Chapter Text
It had all happened very suddenly.
Even though they all claimed to be equal, all Alphas in their own right, it quickly became clear that Deucalion was their leader. The other four - the muscled twins Ethan and Aiden, the beautiful brunette Kali, and the solid Ennis - stood slightly behind him, their arms folded, their feet seemingly glued in place as he paced back and forth in front of them. Well, paced may be the wrong word; strut may better fit his actions here. His eyes must have been blue when he was born, but they were light magenta now, just tinted blue underneath the boiling red. They did not move, for he was blind; they did not see.
Derek stood perfectly still, his back eerily straight as he stood in front of his pack, clearly uneasy with the obvious scanning. Peter stood on the porch of their home, leaning against the post, observing the scene before him with barely-concealed amusement. Deucalion would pause now and then and give a comment; to Lydia, he stated she smelled “absolutely lovely,” Erica was “rich,” Peter was “a little off, but not too bad,” Boyd was “heavy, like Ennis,” Scott was “like a new car, still,” Isaac was “nearly a puppy, my God,” and Derek was “the leader, very strong and very fresh.” Scott was positioned slightly behind him, looking for all intents and purposes as though he was about to spring forward at any moment. Lydia was behind him, standing at Isaac’s side, their hands intertwined to keep them both in place. Erica and Boyd were on Isaac’s other side, arms folded in a mimicry of the Alpha Pack’s. Stiles had been forced behind Scott, along with Allison, hidden. Deucalion relied on his sense of scent, but he figured that the two humans would step forward when necessary. He ignored them for now. However, both Allison and Stiles were just about ready to step out from behind Scott, sick of being treated like weaklings, like they were less than just because they were human.
In fact, Stiles decided to remedy that right now. He removed Allison’s hand from his wrist gently and moved around Scott, stepping forward. He froze when Deucalion did; the Alpha’s head snapped up, and he paused mid-step. His head turned around strangely slowly; Derek glared darkly at Stiles before returning his worried attention to Deucalion.
Deucalion approached Stiles then, his head cocked slightly, his blind eyes brilliantly blood red and unseeing. He halted a breath away from Stiles, and Stiles remained unmoving and silent, like a deer caught in headlights, as the Alpha leaned in, his head tilting to the side. He was hardly a millimeter from Stiles’ neck when he inhaled.
“And which one are you?” Deucalion asked softly, his words causing breath to ghost over Stiles’ neck. He shivered. “You smell delicious.”
Stiles only caught the slide of fangs a second too late; by then, there was already a thin trail of blood on his neck, and Deucalion was on the ground, pinned down by his wrists by Derek. Scott was hovering immediately, his hand tight around Deucalion’s throat. Peter already had Stiles shoved behind him, dropping low into a defensive stance in front of the human. The other wolves in Derek’s pack quickly fell into formation; the wolves in Deucalion’s Alpha Pack moved just as swiftly, shifting into an offensive shape.
“I did not mean to harm him,” Deucalion stated, his voice full of a soft, faux-apologetic tone. Scott’s tone tightened at the same time Derek’s did. Peter turned around to focus his attention on Stiles. He tsked.
“Too bad Derek waited, because I’m not so sure this is going to-”
“What do you mean?” Derek demanded of Peter, nearly shoving him aside. Isaac took Derek’s place, grabbing Deucalion’s wrists and restraining him. The other Alphas in his pack hung back slightly, though their eyes were rubies, their claws were sharp, and their fangs were extended. Allison and Lydia’s faces immediately shifted into Stiles’ vision as Peter forced him down on his back in the grass.
“I mean that this is an Alpha’s bite, Derek. It’s going to be more sensitive, no matter how slight it is,” Peter explained impatiently, as though he were speaking to a particularly impossible toddler.
“What can we do?” Derek asked, his grip on Stiles’ wrist just the wrong side of too tight. Stiles pulled against him until Derek realized and released him.
“I’m right here, alright? I’m not leaving you guys for them,” Stiles stated firmly. Peter raised an eyebrow at him.
“If he’s your Alpha, it’s not your choice.” Peter bent down close to Stiles’ neck, forcing him back into a horizontal position as he inhaled. “It’s going to start, Derek. We’ve only got one option-”
“I won’t-”
“You have to,” Peter nearly growled. Stiles fought the urge to roll his eyes and instead just clenched his teeth.
“Can someone please explain?” Stiles demanded. Peter and Derek shared a long look before Peter sighed and returned his attention to Stiles.
“Derek’s going to be your new Alpha now,” Peter said cryptically. Stiles barely had enough time to blink before Derek dropped his head down and sank his teeth into the spot on Stiles’ neck right above the nick Deucalion gave him. Stiles’ back arched, and he made a low sound that was almost a shout, if it had not been so weak. He blinked, then shut his eyes. Deucalion laughed.
“Now he smells just like Derek. Very fresh.” Deucalion inhaled sharply. Scott growled, and Deucalion just smiled. “Still very delicious.”
Derek raised his head and snarled.