Chapter Text
Derek Hale had seen the worst of life in his 27 years of living. He had seen the worst in people. He had made the worst decisions about women. He had destroyed his own pack. Derek had loved once and it had led to misery. Derek had made decisions that had resulted in the death of his entire family, were and human. Sometimes, nightmares of flames haunted Derek’s dreams. These nightmares used to be all the young man ever dreamt of.
When Derek met Aine, he was sure that he would never love again. But Aine was beautiful and strong and Derek craved Pack so much. He let himself be swept away in the feeling of being surrounded by family again. This little human woman gave Derek exactly what he had craved for in the form of three gorgeous dog pups and one stunning bitch pup. Derek could almost pretend he was in love with Aine, even when he never told her what he was.
So, with four amazing bundles of joy, the family packed up and left New York. With their four small babies, ranging in age from new born to three years old, Derek and Aine started anew in Beacon Hills, California. Derek rebuilt his old family mansion, including a whole wing for just a nursery and a master bedroom for himself and Aine. To supplement her lack of knowledge concerning werewolves, he continually fed her lies, never explaining why the house was burnt, or why every full moon he treated her to a spa night at some fancy hotel.
They lived peacefully in Derek’s hometown until one day, when their youngest children, Erica and Isaac, were two. That was when Derek began noticing all the deaths in the once peaceful town. Concerned for his small family and his unknowing wife, Derek called his sister. When Laura arrives, that I when things begin to get even worse.
After she moved back into town all hell broke loose. Within weeks, Laura was dead. Derek’s uncle was responsible. After several years of peace enjoyed by Derek, it seemed everything he had worked so hard for was coming to an end. The two oldest cubs, Jackson and Scott, were growing restless. Their mother began to take notice of the increasingly aggressive fight the toddlers were getting in. They ached to meet their Alpha- So Derek made a decision. He would kill his uncle.
The woods were cool and smelled of decomposing pine needles. It was half past midnight. Aine was at home, asleep, with all four pups in their own beds. Derek was scouring the woods for the scent of his uncle. He finally caught onto a coppery, intense scent. The scent was thin and uneven. Derek could hardly smell the blood of whoever had been Peter’s latest victim. The odor didn’t follow a distinct pattern causing Derek to work hard, but he came to the conclusion that his uncle had traveled north with the body. Into town.
Derek allowed his nose to lead him to the edge of town. Hidden by just a few trees, Derek transformed back into his most human self, and walked out into the center of town. The darkness hid most of the alleyways between buildings, but the store fronts were still mostly visible. Derek glanced around, trying to find a dark shadow or anything that would identify his uncle to him. Suddenly, a shadow crossed the street in front of him. And so began the chase.
Stiles tossed and turned in his sleep. Sometimes, on certain nights, his stomach wouldn’t let him sleep. Ever since Stiles was 14, he had felt a constant tug at the base of his spine. The tug kept him on constant alert. Psychiatrists called it paranoia. Stiles knew it was more. Something kept him awake on nights when the tug was especially bad. And if he managed to fall asleep? Nightmares haunted him, had him tossing and turning and fighting off the urge to just… To get up and run. Usually, the feeling occurred right around the full moon. But tonight was most certainly not a full moon. The feeling grew worse and worse. Stiles body ached for a run. His eyes wouldn’t stay closed. His palms sweated. So Stiles did what anyone would do. He got up, got dressed, and ran.
Stiles finished lacing his shoes by his front door, and stood straight. He had no plan as to where he was going, but he had a strong feeling that his body would lead him to where he needed to be. Opening the front door, Stiles heard a loud noise. The sound was long and sweet, and it sounded better than any music he had ever heard. It seemed as if it came from a wolf. Stiles craved the sound suddenly and absolutely. Stiles opened his mouth, and without intending to, let out a low, sad whine. Shocked by the noise coming out of his own mouth, Stiles almost turned around and went back to his house. That was when Stiles realized he was around the corner- already past the point where he could easily see his home. A swell of panic rose to his throat. He swallowed it down and continued running.
The streets of Beacon Hills were calm and quiet. The air was filled with a palpable tension, which had Stiles reeling. His mind searched subconsciously for something, and his body just followed the pull. The air seemed weighed down by some nonexistent force. Stiles felt like he could barely breath, but his feet kept moving- His body kept going. All of a sudden, a shadow of what appeared to be an animal swam by Stiles’ vision, blurred by the street lights. The shape was gigantic. A flash of light reached Stiles’ eyes, flashing off of what appeared to be long, white teeth. Stiles tried to halt himself, but his legs pounded harder. All sound ceased to exist. Stiles went after the creature with every ounce of energy he had. When he was about a dozen feet away, the animal turned and pounced, and Stiles ducked just in time.
The animal cleared over Stiles’ head, and Stiles turned. Behind him was a tall, muscled man. The man seemed as dark as the night around them. In the silence, Stiles could hear a low growl, and the gigantic wolf, for that’s what Stiles had decided it was, was running at the shadowed man. Stiles heart flew to his throat and he couldn’t move fast enough. He picked up the nearest rock, lying beside him on the sidewalk, and heaved it at the wolf. The wolf didn’t see it coming and it collided with the back of its left shoulder. The tall man released an animalistic growled and lunged, meeting the wolf half way. Both entities dropped to the ground, and with a snarl and a spray of something that smelled metallic (Blood, Stiles’ brain supplied,) the head of the wolf was torn off and tossed to the side. The man looked up and directly at Stiles, with red eyes glowing. The visual of the man’s eyes glowing crimson was the last thing Stiles remembers before he wakes up in his queen sized bed the next morning. With a terrible headache. Go figure.