TIED SOULS
chapter eight ; deadly ties
[ season three - episode fourteen ]
"𝐆𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐘? 𝐆𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐖𝐒𝐎𝐍?" the bartender gasped, pulling himself up off of the bar to get a better look at the blonde woman walking into his bar. As he shouted, heads turned, and cheers began to spread as she playfully bowed, happy to return to the second closest thing that she had ever had to a home. She spent almost every night here, working behind the bar as an excuse not to be in the so-called home she lived in with the Alpha pack. San Diego was the second best she had to Beacon Hills, although she had spent more time in Seattle, there was something about it here that felt more like she belonged. Of course, that was why it was the place she knew she had to come to when she left Beacon Hills yet again. It seemed like she was on a never-ending cycle.
What felt like an entire lifetime ago, when she was just seventeen, she worked behind the bar, it was obvious she was underage. The owner knew that, the other bartenders knew that, and even the regulars who would buy her a drink knew it. But they all accepted her anyway. They loved to see the pretty young girl behind the bar, the bright smile she had and the mystery she brought to their city. She never told a soul where she had come from, at least none of them, whenever they asked, her lips were sealed, she avoided the topic like it was forbidden. It was the last thing that she had wanted to talk about, the only reason she wanted the job was to find a distraction from the place she had left, and to find sanctuary in the bottom of a glass.
The blonde placed herself at the bar where she was handed her usual drink, only this time, she was of legal drinking age, it was strange to think that of herself. How she was no longer a baby or some lost little girl that needed taking care of. She was her own woman now. From now on she'd fend for herself, making her own way in the world.
What brings you back here? he asked, leaning on the bar, pouring her a strong glass of tequila, a small lime wedge on the side, just how she used to make her own. The last they had heard from her, she was packing up for Seattle, onto bigger and better things, at least a seventeen-year-old Gabby had been convinced of such.
Looking for an old friend, she told him, her finger tracing the edge of the glass. It was taking a little longer than she had anticipated, she admitted, throwing back the drink, allowing the taste to burn her throat. I'm guessing those bigger and better things didn't go your way? She scoffed, the understatement of the decade. He poured her another drink, this time, it stayed in the glass for all of a minute longer as she swirled it around. "I don't suppose you've seen her lately, huh?" Gabby asked, he knew who she meant, in all the time she had worked here, he had only heard her talk of one friend, he had only ever seen her with one friend.
The barman hummed in disagreement, telling her that she had followed suit in packing up and leaving to find bigger and better things in this world than a dinghy old bar where the two of them met, it was this old bar that Gabriella had met one of her bestest friends, another person that she'd had to leave behind because of the Alpha pack, she had managed to make amends in Beacon Hills, now it was time to make amends in other areas of her life. Like this one. The woman threw her drink back again, slamming it down on the bar, wondering where she had to look to find her old friend, what she might have to do to get those answers, and to make up for abandoning the best friend she could have ever had, or asked for.
For hours, the blonde sat around the bar, talking to all of the old-timers who once helped her as a teenager trying to figure out her way in life, giving her tips on how to survive at her age, how to pour the perfect beer and how to get the hell away from home as soon as she could, of course, they had no idea that here was the place she'd come to get away from home. She asked each of them whether they'd seen or heard anything of her friend, if they might know where to find her, all of them were outdated sources, if they had heard anything, it was years ago, too long to help her figure out now where she could be.
Even her sources were more recent than that. The last time she'd heard about her, she was close to her, perhaps a little too close. The details had been limited, but it was enough to stir up some curiosity within the girl, regret of past happenings too.
When the night was over and the bar was closing, the blonde found herself walking out into a dark alley, her arms dug into the pockets of her leather jacket as she hummed a tune to herself, prepared to turn in for the night, back on the road in the morning, giving up on her adventure to head back to Beacon Hills. It appeared that it was the only place that had something left for her.
As she walked through the narrow alley, the blonde turned, looking behind her with narrowed eyes, swearing that she'd heard something other than the clicking of her heeled boots. The alley was clear, as dark as ever, nothing but rows of garbage cans, possibly a few rats, and the scent of booze. The usual for this place. The blonde kept on walking with a slightly faster pace, she was well aware of the people who hung around this time of a night, she didn't want to risk anything. Her clicking heels sounded heavier and heavier, still certain of someone watching her, picking up the pace more and more until she was practically jogging in some very inappropriate shoes.
Just as a hand reached out for her, she spun around, grabbing it, holding them still as her elbow collided with their gut, winding them before kicking them in the shin, knocking them to the floor where she gripped them by the neck, only then was she able to see the person who tried pulling a fast one on her in the middle of a dark alley.
"Braeden?" Gabriella mumbled as she released the woman's scarred neck, her brows raised.
"Hi, Dawson." The mercenary smiled at her old friend. "Glad to see you still see some moves, I'd thought you'd gone soft on me."
Gabriella held out a hand for the woman, helping her back to her feet, as though someone like a mercenary would need help from her. Most things she knew had been taught to her by Braeden. She brushed herself off while her old friend got a good look at her, seeing how she'd changed in the past few years. Many things had changed, the two of them were grown up now, adults, they had lived extraordinary lives, in ways only they knew how. They had seen more supernaturals in these past few years than the cinema. They were far from two underage bartenders finding ways to make a living, it seemed that same job had taken them down very different paths. Braeden, a mercenary, formerly a US marshall had seen the entire world hunting down both the natural and supernatural for money, always seeming to find a connection to her old friend wherever her jobs took her. And Gabriella had been nothing more than an errand runner for an Alpha in that time, a disappointment to the big dreams she'd once shared over an illegal drink or two.
"Got to admit, Brae, I was a little disappointed to hear that you were in Beacon Hills and didn't try and find me." Gabriella spoke as she leaned against the wall with folded arms, the mercenary mimicking her movement as she stood on the opposite side of the alley.
"Well, your crowd wasn't really my kind of people." Braeden told her as she looked Gabriella up and down, seeing how much she had changed too. It was a fair conclusion, one that the woman tried to think of an argument too, but she couldn't, perhaps it was best that Braeden stayed out of the way in Beacon Hills, who knew what Deucalion would have done to someone of her title if they came face to face. "I see you finally freed yourself from those shackles. It's about time you stood up on the two feet God gave you." She deadpanned, a smile washing over Gabby's face, it was awfully similar to something someone else had said to her. "What encouraged that? Or who, shall I say?"
"A friend."
"No, no, no. I'm a friend." Braeden corrected her. "That goofy smile across your face is reserved for someone who is a lot more than friend. It might have been a long time, Gab, but I know you. And I know what you've been up to lately. That's why I'm here." She insisted as Gabby raised her brow, confused as to what she meant. "I've been sent on a rescue mission. You coming?"
Sparks of electricity flew across the room, thousands of volts rushing through their bodies, their hands tied above their heads, chained to a metal fence. The two of them were defenseless. They had spent days on end, they had been like this, unable to put up a fight, unsure how they would get out other besides the use of charisma, which wasn't always their strong suit. And sometimes it happened to be all they needed, sometimes, they excelled, they could make people swoon in a sentence or two, everything they wanted or needed handed to them. But in front of them was a tough crowd. A group of hunters. Hunters never seemed to fall for those tricks. Especially not a group of male hunters. Right now, they couldn't fight their way out of a paper bag.
They were unprepared for this. It wasn't something they had considered when they left Beacon Hills a few weeks ago. Flat tires, running out of clothes or fuel and Cora's pack not being where she'd left them were the possibilities they prepared themselves for. Not being kidnapped by the group of Hispanic well-known as the Calaveras, some of the most lethal hunters known. Perhaps they should have been flattered that they were so well-known that hunters purposely sought the two of them out, or perhaps next time, at least one of them should have considered that anyone could be their enemy. Just because they were free of Jennifer, it didn't mean they were free of all enemies, they knew that now, only a little too late.
Though one thing they were grateful for, was that they had been caught after leaving Cora. If any positives could be soon through an otherwise negative situation, it was that. She was safe with a pack who'd cared for her for many years, people who could be trusted. And if in doubt, she knew who to call if she needed help. And it wasn't them.
Somewhere around the globe, Gabby was waiting at Cora's beck and call, ready to rush to where she was needed by the teenage girl. As she had told her when they had parted ways, she was just a phone call away, she would drop anything and everything, life or death. She offered Derek and Peter the same, though she didn't expect either of them would ever need it. They were stronger, and occasionally smarter than her, she wasn't sure that either of them would ever need any help from her. And until now, they didn't think they would need it either.
"You see this equipment?" The hunter asked, his back turned to the two wolves as he brushed a finger across the machine controlling the voltage flowing through them. "Very old. The settings are not quite accurate anymore. So it's hard to tell just how far to turn the dial."
"I think it's a little high," Peter admitted through gritted teeth, his entire body shaking beneath a strong electrical current that somehow almost matched up to being burnt alive. So yeah, it felt a little high. His remark didn't settle well with the hunter, he turned up the dial that little further, a painful scream escaping the two Hale werewolves, paired with the sound of them trying to fight their way off of the metal fence sounded like a perfect harmony, a hunter's favorite tune. For the sound to come from someone belonging to werewolf royalty like the Hales, well, he would savor every long and excruciating part of it. "I've seen some crack their teeth. Others, sometimes they just shake even after their heart stops. Sometimes we don't even know they're dead." He said as the werewolves began reaching that point. "But nobody wants to play a guessing game. So why don't you tell us? Where is La Loba?"
"We don't know where La Loba is," Derek told the man.
"No?" The hunter asked. "Maybe you need a different method of persuasion? Maybe we cut one of you in half, the other talks?" He proposed.
"I would love to be there for volunteer, but we really don't know what you're talking about." The older Hale spoke up. They had lost count of how many times they had stated they didn't know of this La Loba, nor where she might be. Frankly, neither of them cared about La Loba either, all the two of them wanted was to be back in Beacon Hills, a surprise even to them. "And honestly, isn't bisecting people with a broad sword a little medieval?"
"Broad sword?" The hunter chuckled. "We're not savages." He turned to one of the other hunters as they pulled out a chainsaw, wiring it up while the entire room of hunters smiled, the Hales on the other hand, not so thrilled. In fact, Derek was quite ready to kill his uncle for them, his mouth always got them into trouble these days, and it seemed he would never learn. His mouth would be their ultimate downfall. That, or a woman named Gabby. "We all wonder how far your little healing trick goes. What do you think? Can you grow back an arm?" He asked as the hunter held up the chainsaw to Derek's arm, it was always the arm. It was always because of a hunter. "We're pretty sure you can't grow back your head."
A new voice entered the room, a feminine voice, commanding the room of hunters as she found herself walking into a dimly lit basement, an older woman stood tall in the middle of the room, if they had heard correctly, it was the women who acted as leaders. She spoke to her men in what the two assumed to be Spanish, neither fluent enough in the language to understand what she'd told them, but it was enough for the chainsaw-happy hunter to take a step back, the entire room allowing her to do what she did best. Lead.
"No hablo Espanol." Derek shook his head at the woman.
"Tu hablas muchos idiomas, Derek Hale." She disagreed, he knew how many languages, maybe he wasn't fluent in them, but he knew enough to get him along. Gabby had helped him learn lots of what he knew."You know exactly what I'm saying. And you know who we want." The huntress told them, stepping closer with her weapon in hand. "Where is the she-wolf?"
"We don't know any she-wolf." Derek reassured her.
"I know you won't talk, lobito." She said with confidence. "This one will talk. This one loves the sound of his own voice."
"You should hear me sing," Peter joked again, failing to learn from the last time he tried to crack a joke with a hunter. Only this time, it wasn't because he found humor in joking about hunters, it was because neither he nor his nephew knew who this she-wolf they talked about was. The two had their guesses, or at least, one guess. The only she-wolf they knew who might have a kind of connection to them. Cora. And neither were going to tell them where she was, the entire reason she was where she was was to keep her safe. If it was Cora they wanted, they would continue the act of ignorance, either until they were released, or killed.
"What could we do to persuade you?" The woman asked them, grazing a blade against the older wolf's face, with even an inch more pressure, it would leave a mark on that skin he was so proud to have after an unfortunate incident of being incinerated. The movement triggered an instinct, Peter's claws extending. "Where is the she-wolf?"
Derek looked at the wolf beside him, hoping that something as simple as her threat wouldn't be the thing to give up Cora, even he had to care about his niece enough to protect her location. He remained silent with a straight face, seemingly unafraid of the blade on his face, a cut to his face was minor compared to his past. He was burnt alive, twice. Coming back from the dead. Dealing with a creche of supernatural teenagers.
When the huntress failed to receive a satisfactory answer from the Hales, she raised her blade to the air, rather than aim for the face she had threatened, she swiped it across Peter's ring finger, a quick movement, faster than either a werewolf's reactions could prevent. He screamed in agony as the dismembered finger was held into the air, the woman admiring it with a wicked smile, she suggested that he think about his answer because she was only going to ask nine more times. A pained Peter was forced to watch as she tossed his finger to the floor, landing perfectly upright, prepared to taunt him until his other fingers joined it.
For hours the two werewolves remained constricted to the metal face, Peter's severed finger on the floor, a macabre candle of blood. For now, he remained with another nine fingers, yet to be asked that question, this time, he was unsure he was willing to sacrifice his finger for Cora, they hardly knew each other, they'd failed to make up for six unaccounted years. Perhaps she wasn't a major loss after all, unlike his finger. Derek remained willing to give up everything to keep her safe, even if the sight of Peter's dismembered finger did turn his stomach like nothing else ever had, a finger or ten was a minor sacrifice for the safety of his little sister. It was either keep all of his fingers and have Gabby kill him if she found out, or lose all of his fingers and hope that Cora found a way to alert the woman that she was in trouble before it was too late.
"I don't want to make it sound like we don't appreciate your hospitality but do you think you could possibly put that on ice?" Peter asked the nearest hunter who guarded them, one of the only remaining hunters in the room, the others had followed along with their leader, those who were less worthy of being in her presence were stuck in there's. "Maybe something for my hand? Extra-large Band-Aid? Perhaps some antibiotic ointment?" He asked, his requests denied with a moment of silence.
Footsteps sounded over the basement, the two werewolves looking up through the cracks of the wooden flooring with a sound of dread, wondering who was next to pay them a visit, what forms of torture they would endure this time around. An abrupt sound of smashing glass startled even the hunter who sprung up out of his seat, grabbing his gun as he prepared to fire. Whoever they had been trespassed by had beaten him to the punch, bullet shells rained over the floor upstairs as shots were fire continuously, making the werewolves more nervous than ever as they tried to shield themselves from both the bullets and the dust that fell through the floor.
Someone upstairs landed on the floor with a heavy thud, the three men in the basement silent as they tried to figure out what was going on through the cracks of the flooring, only able to see a shadow moving through the floor above, two figures with extremely heavy footsteps, a sound that seemed like something they should be fearful of as two defenseless wolves chained to the electrified metal fence.
As they grew closer, the Hales shared a worried look, the sound drawing closer. The basement's door was kicked down as a woman's hand reached out for the hunter's gone, snatching it, using the butt of it to pound him in the head, knocking him out in an instant, the man left sprawled on the outside of the door she'd just knocked down. Derek and Peter were left in awe, willingly they pressed themselves against the metal fence, willing to be shocked with a thousand volts if it had allowed them a little more distance from whoever this woman was, whoever was capable of this intrusion needed to be feared.
As the woman turned to them Derek recognized who she was. Not an enemy, but perhaps their savior. He knew her not by name, but by description. An attractive young woman with medium-toned brown skin, dark hair, and dark eyes, though he had never mentioned what seemed to be her most noticeable feature, the claw marks that scarred her neck, chest, and face. She'd saved Isaac. Braeden placed the gun down in the chair, taking a deep breath as she folded her arms, it was a sight for her to enjoy, two werewolves quaking in their boots in the basement of hunters. Humorous, really, considering all of the things she'd heard about these two.
"You're the one who saved Isaac," Derek said, a hint of a question in his words, hoping she was in fact the woman he thought she was.
"I'm the one who was hired to save Isaac." Braeden corrected him, an important difference.
The older Hale was surprised, questioning if someone had really hired her to get them out of this place, he couldn't possibly think who would be willing to save him. And the simple fact was that there wasn't anyone. Braeden gladly told him that she was hired to save Derek, not him who she didn't care for, she didn't care if he was left for dead with his rotting finger being his last sight, he wasn't part of her task, therefore, she wasn't interested. Saving him was above her pay grade. An offended look washed over Peter's face, unsure where he'd earned this reputation. Braeden took the keys to their handcuffs from the hunter's unconscious body, freeing Derek, the other wolf in a state of shock, flabbergasted that she was going to leave him here.
"Don't worry, I might not be interested in helping you but someone else might be."
"Who?" Derek questioned her, befuddled. Breathless, and with a gun bigger than her in hand the savior herself rushed into the room informing the mercenary that she didn't think they had long, she wasn't great at the whole cock-butting thing, she had only seen it for the first time just a few minutes ago when Braeden demonstrated it on the hunter standing guard at the front door. She had only seconds to learn it. "Gabby?" he said with wide eyes.
"Hi." The breathless girl mumbled as she swallowed a lump in her throat. "I just totally knocked out a hunter." She said with a nervous chuckle, dropping the gun in her hand, no longer wanting to take on that role, she had a mercenary and two werewolves now, there was no need for her to be holding a gun. What more protection could she need? Braeden tossed the small set of keys to the woman, allowing her to do the honor of freeing Peter Hale, because hell would she take that responsibility. Freeing someone like him? Over her dead body.
"Who did hire you?" Derek asked as he turned back to the mercenary, he knew it wasn't Gabby, she wouldn't have thought to hire a mercenary who she seemed to know well, if she'd known it was hunters who'd kidnapped him and Peter, she would have gone straight to people with that same field of profession. The Argents.
"Deucalion."
"Deucalion?" Peter repeated in shock. He pointed at the claw marks on her neck. "The guy who did that to you? That Deucalion?"
"Wait." Gabriella stopped them as she held up her hands, turning back to her friend who'd failed to mention that was how she earned her scares, scars that she thought were from some badass US marshall mission until now, when the thought of Braeden and Deucalion meeting had turned from a bad nightmare to an awful reality. "Deucalion did that? You didn't tell me?"
Braeden shrugged, girl's gotta eat, she stated plainly, the two werewolves still confused as they picked up their shirts from the floor, questioning how they seemed to know each other, clearly it wasn't a case of Braeden picking up someone who knew them well for some help, it was obvious the two of them had established a relationship, enough to trust each other, to be surprised that a secret had been kept from the other. Gabby informed him that Braeden was the friend she had left him to find in Mexico, it seemed that she had forgotten to mention who exactly Braeden was.
Before the conversation and questions could continue, Braeden suggested that they all leave as fast as possible, that she return them all to Beacon Hills where they belonged. As much as Derek wanted to do that, he wasn't leaving without it.
The four approached an abandoned mansion, it was clear that it was abandoned by the garden, an overgrown garden that someone who could afford such a large home should be able to tend to, and yet, it looked like it hadn't seen a lawn mower in centuries. Braeden looked at Gabby, the question of whether she knew what this place was across her face, but Gabby didn't know where they were either, this place wasn't somewhere she had been or even heard of before. Nor did the woman know what exactly it was that Derek couldn't leave without.
He chose not to tell them that they were following rumors, with someone skeptical like Gabby and a mercenary, he would have no chance of being able to see if those rumors were true, they would be too adamant on getting back to something real, a place like Beacon Hills, where none of them knew what was going on, a place they had been out of touch with for weeks. Perhaps a decision they would come to regret when they saw what happened in their absence. It had taken Peter's dismembered finger and thousands of volts inside of his body to make Derek adamant that he wouldn't be returning to Beacon Hills empty-handed, even if all that he'd been left with was the reassurance that what he heard was nothing more than a rumor.
After pushing through the tall grass and Derek breaking into the home without checking whether it might have already been unlocked, the four of them stood in the living room, dust sheets over almost every piece of furniture, preserving everything but a large chest that sat central to the old and luxurious room. So far, the rumors were proven true.
"What exactly is this chest?" Gabriella asked as they all stepped closer to it, failing to receive an answer from Derek who stepped closer than the others, reaching out a hand to open the chest, but before he could lay a finger on it he was repelled by the power protecting it. Rowen tree. Or as they better knew it, mountain ash wood. Derek and Peter turned to the only two who could put their hands on the chest, the two human women who looked at the men with raised brows, questioning whether they really wanted them to play a part in this.
"She's here to help you, not me." Braeden deadpanned. "I'm just here to make sure she gets to Beacon Hills in one piece."
Derek and Peter looked back at Gabby with the same raised brows, the same Hale look, waiting for her to open the chest for them, to be the one to help them out when they needed it. Again. A loud sigh escaped her as she stepped closer to the chest, kicking the lock, sending it soaring, the two werewolves and a mercenary left in awe of this person in front of them. A brand new Gabby. She opened the chest, relieving a dark abyss of mountain ash, she turned to the two wolves who peered into that dark abyss.
"Somebody really doesn't want our hands in there," Peter mumbled. "Gab, do the honors?"
Gabby rolled her eyes at them as she removed her jacket to reach into the chest of mountain ash that she couldn't determine the depth of. The last thing she needed was to find it in places that it shouldn't be like sand after a long day at the beach. She shoved the jacket into Derek's arms, her hand lingering over it, reluctant to delve in, unsure of what could be beneath the surface. What it might contain that Derek was so eager to get his hands on, and if it was so important, the things that might be hidden inside to protect it. The blonde shook off her nerves, reaching in as Peter, Derek, and Braeden watched with some fear of their own, wincing slightly as they prepared for a pained scream to escape her, just in case there really was something else inside.
The blonde reached in until she'd almost lost her arm, finding something right at the bottom of the chest, something round, wooden, a marking on top. With a furrowed brow she pulled out the cylinder container with a triskele carved into its lid, holding it out to the wolf who wanted to get it so badly. This was it. The rumor.
Once the Hales and Gabriella had returned to Beacon Hills, parting ways with the mercenary in charge of getting them back in one piece, the three gathered around the loft, prepared to give a complaining Peter his ring finger back. Derek sat in front of his uncle with the severed finger and a fishhook, proving just how unqualified he was to be sewing the finger back on, but with Peter's refusal to go to the hospital, they didn't have another choice. He thought that Gabby might have had a few tricks up her sleeve, it seemed she had learned a few things in combat during the time they'd all been apart, perhaps she knew how to perform medical procedures too. Unfortunately, that was a skill set she didn't have.
Peter winces in pain as Derek began sewing up his finger, asking through gritted teeth if either of them had anesthetic, and surprisingly, they did, but the werewolf in charge much preferred him in pain, making up for the pain he had caused many people in the past. Peter wasn't surprised to find out that Derek had anesthetic and was withholding it, but he had thought that Gabby might have fought his corner, that she would have a soft spot for him after all of the times he'd helped her out before. That was just another thing she didn't have.
"Since neither of you seems to be going anywhere anytime soon..." Gabriella spoke up, sitting on the couch where she could get a front-row seat. "Care to tell me what's with the box?" Peter also was curious to know what he had risked his life for, neither of them received an answer while the wolf concentrated on his sewing, completing the sewing of the wolf's finger back onto his hand.
The older Hale held it up, admiring the work, impressive for someone with only a lack of skills, a fishhook, and a stinking attitude. "I'm going to show you." Derek finally answered as he pulled it out in front of them, twisting off the cap, pouring five werewolf claws onto the table between the two of them. Gabby quickly jumped up to get a closer look, both her and Peter picking one up to see it in a whole new light. "After the fire, that's all that was left of her,"
"Talia," Gabriella mumbled, suddenly uncomfortable as she placed the claw back on the table, a sickness in her stomach.
"I can't decide if that's touching or morbid," Peter commented, lacking any sympathy for Derek or his sister. "I guess the real question is, what are you planning on doing with them?" He asked as he too placed a claw back onto the table.
"I have to ask her something," Derek told them. There were a few things he wanted to ask, a few of them more important than others, some riskier, but even in death he suspected that she knew things that he didn't, more than even people alive. It had always been the way, ever since he was a child he'd known people come to his mother, telling her things that were going on in the world, the supernatural business that needed to be known by one of the most powerful werewolves. He didn't elaborate on what it was he wanted to ask his mother, he didn't trust Peter enough to give him that information, and while he trusted Gabby, there were something things he would rather keep to himself. Especially when some questions involved her. "From what I've heard, this is the only way possible without sacrificing yourself to the Nemeton."
Peter looked at the triskele box, then back to the hand that was finally restored. Able to assume what his nephew was hinting at as he asked whether he was serious, and he was. It was the only reason he had sewed the man's fingers back on, and he had no problem in making that clear, it was Peter's only purpose in his life. To be used for his own good.
"You know, there's always an element of danger to rituals like this," Peter reminded him, talking to Gabby as well, it was clear she wasn't familiar with these things. "I'm not particularly fond of them." The woman's face washed over with an uneasy look, while Derek remained unbothered, dropping the claws back into the triskele box. "Unless they somehow benefited me..."
"Here we go," Gabby mumbled under her breath.
Derek knew that it was coming, he wasn't the only Hale looking out for himself, being the selfish person that Hales was known to be these days. Every situation ended up this way. Derek gave it the time of day, asking what it was that Peter wanted, what part of this provided him with some kind of benefit. It was simple, he wanted to keep his sister's claws. For sentimental value, Peter added when he noticed the uncomfortable look Gabby gave him, questioning if he was allowed a little bit of sentiment.
Neither justified that question with an answer, Derek simply raised a brow as he dropped Talia's fifth and final claw into the triskele box before handing it over to his uncle. Derek stood up with folded arms, Gabby taking his lead, assuming that she too might wanna take a step back from it, whatever it was exactly, she wasn't sure what she'd gotten herself into, but she knew it couldn't be good.
Peter stared into the cylinder, at the five claws belonging to his sister that sat at the bottom, he was nervous, an unusual feeling for him. He was Peter Hale. Derek waited impatiently for Peter to shove his hand into the cylinder, tempered to do it for him, a thought that someone else had as she did exactly that. Gabby shoved Peter's hand into the cylinder, taking Derek by surprise as the two of them watched the man's eyes shift into a cold steel blue as he yelled in pain. When he pulled his hands from the triskele box, his sister's claws were attached to his hand, he looked at them with a contorted face, slightly horrified by the sight. They weren't his color.
"What happens now?" Gabby asked the Hales.
Derek explained that using his mother's claws, Peter would impale him in the back of the neck, it would allow him to see and communicate with her. Inside of his own super unconsciousness. He had never done it before, he had never had the claws to do it, he hadn't known anyone else do it either, not in this way. Scott, Stiles, and Allison had used the Nemeton, but that wasn't an option after Jennifer had taken power from it again. And after he gave her the rundown, she wished she had never asked in the first place.
"This is going to be excruciatingly painful," Peter stated plainly, though it seemed obvious, even to Gabby who'd known nothing about it until now. He had seen it done to other people, Isaac for one, when they tried to find out where the Alpha pack were keeping Erica and Boyd, he watched Peter search through his mind to find the answer, it had looked horrifying. Yet he told Peter to do it anyway. "Oh, I'm going to. I just wanted you to know we all have our petty revenges."
Peter shoved his new claws into the nape of Derek's neck without a hint of remorse, a malicious smile across his face as Gabby cringed, almost throwing up at the sight as she turned away from it, unsure how he could do it so casually, as though it was nothing. She sat down, needing a little breather as she watched the exchange in front of them in horror, unsure how long these kinds of things took.
Derek inhaled sharply as he opened his eyes, waking up in his subconcious as he looked around, he was in his loft, but not as he knew it. It was still dark and cold, still lacking a homely touch but what was most noticable about it, was the growth of the Nemeton in the middle of it, right at his feet. Derek's attention didn't remain on the Nemeton for long before he'd heard the soft tapping of paws on the floor, coming toward the open door of his loft, the dark wolf paused for a second before leaping onto the three in front of him, meeting the man's eye level. She flashed her eyes a searing red, ensuring her son knew it was her and that it had worked, she was here, and ready to answer all of the questions he had ready and waiting.
He was astonished for a while, in disbelief that it was real, that his mother was in front of him, he hadn't seen her since he was just sixteen, still a nuisance to the world, still so unsure about who he was. Perhaps things hadn't changed as much as they should have. That was just one thing he planned to unravel with his mother.
Unable to take anymore, Peter snatched his claws out of Derek's neck, the blonde who'd sat on the couch anxiously waiting for it to be over jumped up, rushing over to him as he fell back in the chair. Her first question was whether he was okay, but his uncle had other questions in mind, his worries were less about Derek and more so about what Talia said. Did he seer her? What did you ask her? Did she say anything about me? With his last question Derek turned around with sweat dripping down his face, a look of fear and confusion, enough to make him want to hurl.
"Well, that doesn't look good."