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Chad Sutherland ran through the forest as fast as his feet could carry him, dodging branches that whipped at his face anyway, jumped over fallen logs that were in his path. His only source of light was the full moon shining through the trees above him, his flashlight long forgotten several meters in the opposite direction.
He could hear them gaining on him from behind, not even trying to be subtle in their chasing and stalking, the sounds of snarls echoing in the woods. Chad tried not to hysterically hum the werewolf version of the Teddy Bear's Picnic song.
It wasn’t long until his body began to turn against him, his lungs burning, heart pounding against his ribs and his muscles protesting at each step he took. He pushed on though, willing his body to keep going, to keep running.
Chad’s mind was in overdrive, going over all that he had learned about the Hale Pack the past week, about all the supernatural creatures that had ran freely in town, killing and torturing people only to be taken care of by the wolves and their humans. His mind artfully brings up Chris Argent’s words, his warning, “Don’t go after them, Sutherland. I’m telling you, you touch any of their members, you won’t even have to answer to me, because they’ll get to you first.“
He had scoffed at him because what did he know? Just because he embraced the abominations, didn’t mean all Hunters did, that he did. So, against his caution, Chad had gone after them, managed to capture the Alpha and the entire Pack, cubs included, kept them for two days with wolfsbane poison flooding their systems. Not enough to kill them but the right amount to leave them delirious and weak. Make it easier to move them around.
That is, until twenty minutes ago. It was between one blink of an eye to another that his men had slumped to the ground, three of them with an arrow between their eyes, and the last four killed by a man in a red hoodie - irony at it’s best - standing above them, a knife smeared in crimson held in a tight grip.
“Uncle Stiles!” One of the cubs cried out, struggling against the bounds wrapped around her wrists and ankles, eyes glowing crystal blue.
Chad had heard stories about the man standing before him, how they just called him Stiles, but still had werewolves and some Hunters who had the bad luck of meeting him, shudder at the mere mention of his name. He wasn’t sure what was fact and fiction, but all stories had some level of truthfulness to it, right? So to know that Stiles had been marked by his Alpha, a claiming bite that let werewolves and Hunters alike know he was apart of a Pack, he was safeguarded and in return protected others was a little daunting, and a whole lot disturbing.
He was also of high rank. Was Second to the Alpha, above all the wolves and humans in the Pack. It was unheard of, was prohibited and protested against by other werewolves stupid enough to venture into Beacon Hills, only to tuck tail and run. It was safe to say, that after ten years of hunting, the shiver that ran up Chad‘s spine was from intimidation.
“It’s alright, Victoria baby. We’re here now. Get them down, Lydia.” Stiles ordered, while pointing his blade in his direction. “You, don’t move or else.”
He took one look at how all the wolves were now crouched behind Stiles, bodies at the ready to attack and snarling through a mouthful of fangs. Hale was too weak to do nothing but slump against the woman named Lydia and the cubs all immediately ran to huddle behind the adult wolves, for reassurance and protection.
Chad was most likely going to die, but he'd be damned if he didn't take some of them with him. So, he took his chances.
He grabbed for his gun and pulled the trigger twice, managing to hit a floppy haired man and blonde woman before running through the exit and into the forest, growls and footsteps following after him.
Veering left after hearing the sling of a bow, Chad dodged the arrow that sailed passed him, burying itself into the base of a tree he was running towards. He had smirked but his victory was short-lived as the head of the arrow exploded in a flare of light, his vision whiting out.
“Fuck!” He cursed, stumbling over his feet and rubbing at his eyes, heart leaping into his throat when the tingling sensation of danger licked at his skin.
Blinking rapidly, spots dancing before his eyes, he could now see that he was surrounded by glowing eyes and Allison Argent, her bow pulled back and an arrow aimed right at him. He glared.
“Drop the gun.” The same red head, Lydia ordered, two matching blades held in her grip.
Jaw clenched, he did, tossing it towards where she stood behind a spiky blonde man that was crouched in front of her.
“You were warned by my father not to come after us. We go by the Code more than you do and yet you still try and kill my Alpha, my husband and you put your filthy hands on our daughter.” Argent snapped, mouth set into a hard line and grip around her bow tightening.
Despite himself, Chad couldn’t help but sneer. “You bed with a monster, give birth to one and you talk about the Code. You wouldn’t know of the Code if it bit you.”
She smirked, teeth bared almost like she was the one that was a wolf. “Oh, but since I bed with a monster, it does bite me, pretty hard and often too.”
"See, you’re nothing but their bitch! Something they can bite and scratch at before disposing you or killing you with an easy snap to the neck. I was just here to clean up the inevitable mess."
Argent pulled back on her bow as the wolves surrounded him snarled, only pausing when a male voice broke the tension with a terse "Enough."
He continued glaring, staying silent.
“Allison,” the same voice broke in from behind, making Chad spin around, but not before getting a glimpse of her tilting her neck back in submission, gaze dropping to the forest ground.
He came face to face with Stiles, eyes hard and the very same blade he saw in the warehouse scratching idly against his chin, blood smearing and painting across his skin.
“She’s right, Sutherland.” He spoke, stepping up between a black, bald man and a curly haired man. “We’ve followed the Code and the treaty drawn up with Chris, even turned the other cheek when you harassed our children, my children. My nieces and nephews. Do you know how hard it was to calm my husband down from going into a blood rage when I was just as fucked off?”
He opted to stay quiet once again, chin jutting out defiantly. It was true that they had been abiding the alliance Argent had shown him, even going to the extent of bringing said Hunter in the fold, almost Pack but not. So, they may have poked the proverbial bear.
“But that wasn’t enough for you fuckers, you just had to go along and take our Pack and our cubs,” His jaw clenched and his glare intensified as snarls all around him sounded, rumbling the ground he stood on. “You took their parents, our Alpha and you tortured them in front of our kids! And you have the nerve to call us the monsters. We’re not the monsters here, you are. You Hunters who think they’re on some mission to rid the Earth of the abominations, when the abomination is staring right at them in the mirror.”
“You can’t kill me,” Chad replied, getting to the point even though his heart was pounding a tattoo against his ribs. "You're human and there are laws."
“But they can,” Chris Argent interrupted, walking into his line of sight from behind Stiles. “All bets were off the second you touched my granddaughter.”
"Besides, there are perks to having the Sheriff as your father." Stiles spoke, winking at him.
Chad swallowed, turning his gaze from the other Hunter and letting it run over the Pack surrounding him, somehow a lot closer than they originally were, before stopping on Stiles.
The man grinned, walking up to him, dodging the punch Chad swung in his direction, only to grab his wrist and twist, the sounds of bone snapping reaching his ears. He grunted out at the pain that flared in his arm, only to cry out loudly just as claws slashed through his leg, muscles and skin ripping open and his body collapsing to the forest floor.
“There’s one last thing you should know, Sutherland,” Stiles whispered, bringing his face close to Chad's as a blade pressed heavily against his throat. “Yes, we bed with wolves, yes we gave birth to them. That doesn't mean us humans are easily disposable, easy to break."
He struggled against the hold, trying to escape as he felt the serrated edge began to cut through his skin, blood sticky and warm running down between the wings of his collarbones.
"But we're a lot more dangerous than our wolves are." Stiles murmured, his eyes still human but glowing a feral golden in the moonlight, as the blade's edge went from ear to ear in a slashing movement. "We've made sure we are and that's why Hunters like you will never win, so long as we're alive. We protect our Pack by any means necessary.”
You go down in the woods today you're sure of a big surprise,
if you go down in the woods today you'd better go in disguise.
For every wolf that ever there was will gather there for certain,
because today's the day the Werewolves have their picnic.