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vrednic · 3 years

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COLLATERAL DAMAGE (PT. 2)

Teen Wolf x Vampire Diaries AU

Prompt: Teen Wolf, but with a twist. Scott McCall has a twin sister… and she falls in love with Derek Hale.

Summary: After Scott refuses to join his pack, Peter Hale turns Serena McCall into a werewolf. Will her transformation be for better… or for worse?

Word Count: 3,285

Author’s Note: This series will skim the events of seasons 1-3. I have a lot of content planned, so there will be some skipping around at certain points, but it will all work in unison, I promise! I hope you all enjoy part 2! Please let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading :)

*PART ONE IS HERE. *

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Werewolves.

The topic of lycanthropy was one I hadn’t visited since freshman year english. I thought back to the unit of Greek mythology, and how we had been assigned research projects on famous Greek myths. My english teacher gave us the liberty to choose our own myths, and I had naively chosen Lycaon of Arcadia. Lycaon, the king of Arcadia, attempted to trick Zeus into eating human flesh, testing to see if he was truly all-knowing. Angered by Lycaon’s blasphemous actions, Zeus punished Lycaon by turning him into a wolf.

Oh, the irony of it all.

For the past three weeks, I have been given gradual insight into the world of the supernatural. The full moon was fast-approaching, and I needed to learn everything I could as quickly as possible. I wasn’t yet sure how I felt about my transformation. I was amazed at how quickly I began noticing changes. Overnight, it seemed, my senses had been dialed up to a thousand. I was stronger, faster, and more confident. I could smell, hear, and sense things other people couldn’t. One of the most fascinating things about my newfound abilities was that my body’s healing process was nearly instantaneous. The only downside of it was that I had yet to experience the brutality of the full moon. I was afraid that I would see things differently after, that I’d realize that I’d never be able to control it. Would my supernatural powers really be worth being enslaved to an insatiable bloodlust every month? Would it be worth putting my friends and loved ones at risk, especially when one slip-up could mean death for any and all of them?

I had been training tirelessly with Scott every day since I was bitten. Before school, after school, and during free periods. He had effectively taught me how to make my claws appear and disappear at will, how to partially shift into my werewolf form, how to follow scents, how to decipher chemo-signals, and how to trigger the healing process of an injury using pain. I was impressed with my progress, but I knew that I had only been exposed to bits and pieces of the extensive supernatural spectrum that I was now a part of. I had always been good at the technical side of things, so I knew that learning the basics of lycanthropy wasn’t going to be an issue. I considered myself to be on the smart side-- I had no problem displaying resourcefulness or creativity or administering critical thinking in complex situations. One thing I wasn’t very good at, however, was regulating my emotions.

When our parents got divorced, Scott and I handled things very differently. He was always a mama’s boy, and I was a daddy’s girl. Our father was an alcoholic and a cheater; something I knew all too well, but was also something I wanted to remain oblivious to. I’m assuming this realization is what made it easier for Scott to hate him, to be okay with moving on without him. It was harder for me to cope with his absence because our dad had always been my rock -- my hero -- and I couldn’t picture him ever hurting anyone. Especially me.

The night my mom kicked my dad out of the house for good, he had come home drunk. He instigated an argument with her over something, as usual. But with them it was never just an argument; it always ended up with them screaming at each other. Scott and I shared a room back then, and it was located right by the staircase, which was where they happened to be arguing that night. Not surprisingly, their heated voices turned into shouts, and we were both awoken. We peered through a crack in the door as our parents fought. My dad could barely keep his balance; his cheeks were flushed, his eyes crazy, violent words spewing from his mouth fueled by intoxication. I remembered vividly how he had lost his composure and grabbed my mother by the neck, slamming her against the wall. I let out an audible gasp and stood frozen in horror. Scott flung the door open and rushed into the hall, immediately wedging himself between our mother and father. My dad grabbed Scott’s arm, attempting to pull him out of the way, but yanked my brother with too much force. He was flung against the railing of the staircase, and he tumbled down the stairs. He was unconscious at the bottom of the stairs for maybe 30 seconds, and when he came to, he didn’t remember a thing. My mother ushered us back into our room and put us into bed. I fell asleep crying that night, but I didn’t know exactly for whom I was crying. Had it been for my brother? Had it been for my mother? For the loss of my dad? Or was it for me?

I hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye to him. I woke up the following morning, expecting him to be there, bags in tow, waiting to talk to us one last time. But he was already gone. I knew he didn’t deserve it, but I couldn’t help but miss him. When the plea for divorce was initiated, there was never a discussion about shared custody or visitations. Once the divorce was finalized, I knew that he was never coming back. It was because of his betrayal and abandonment that I grew up with issues when it came to trusting people. I was filled with this deep, aching feeling of isolation, and it made me angry. Very. As I grew older, I got better at suppressing it, but I knew that somewhere deep down, it was still there. With the full moon prodding and poking at my resolve and self control, I knew it was only a matter of time before those feelings resurfaced.

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The day of my first full moon, I felt the effects as soon as I got out of bed in the morning. I felt my heartbeat rising with every breath that I took. When I got to school, my senses immediately began to feel overstimulated. Everything was brighter, louder, and more jarring. The sound of the bell ringing made me feel like someone was hammering nails into my skull. The people I passed in the hallway blurred together, all of their emotions and scents hitting me like a door to the face. At lunch, the sound of people’s voices and laughter made me want to tear their heads off. I looked around the cafeteria, feeling myself grow angrier and angrier, for seemingly no reason at all. Rationally, I knew that these people had done nothing wrong. Emotionally, they were the piece of gum stuck under my shoe. My gaze locked on Jackson Whittemore, and I fantasized about how good it would feel to tear his tongue right out of his head. He had always been an asshole to my brother, so why shouldn’t I kill him? It would be extremely satisfying to watch the smug look on his face disappear as I stood over him, my hands drenched in his blood, as I began to tear him limb from limb…

“Uh, Serena? Are you okay?”

Scott’s voice brought me back to reality. I was suddenly overcome with anxiety as I realized the vile intrusive thoughts that I was just experiencing. What was the matter with me? This wasn’t me. I wasn’t a killer. Only, maybe that wasn’t exactly true anymore.

I nodded, fabricating a smile. “Yeah, no, everything’s great. I was just thinking about my research paper for… biology. It’s due tomorrow and I have no clue where to start.”

“That’s fair,” he said. “But remember that it’s perfectly okay for you to be feeling on edge today. It’s your first full moon and I promise nobody will blame you for not feeling or acting like yourself.”

I felt the tension in my shoulders ease ever-so-slightly. I nodded once more, reassuring him that I was in fact okay. I felt better knowing that out of all of the things that had changed, our sibling bond hadn’t. He’d be there with me to make me feel safe and to teach me control. Before long, I would be able to be just like him. I trusted him, and I knew he had faith in me. That meant only one thing: I had to have faith in me too.

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Later in the evening, as the sun was setting, I began feeling the effects of the full moon amplifying. My heartbeat was nearly erratic and Scott was nowhere to be found. I was in the bathroom, standing over the sink and looking at myself in the mirror. There was a flicker of golden yellow in my eyes, and I nearly sobbed out of pure anxiety alone. I balled my hands into fists, trying to focus on anything other than the impending sense of dread that I was experiencing. I felt a warm, slippery substance course down my wrist. Blood.

I opened my fist up, revealing four deep punctures on both of my palms, where my claws had dug into. The temporary flicker of pain was small, but enough to bring me out of the frenzy. I took this opportunity to set out to find Scott.

I didn’t remember the way to the Hale house all too well, but what I did remember was its scent. The smell of charred wood and smoke would be very hard to miss. I maneuvered my way through the darkness, making sure every step I took was careful and calculated. Scott had mentioned that Beacon Hills Preserve was littered with traps set by hunters. It was also a full moon, so I knew there would not be any shortage of hunters roaming around town tonight, hoping to catch and kill their next supernatural victim.

As if on cue, I heard voices from a distance. By the sound of it, there were maybe four or five of them, all men. I swallowed, trying to think of an escape plan. I couldn’t run. It was fall, and the weight of my body against the leaves on the ground would give my location away immediately. I could have hidden, but I knew that they probably had some sort of a thermographic camera. If they happened to get me in one of the shots, I would have considered myself dead.

I tried to weigh any and all other options, but I had none. The best chance at escape that I had right now was simply to run. They sounded far away enough so that even if they did hear me, my superhuman speed would give me an advantage. I decided that now was as good a time as any, and began moving. I tried to keep to the shadows, not daring to make any unnecessary sounds. I noticed too late that I had no idea where I was going. I looked around me, but I couldn’t pinpoint any familiar landmarks. I could have sworn that I was heading back in the direction I came, but judging by my surroundings, that wasn’t the case. I stopped for a moment, attempting to gather my thoughts.

“Come on, Serena,” I whispered to myself. “Think.”

I was jolted away from my thoughts when I saw a red light from my peripheral vision. I was frozen, completely unsure what to do. More red lights emerged from the darkness, pointing straight at me. Lasers. It was then that instinct spoke to me, telling me to run. And that’s exactly what I did.

I turned on my heel and bolted away from where the hunters had been. I didn’t take the time to care about the tracks or the noise I left in my wake. I had the advantage of speed, but they had the advantage of knowledge and experience. These were professional killers. I wouldn’t be surprised if they knew what move I’d make next even before I did. Through the commotion, I almost forgot why I had been in the woods in the first place. The fury of the full moon hit me, unforgiving. It was as if she allowed me only a few moments of peace before the storm. I looked up at the sky and the moon glimmered at its peak. Almost instantaneously I was overcome with an animalistic urge to go back and rip the head off of every single hunter that was on my trail.

My claws and fangs appeared as if by magic, and my eyes were aglow. I felt angry-- so angry. But it was that anger that gave me power. I felt strong… unstoppable. Against all rational thought, I turned back around, using my infrared eyes to see through the darkness. A few rows of trees ahead was where I spotted them. Two of them were kneeled down, examining the tracks that I had left behind, judging the direction I must have taken. The other three were behind them, standing guard. They looked around, weapons drawn, ready to fire at any given moment.

I growled. It was a sound that conveyed equal parts rage and purpose. I was hiding behind a tree, looking for the perfect moment to attack. Just as I was about to launch myself in their direction, a pair of hands snagged me from behind with tremendous force. Before I could growl or scream, the person used one hand to cover my mouth and tucked me against his chest, making sure our bodies were still shielded by the tree. I tipped my head back to see who it was, and was met with the fiery gaze of Derek Hale.

He broke eye contact first and peered over my head, trying to come up with an escape tactic. His stone cold composure made it clear that it wasn’t his first time evading death by the hands of werewolf hunters. I, on the other hand, was terrified. I felt an equal amount of shame and embarrassment once I realized how foolish I had been. It was a night of the full moon and I wasn’t in control, for one. I also felt extremely stupid for walking into woods that were infested with hunters; ones that wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet between my eyes. Another shame-inducing component was the fact that Derek just had to be the one to find me. I had gotten a brief description of him from Scott, so I knew that he was hardcore. He also hated liabilities, and at the moment, that’s exactly what I was.

“Now’s not the time to wallow in shame,” he whispered to me, his voice gruff. “If you hadn’t noticed, they’ve got us completely surrounded. It’s a miracle they haven’t seen us yet.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off. “Don’t bother denying it. The smell of embarrassment is rolling off of you like a stench.”

Your commentary isn’t exactly helping, I wanted to say to him. But I knew better than to push his buttons, especially when we were on the brink of being discovered. I kept my back against the tree, waiting for further instructions. After a few minutes, Derek finally spoke again.

He lowered his mouth next to my ear, his warm breath sending a tingling sensation onto my neck and down my back. “On my signal, you run. I’ll stay behind and cause a distraction so you can get away.” He pointed behind him to another row of trees. “Run that way. Get out of the woods as fast as you can.”

Before I could get a word out, he was gone. He roared loudly, capturing the attention of the hunters that resided a few yards away. As they ran to him, he turned back to look at me, flashing his icy blue eyes. That was my cue. I took off running in the direction he had said. I heard the commotion of the fight almost the entire way. Growls and roars from Derek’s end were met with the sound of guns firing. I found myself secretly hoping that he would be okay, although in the back of my mind I knew he would be. He was Derek Hale, after all.

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I made it out of the preserve after only a handful of minutes of running. At the end of the treeline, right where the road started, a vehicle’s headlights cut through the darkness. The closer I got, the more details I could make out. It was a blue 1980 Jeep CJ5. Standing beside it were two silhouettes, both male. I let out a sigh of relief.

I jogged the rest of the way and launched myself into Scott’s arms. He squeezed me tightly and ushered me into the Jeep. Stiles drove onto the road, taking the route that led back to my house. Scott turned to look at me from the passenger’s seat.

“Why the hell were you in the woods?” He asked. His tone was firm but still held a touch of delicacy. We both knew it was more for my sake than his. “Didn’t I tell you about the hunters? The preserve is not a safe place for a werewolf on a night of a full moon. Argent and his hunters have memorized every square inch of those woods. You’re lucky Derek found you when he did. If he hadn’t, I’m sure Gerard would’ve turned you into a human kebab by now.”

I felt my throat tighten in frustration. “The imagery really isn’t necessary. I know what I did was stupid, and I’m sorry, but I didn’t know what else to do. I felt like I was losing control and you weren’t there, Scott!” My voice caught on his name, and I had to take a few moments to collect myself. “You weren’t there and, quite frankly, I have no one else to turn to on this. I don’t have a best friend like yours. I don’t have one that’ll pick up my call in the middle of the night and be willing to be a part of the world of the supernatural. I don’t have a best friend who’ll chain me up on a full moon and help me find restraint. I was all alone in my home, which I could have easily torn apart if I had lost control of myself tonight. I was counting on you to help me, and you weren’t there.”

The air was thick with tension. I could sense the sadness emanating from both Scott and Stiles. I felt guilty for taking all of my frustration out on my brother, but everything I said was true, and I wasn’t going to apologize for how I felt. Scott was a natural leader, and I admired that about him. Being a leader meant taking on responsibilities, and I understood that he wouldn’t be around all the time. Over the weeks following my transformation, I got a chance to see just how much people needed him. Peter wanted him in his pack. Derek wanted him as an ally. Stiles wanted him as a best friend. Hell, even the lacrosse team needed him as team captain. But tonight was the one night that I needed him. I needed my brother, and he wasn’t there.

“I’m so sorry, Serena. I can do better, I promise. If you’ll just let me--” he began.

“No,” I said, cutting him off. “I don’t want to talk. Just take me home.”

With that, I turned to face the window, looking at the blur of lights, cars, houses, and dark, desolate streets passing me by. Scott sighed, but he didn’t protest.

We rode in silence the entire way back.