should have given her when it came to her safety.

I called, left a message, called again, left another message, repeated once, twice, three times until my messages were angry and full of concern. All the while I was throwing clothes into a bag. After about ten phone calls, I took a break to throw everything into the Camaro and call my professor to explain that there was a family emergency I had to handle so I had no choice but to miss the test and that I would call again at a better time to explain more fully. With that out of the way, I got in the car, calling again. This time I didn’t bother leaving any messages. If she didn’t get the first eight, she wouldn’t be getting the next one thousand.

I sped away from New York, glad that it was as late as it was. The streets would be the emptiest that the streets of New York could be. The amount of phone calls began to vary wildly as I drove towards California. At times, it might span two hours between phone calls, others I might call constantly for an hour at a time. I didn’t sleep, didn’t eat, didn’t stop for anything but gas until I was in Beacon Hills. It took me one day, twenty hours, and eighteen minutes in total to go from Brooklyn to the charred remains of my old home in Beacon Hills. Being in the town caused a lump to form in my throat. Seeing the house made it nearly impossible to breathe and I felt that my heart would harden to stone, and I along with it, as though the house had transformed into a Gorgon in my absence.

The house seemed as good a place as any to start my search for Laura. Her scent was everywhere, but it wasn’t fresh. Laura hadn’t lied about the house. It really hadn’t changed since the fire. No one snuck in to steal the jewelry that had gotten left behind in Laura’s haste to get out of town. No squatters took up residence in my family’s ancestral home. It simply stood; a ruined monument to a once great family on the outskirts of Beacon Hills.

I couldn’t blame them for staying away. The house was broken and vacant, but it was still filled by the memories of decades of Hales living happily under its roof, the ghosts of the people who died here, the shame at the fact that I was the catalyst of the disaster.

I heard the report of the charred stairwell, mimicking my sister’s excited footsteps. It reminded me of the cool winter afternoon when she bounded up the stairs and into my room, falling into my bed next to me. She took the book from my hands and set it on the nightstand, staring at me until she had my full attention.

“Derek.” She said excitedly, squeezing my arm. “Andrew asked me out on a date. Isn’t that amazing?” Before our losses, before having to take on the role of the alpha, her smiles were so honest, so full of genuine, untainted happiness. The house was intentionally torturing me with these memories, knowing the cues needed to stir them from the depths of my mind after years of sharing them with me.

I smiled back at Laura and nodded, pulling myself up onto my elbows. “That’s great. Is he going to be your mate?” I asked, and Laura just laughed at me and mussed my hair.

As I fixed it, she shook her head and scratched my back affectionately. She always knew just where to scratch to turn me into a whimpering puppy. “We’re allowed to be normal, you know. Just because I’m going on a date doesn’t mean that we’re going to be mated. You know what fun is?” She teased me, prodding me in the ribs. I flinched away from her fingers and it turned into a game of keep-away between my sides and her nailed fingers.

We were interrupted by my mother’s voice calling our names, and Laura put her arms around me and rested her head on my shoulder. She appeared in the doorway, the smile on her lips very much like my sister’s; purely happy even though I knew she had been through far more than my sister. I always admired her for being so able to let go of everything. “Alright, you two. I expect everything to be spotless by the time your family starts showing up. Try not to make a mess. Laura, help your brother remake his bed and go outside if you want to play, alright?”

I shook the memory away with a growl, glaring at the stairs as though they could apologize for evoking such bittersweet thoughts. Suddenly, the air was filled with sirens, dozens of voices, and barking dogs. I went to the window and peered out into the woods. They were swarming with cops. From the way they were fanning out, I could assume a manhunt, but why? Had a Hunter found Laura? Had she survived the attack and gone to the police? Did a Hunter kill someone while going after my sister and throw the blame onto the nearest werewolf? I would have to wait to find out for certain.

The fatigue of not having slept for nearly two days was weighing down on me, and sleeping would give the police time to clear out of the woods so I could really start searching for my sister. I climbed into Laura’s bedroom, the closest one to the stairs, and fell asleep quickly.

Chapter Text

The bang of the door closing jerked me from the peace of a heavy, dreamless sleep. I swear the house was really just toying with me now. The sound was still far too familiar to be nothing more than a light draft. It was a perfect copy of the simple, collected knock of Uncle Peter that was followed by the sound of another door sliding open as though Laura was running out of her room to greet him before I could get the chance.

I sat up in my bed, supporting myself with one arm. A hand moved to rub my eyes, but I stopped and let out a groan as I flopped back onto the mattress. Torso was covered in a gossamer film of sweat, speckled with patches of dirt drinking the moisture on my body and slowly turning to mud. On top of the dirt thickly caked under my nails, my hands tingled painfully and the reminder was enough to send goose bumps running over my skin. My body fought back with a violent shiver. I clenched my teeth and tore lose from my body’s natural reaction, willing the tremor out of my muscles.

I got to my feet, clenching and unclenching my fists to try to work out the numbness. It wasn’t working, and I wondered if I wasn’t careful enough. I pushed that thought aside; I knew I would survive. The tingling was just a reminder of what I found in the woods.

When I woke from my earlier rest, I found that the police had gone and used the opportunity to scour the woods for any signs of my sister. A part of me knew to expect no good results from my search, but nothing could have possibly prepared me for what I found in the woods. What could possibly prepare a person for finding the upper half of their sister’s body curled on the forest floor, her stare still fixed accusingly on her murderer, holding a thousand questions that were halted forever even while her cold lips were trapped trying to form the words.

I felt the weight of the blame on my shoulders. That stare was meant for me. Why did I let her go? Why didn’t I track her down sooner? Why wasn’t I here to keep my promise to keep her safe from everything? I fell against a tree and slid down, curling into a ball. I must have stayed there like that for nearly an hour. Part of me wanted to cry, but I couldn’t. There was nothing left. She was punished for something that I did. Crying would be accepting the hand of fate. I couldn’t get Laura back, but I could prove that it was wrong, that Laura had never deserved this before it finally moved to reclaim me.

I returned to the house, finding some old burlap in the shed. I returned to her and wrapped her in the rustic fabric. As I was about to lift her into my arms, I spotted an uncharacteristic whiteness amidst the fallen leaves. Someone left an inhaler in the woods. The scent on it was fresh, so I pocketed it. Maybe I’d get the chance to ask the owner a few questions if they came looking for it. Maybe the owner was the person that did this and I would be able to repay them in kind.

With the inhaler in my pocket, I carried Laura back to the house, where most of the night was spent in giving her a proper burial, using the rites I had learned so long ago to bury her as a true werewolf, as another good and innocent Hale taken before her time. I sealed the grave with a spiral, the promise of vengeance against my sister’s murderer.

I was the last Hale left now, the only one that could make sure the guilty paid for the crimes they committed against my family. I had nothing left now to cool the burning desire for revenge, to make me heed my father’s warnings of the damning nature of revenge. Love, happiness, hope, and all other graces were things of the past now. The anger, bloodlust, and thirst for revenge that made the wolf race through my veins were the only motivation left to drive my actions. I was alone, and if the stories were true, if my revenge would claim my own life as well as the lives of my enemies, then there was no consequence. It seemed only a reward now, the possibility of seeing them all again.

When that was done, I collapsed again, my fatigue this time driven by hours spent digging a hole and filling it back in, the burn of the wolfsbane on my hands, and most of all the utter emptiness that filled my very being.

That’s all that I was left with now that I was awake again. The anger was quelled temporarily. I struggled to pull the energy needed to move out of the vacuum that I had become. And just like that it came rushing back to me. All the anger that I had ever experienced, every wrong that had ever been done to my family, everything that I thought I let go of, it all came rushing back to me with the force of an avalanche. The new rage that burned through me was enough to ignite the viscous sorrows that clung to my veins like a raging inferno reaching a canister of crude oil. It was unbearable at first, but as I adjusted to it, it started feeling good to have a purpose, any purpose, now that the realization that Laura was actually gone began to settle in.

I could hear them through the broken glass of my bedroom windows first. Their voices and casual footsteps carried through the forest easily enough. Apparently they thought that they were immune to other attentions while they were wandering around private property, a belief that might have been reasonable if they weren’t on my private property.

Sometimes it’s surprising to me just how unobservant humans can be. I didn’t even have to hide. I watched them as they moved towards the spot where my sister’s body had been abandoned to the elements. They could only have been three or four yards away from me by the time they stopped to look around. I took the inhaler from my pocket, holding it so tightly in my hand that I had to make myself relax so I wouldn’t burst the pressurized canister.

The owner of the inhaler met my glare, and I could feel his wolf feeling me out, sizing me up, and deciding if he would be able to successfully challenge me. Somehow, this boy had become one of us.

I was certain that Laura would not have given the bite to a kid. If she needed help, she would have sought out someone older, someone that could better weigh the options and make a decision, someone she could trust with the knowledge that she was a werewolf in case they refused her offer. My mind was reeling with possibilities, but I didn’t have the answers that I needed yet. With a human nearby, I couldn’t question him freely. It would have to wait until later when I could corner him alone and force him to see the dangers of the situation.

I threw the inhaler in his direction and left. My mind was reeling with the implications of a new beta. I didn’t even take notice of the other boy who stood at the beta’s side, gawking quietly. He was human, harmless, not worth the attention that needed to be directed towards the potential threat that existed in an unknown werewolf. It was only as I walked away that I heard the familiar voice that matched the scent I had pushed aside earlier.

“Dude, that was Derek Hale.” The voice told me everything. It was the same voice that I had encountered at the funeral as Genim; the very same voice that I would later learn to identify as Stiles while my home coughed up fire, smoke, and the bodies of my family and pack, albeit years older now.

Part of me, somewhere in the vacuum of my soul, wondered why he stared the way he had. Was he upset that I failed to recognize him like I had before? Would he tell his father that the remaining Hales were once again in Beacon Hills? Why did that concern me? I had done nothing wrong. Yet somehow, I knew that it was best that I keep my head down. A dead body freshly buried in my backyard wouldn’t look good, even if it was the body of my own dear sister.

Besides, there was more to do than to worry over people from the past that I knew had nothing to do with the mystery at hand. Stiles had nothing to do with the murders nor did he have a hand in the beta’s turning, of that I felt certain, and it was good to have at least moved one small step forward.

I returned to my home, spending hours on end planning my moves, making phone calls, trying to piece together as much information as I could. Of course, nothing I found was extraordinarily helpful. I had discovered that there were no known rogue lycanthropes in the territories surrounding Beacon Hills, but that didn’t come as much surprise. Rogues were uncommon, and this incident didn’t seem like a random territory dispute. This was pre-meditated. It made me wonder about the call my sister had received. Was that just a bait to get Laura back to the house? Had she realized the trap too late and tried to get away, her pursuers catching her in the woods, taking her down, cutting her in half, and separating the pieces to ensure that healing was impossible.

The fact that I did not inherit the pack was a concern offered more direction, but what could it mean? The new beta meant that there had to be another one of us in the area. He was bitten, not born with the gift. Given the conversation the boys were having in the woods before they finally noticed him, the bite came only recently, between the time when Laura disappeared and I arrived. Most likely, it was a beta that lured Laura into an easy kill to steal her position and powers as alpha. Could a wolf have paired with the Hunters? Perhaps a Hunter was turned accidently and they chose to use him as a weapon against us? Under the cloak of the Hunters, it was logical that they would be hidden from the eyes of the surrounding packs. For now, that would be the angle I would have to work. I would go see Uncle Peter and get answers about the news Laura had received if any existed as soon as I could while I kept an eye on the new beta to find my chance.

As the days passed, I found more and more information, but it was never enough and there were always too many roadblocks in the way. Scott and Stiles were idiots. Scott knew so little that he blamed me for everything and was still trying to exploit his new abilities and Stiles was just enabling him the entire way. Their idiocy was a big obstacle when it meant that they were stupid enough to risk exposure in addition to getting me thrown in jail.

“I’m sorry we had to do this, son.” The sheriff said as he released me from the cell and returned my belongings. “I don’t know what Stiles was thinking when he made that call. I just got a look at the body a little while ago. I knew as soon as I saw her that it was your sister. He’s going to get a stern talking to about this, but we do have to discuss a few things before I can let you go – just to clear things up a bit. Like why in the world you buried her instead of calling us to figure out what happened.”