Love to: JabbaWockyBaby, No pen names left, Yomi-Hime, Chelsea Jay, Chris Valentine, Panda24, SkittleBomb, PrincezzShell101, estrellaaah, Rayrawl, and BreanaRenee'3

BreanaRenee'3: You didn't log in so I couldn't reply to your review but thank you, glad you like the fic so far. Can you belive that I only started watching Teen Wolf around August or just before that? I'd heard of it but I don't have cable so I didn't bother watching and then (2) of my besties who are diehard Sterek shippers just dragged me in. I never looked back :D My X-men fanfics...oh those poor babies. I am still a Ryro 5eva fangirl, just I haven't updated because I kind of lost touch with my writing as everyone on here knows. And i only came up with this because TW is that powerful. I haven't abandoned them, just I will need to prolly rewatch the movies, get inspired again and then figure out where the hell I was going with those fics because I am seriously lacking inspiration. My creative abilities are not what they used to be.

This was supposed to be posted on Friday but I honestly forget so here it is now :)


Chapter 12

Someone To Save You

In the face of uncertainty there is nothing wrong with hope – Dr. Carl Simonton

Allison looks over at Lydia. The concentration is evident in the way she's holding her body, staunch, rigid, with tense precision. Her lips are set in a thin, hard line but she's also pale and the edges of her eyes are crimped with a telling mix of fatigue and distress. If she wasn't so familiar with her friend's idiosyncrasies she would never know: Lydia can't sustain the spell. Even with Jackson's werewolf essence coursing the pathways. They have no way of knowing how much time he's bought for keeping the shields up. Or how fast he will burn out from the pull of the magic.

Erica's eyes meet hers and Allison can see that she's noticed the same thing. A watery smile flits across the blonde's face and then disappears. Boyd instinctively pulls her closer, nose nuzzling against her temple in comfort. Pack is everything and it will always be everything. It is what keeps you going when you can't anymore, it is what gives you the strength to overcome when hope seems like an illusion.


Deaton rushes outside just in time to see the pack of Berserkers take Derek down.

It's four against one. Alphas may be ridiculously powerful but a lone alpha against a group of Berserkers? Those are not odds in favour of the wolf. Deaton's knowledge of them is limited at best.

This will not end well.


The pack screams out simultaneously as Derek's agony floods the bond like wildfire. It feels like their bones are burning up from the inside out. Erica screams like she did the night she first turned, like the night Derek broke her arms to force the Kanima venom out of her system. Because the pain is like that but magnified by a thousand. Boyd's screams blend right in with hers and he shifts against his will. It's fucking painful and unpleasant and he can't stop it from happening.

Jackson's screaming too, clutching at his head and then his legs. Through the pain hazing his conscious, Boyd sees him collapse behind Lydia. Her concentration breaks because she hasn't heard screams like that since his post-Kanima nightmares. The shield flickers visibly when she lets go of Vanessa to grab on to Jackson as he falls backwards on the ground like something just slammed straight into him. His eyes keep flashing from human green to beta blue as his body shifts and then de-shifts and then shifts again.

Allison's in the background calling Scott's name as he goes down too. Issac falls from his arms. His body is being raked with this excruciating pain that he's never, ever felt before. It's all consuming and terrifying and renders him a puppet controlled by some unseen force wracking his very being. A loud, mangled cry escapes him and his back arches off the ground with the intensity of the pain. It feels like his limbs are being twisted and wrenched away from him.

"Lydia what's happening to them? What's wrong Scott? Scott!" Allison cries, trying her best to keep her voice steady but that old panic that she thought she'd overcome since that night in the school swarms up unbidden and she can't stop it.

Lydia doesn't know what to do.

"Jackson! Jackson!" she says frantically but he doesn't hear or answer.

He continues screaming, they're all screaming and the sound scares the fuck out of her and she's not the only one. She can hear the people around them starting to panic again.

"What's going on?"

"What's that screaming?"

"Who's screaming like that?"

"Oh my god what's wrong with that guy's face?"

They're starting to notice the wolves shifting. Knowing magic's being used is one thing for them to accept, knowing that weres are in the equation is quite another. She could cast a glamour, basic magic after all, one less reveal to worry about right now. But it's five of them and she's already stretched thin enough as it is. It's too much all at once. She can feel her carefully controlled mask slipping.

"Lydia!" Vanessa calls, "I need you!" just as another attack hits the shields.

It ripples audibly this time and a collective scream goes up but the barrier holds. Vanessa pushes as hard as she can and feels the shield just barely repel the attack. The monster roars venomously and attacks again. The shield trembles worse than before.

"Lydia!" she screams, but Lydia can't hear anything beyond Jackson's screams. Nothing she tries is working. His pain isn't stopping, it isn't lessening, it just is.

Scott's no better, his groans cut through Allison like knives because she's helpless again. She can't shoot the creature, she can't stop his pain, she can't do anything. His t-shirt is soaked with blood and sweat but the tears, those are hers.


Derek wonders if this is what dying will always feel like: excruciating pain. All his run-ins with death have been the same. He's fighting, with everything he has, which isn't much. The fight at the school bashed him up pretty good, not to mention the magic fused in the attacks, dark magic, that sapped his energy twice as fast.

The Berserkers are relentless in their onslaught. He's bleeding profusely (again), his healing has slowed significantly, and it feels like he's got huge mouth-shaped holes all over his body. Still he slashes at anything he can, tears and shreds with his teeth and claws. The air is filled with a twisted symphony of their growls and roars and snarls as they fight, and then whines and howls when fangs connect with flesh, when that flesh is torn. Derek can feel himself tiring.

Just how powerful are these things if they can wear down a pureblood alpha with such ease and efficiency and still be at full capacity?

In a move that's too swift for him to evade, one lunges for his neck while he's grappling with the other two. They've tag-teamed him, darting in and out, like cat and mouse but more deadly. Its fangs sink into him with fatal intent and that, that wrenches out a blood-stopping cry he's never made before.


Issac comes to with a jolt and a crippling pain spreading through his body. Derek's howls are overwhelming and echoing in his brain. It's like being born deaf and then suddenly having your hearing thrust upon you just like that. He gasps loudly and clutches his head.

"I-ssac..." Scott grounds out between screams, writhing like an asphyxiating fish as the blue-eyed beta's torment floods their bond.

His claws rake the asphalt beneath them leaving deep furrows as the pack's bond is infiltrated again. It's different though, burning, like the bond is being eaten away, wavering, like it's being torn apart. Realisation slams into him at the same moment that it does Issac and their eyes meet in one brief moment of clarity:

"Derek-Derek's dying..."

Their alpha is dying.


Vanessa's reserves are depleting. She's no witch, just a magic user. There's a difference between the two hence the reason why she's almost at the end of her rope. Then she hears Lydia's tiny gasp of 'No!' and Scott's verbal confirmation of their worst fears and knows in that moment that they've lost. Derek is dying, which means Deaton won't come, and with no one to save them the wolves will die when their Alpha does. The venom from the Berserkers will poison the pack bond and kill them all. The shields will be broken soon and then...then...they will all die. The Order will never get the warning in time. The darkness will not be stopped.

And it's all her fault.

Just as Stiles death rests solely on her shoulders because she didn't protect him enough, because she didn't save him.


Deaton sends out the warning to the nearest Messenger and prays that it reaches the Council in time. If they send the Order there may yet be a chance but until then he has to try. He made a promise to Miriam Hale and he intends to do everything in his power to keep that promise until he's no longer breathing.

The last Hale Alpha will not be allowed to die today.

"INVICTUS CORPUS TOTALEM!" he bellows rushing towards the horde of dark hounds tearing Derek apart.


Lydia's crying openly now. She's going to lose Jackson again, for good this time, and there's absolutely nothing she can do about it. All that knowledge and she's useless. She tries to focus, to reign herself back in check, but it's difficult because now that their last hope is gone its becoming harder and harder to think straight. She'll be dead soon and though she's faced death numerous times before, it's different this time around. This time there's no one left to do anything to stop it. There will be no one left to mourn.

There will be no one left.


Vanessa is at her end. Allison's next to them giving what she can to help maintain the shield just a little longer but it's not much as she's fully human and has no magic in her. Even with Lydia back next to her the spell is already weakening, they're both drained. Her palm tightens over Lydia's and their eyes meet in silent communication. The girl nods, she already knew.

The wolves have huddled together trying to heal each other simultaneously. It's a slow and seemingly futile process because the venom's already set in through the bond.

The little indicating flare of heat blooms at the back of her neck. Vanessa raises her head and watches the now massive cloud of swirling black dust crash down on the pale gold barrier. The force behind it has increased tenfold as if the creature knows they've reached their limit. The first crack is loud, like an electrical hissing, earning alarmed shouts and cries from the humans. The cloud comes down again with a deafening boom like explosives being set off. More cracks appear, specks of black dust filter in, landing on some of the police cruisers. It dissolves them like acid. People start panicking. It comes down again, the noise like a refinery imploding, their ears ringing instantly. The cracks get larger and larger and more visible, black starting to come in like a light drizzle. People start beating against the shield and yelling to be let out.

"You're going to kill us!"

"Let us out!"

"We're gonna die!"

"Let us out please!"

The pounding from within increases in tandem with that from without. The three women at the front are unmoving, eyes closed in concentration as their entwined hands grip each other tighter, pushing everything they have into the quickly crumbling shield. The terrified cries grow louder.

Vanessa chants, channelling through Lydia and Allison, but she doesn't speak the words out loud. Not this time. She will not let this all be for nothing. If this is to be her last stand then she will make it count.

Vita immedia trans

Mortalis vita

Finitis trans vita

Incorpis vida infinis

Her eyes flare red, like a blazing fire, and the shield flashes dark purple, almost black, with tinges of red streaking through as the cloud descends upon them like a blizzard and crashes into the barrier with a sound like roiling thunder.


"Death is unique to every being. As is magic. Your power will never be like mine as mine will never be like yours. Similarly, upon death our bodies react differently based on our magic. I could still channel through you because your power might still reside within your body depending on the level of your magic. Those born into magic have this luxury. Some of us aren't so fortunate."

"So what does that mean for me?"

"It could mean either of those outcomes. Your magic is powerful and untapped so you could very well be formidable even in death."

"But how can I use my magic if I'm dead? I mean I'd be dead. Can't exactly do anything then."

"There are ways you can send some of your power into reserve and then access it when in need or when dying. The spells are complicated but I can teach you to do it."

"Well I'd rather not wait till I'm dead or dying to be able to protect the people I love you know."

"That's why you cast protection charms Stiles. You already know the basics. The more advanced ones are layered and require the use of fifth and sixth level runes."

"Yeah yeah I know, because the more power you store the more powerful the rune and the stronger the effects of the spell."

She smiles fondly at him.

"Wait so that means I finally get my tattoos? Awesome! I'm gonna look all kinds of badass and shit. Can we do that now? Oh my god wait, is it gonna hurt? Because thinking about it, that's a lot of runes and there's only so much of me to put them on..."

"They're invisible and only appear when needed or when in actual use. And also they're magical so you don't necessarily have to use ink. Less painful that way don't you think?"


The Berserkers are flung viciously backwards by some invisible force like something grabbed them by the neck and yanked mercilessly, bodies trembling from the force attacking them. They slam into cars and buildings with startled whines and loud crashes like buildings collapsing, which is actually very accurate because the impacts of their bodies create holes in concrete walls and crumple hoods of cars like paper.

Derek has a few seconds of reprieve. That's not even enough time to think about healing. His arms are shredded, long gashes mar his chest and back, rivulets of blood are pouring down his neck. He's breathing heavily and it feels like he might shift back to beta form any minute. Massive bites dot his legs and haunches. Not much is processing in the Alpha's head beyond 'don't die' and 'kill them' but the two don't quite go together since he's the one dying.

Then Deaton's next to him, murmuring words he doesn't recognise, hands glowing like lanterns. The growls are rising steadily as the Berserkers approach again, wary of the intruder in their midst. Their eyes gleam a sick yellowish color and fangs are bared dripping with black venom as they leap simultaneously towards the injured wolf and the vet. Deaton thrusts his palms out towards them and they're caught mid-leap, suspended in the air. He curls his fingers inwards like he's making a fist and they start flailing wildly and whining, trying to escape whatever he's doing to them. Their necks and bodies begin constricting as the human squeezes with his magic.

The largest of the pack snarls even as he's screaming and his pupils dilate, irises turning black. His entire body shudders, a visible ripple running through it...like its about to...shift? Deaton clenches his hands tighter and begins muttering another incantation.

"Sordre cainus epsun maat!"

And his throws his hands out towards them. Howls fill the air as one of the monstrous hounds bursts apart in a flash of black. The shifting one convulses with fury, eyes wild with rage, and begins changing form. Derek's eyes widen in horror at the transformation taking place. There's still three of them left.

He gets out a mangled Deaton which is a feat in of itself as his maw is bleeding profusely and his jaw is possibly broken. The vet turns to him briefly. The communication is swift.

Look out!

The pack leader breaks Deaton's bind. It's countered his magic with its own. A distorted rumbling filters from its chest as it advances slowly, tail swishing like a pendulum behind it, spiked tip dragging on the asphalt beneath its paws that are now the size of car windows. It looms over them like a dark tower of sharp, glittering teeth and claws and spikes.

Deaton's magic won't work on it in this form.


The cloud impacts the dome with a blinding white light unlike the previous attacks that forces them all to shield their eyes. Even the wolves can't take the brilliance of the glare and have to cover their eyes. Allison pulls Lydia down to her and their heads lean together away from the light. It's getting hotter. They can't tell if the shield is broken, or if they're all dead and this is the white light before you reach the other side. They can't see anything.

Vanessa's thrown back by the force of the collision and lands with a painful thud on the ground. She hears a crack and wonders what she's broken this time. She still can't see anything, can't hear anything either. All she feels is a warmth, a heat all around her. She doesn't know what to make of it. She tries calling out to Lydia but her voice won't work, her fingers aren't working either, neither are her legs.

This is not good.


John's covered by one of his deputies when the cloud hits. They crash to the ground and it reverberates throughout his body. Then all he feels is a heat, not like a burning, but more like the warmth you'd feel from a fireplace on a cold night. It doesn't feel like he's dying, it feels...it feels...comforting, familiar almost.

He tries to look up or around but there's this white light flooding everywhere and shapes and forms are blotted out until nothing is visible anymore. He almost thinks he's gone blind but his vision's bombarded by blue and purple floating lights so no he's not blind.

Good. Very good.

But he can't hear anything or anyone and that is bad. So he tries moving. His deputy strangely enough is no longer on top of him, but he doesn't seem to know where he is. He can't feel anything around him. That is bad because they were crouched behind one of the cruisers only moments before. What if the dust dissolved the car and killed his deputy? But then why is he still alive?

The Stilinski blinks once, twice, tries to make his sight work. The blue and purple lights are still there, still floating. What the-

There's a buzzing in the air, a low hum like the thrumming of electricity. Static pricks at his skin and his hairs stand on end from the touch. John rubs his eyes and blinks again. He can make out the shape of the underside of someone's shoe a few inches away from his where his hands are splayed. He semi-shuffles on his stomach and manages to rotate himself a little. His line of sight falls on a pair of scuffed sneakers. That can't be right.

Fuck it feels like he's paralyzed. If this is what being old feels like he's in no hurry to get there any time soon. But his limbs are cooperating more than they were just now so there's that. He pushes and pushes until he's sort of upright against the headlights of the same cruiser. The light's dimmed just barely but he can make out the outline of someone standing up ahead. The sneakers are attached to them.

The low sound of voices starts filtering through the white haze. People are coming too around him though he can't distinguish any of them.


Lydia feels the warmth around them. She can't see shit and she can't feel Ms. Morell. She can smell Allison's shampoo so she knows she's still with her but where is Vanessa?

"Jack-jackson..." she slurs, lips sluggish, "Ja-sn..."

Something's settled over them like a mist, or a fog, since she can't make heads or tails of anything around here. She doesn't even know if they're still at the school or if they've been transported to another dimension.

Then warmth surges around her, a strange comforting heat that reminds her of nights drinking hot chocolate with her mother, curled up under blankets before the fireplace. She blinks rapidly, one does not do well to remain disoriented for so long.

"Lydia?" someone calls, it sounds like Allison.

Someone else is speaking too, behind her but she can't make out the sound. This is so infuriating! All she wants is to know whether she's dead or not. Or at least to be able to see. That would be pretty fucking useful right now. And as if on cue the white begins fading. There's a buzzing in the air, it pricks at her skin. Then she's seeing blue and purple dots floating in her vision.


Scott's the first to snap to, eyes taking in everything he can. Issac is plastered against his side, eyelids flicking rapidly as he's coming into consciousness. The rest of the pack is stirring slowly. He can smell Allison and Lydia just in front of them and his shoulders sag with relief. Issac's low moan snags his attention.

Hazy blue eyes gaze groggily at him and he reaches out a hand to brush the back of it against Issac's cheek. Issac's fingers curl into the fabric of his t-shirt in reassurance. Then he sniffs and a curious look crosses his face. Scott's expression mirrors his own and he sniffs the air.


Vanessa can't move. Well only just barely. She's weak and bleeding somewhere, if the wet stickiness she's feeling is any indicator. The hum in the air floats over her skin, caressing lightly, reminding her of similar touches not too long ago. Then it's gone and a soothing warmth folds over her.

She senses it before she hears the pack's collective gasps and turns her head in his direction.

Stiles.