Title: Blue & Gold
Series: Unbalanced (1 of 3)
Category: Teen Wolf/Smallville
Genre: Romance/Drama
Ship: Chloe Sullivan/Derek Hale
Chapter Rating: PG-13/Teen
Overall Rating: NC-17/Explicit
Word Count: 6,219
Summary: The day Chloe was born, a prophecy was made and her destiny was laid out for her. "The White Wolf. Bound to the Broken Boy. Destined to meet a Demon Wolf. The hells will rain pain like no other, but she will survive. She will fight. And when the day comes, she will bring order again."
Previous:
Prologue,
Chapter One,
Chapter Two,
Chapter Three,
Chapter Four,
Chapter Five,
Chapter Six,
Chapter Seven,
Chapter Eight,
Chapter Nine,
Chapter Ten,
Chapter Eleven,
Chapter Twelve,
Chapter Thirteen,
dhfreak Chapter Fourteen
- Family First -
XIV.
Even with her healing, Chloe was pretty sure she was going to be feeling this training exercise for the rest of the week. Bo wasn't even attempting to take it easy on her. It seemed like he was finally putting all of his focus on training and he wasn't letting his anger guide him in every attack. She would be proud of him if it wasn't her who was taking the brunt of each aggressive advance.
"Again," their mother ordered, standing on the sidelines, watching, critiquing.
Chloe wiped her mouth, smearing blood that leaked from a split lip over her chin. She licked it absently and raised an eyebrow at her brother.
His jaw ticked right before he attacked; it was a tell she'd long ago picked up on and usually used to her advantage. This time she purposely reacted a second too late, letting him barrel into her and pin her down in the grass. His hands gripped her shoulders and she felt his claws slice through her shirt and pierce her skin.
"Stop," he growled into her face as it faded back and forth from human to wolf.
She brought her knee up and hit him sharply in the stomach before she flipped them, rolling them over so she was pinning him down. "Stop what?"
With an impressive show of strength, he threw her off of him, pushing up to his feet as she rolled abruptly, hitting the ground in jagged thumps before coming to a halt on her stomach. She shook it off, tossed her hair from her face, and stood. She could feel bruising along the muscles down her side and pressure on her ribs, but she ran at him anyway, sparing no time for healing. She leapt into the air, but he caught her, holding her inches away from him as he snarled angrily.
"You're holding back," he accused. "Stop!" He tossed her again and, this time, instead of letting the ground meet her painfully, she recognized what he wanted and caught herself. Her hands hit the grass and she back-flipped to safety, landing lightly on her feet.
She stared at him from the corner of her eyes. She'd been holding back so he would look better to their mother, but if he noticed, then so did Moira, which meant she could be doing more harm than good. The problem was that as much as she believed her brother was a good fighter, she wasn't sure he was better than her. And showing him up meant making herself look better for becoming an alpha, which wasn't something she wanted.
"I can't learn if you won't let me," he finally said, rolling his shoulders back and looking at her head on.
With a nod, she accepted his explanation and vowed not to rein herself in.
Fighting had come naturally to her since she was a little girl. Her mother had once explained to her that their abilities allowed for quicker reaction. It was as if the world slowed down and her body sped up. She could see a hit coming and react to it accordingly. But this was afforded to all wolves, so they were put on equal footing when in a fight, not like if she were to go against a human, who wouldn't stand a chance. The difference here was that sometimes she saw things happening before they came. She could read in the tilt of a knee or the bend of an arm where and how the punch or kick would be thrown. And sometimes, like a vision playing out for her, she could see how an opponent would attack and where they would move before they'd even begun.
Like now.
Bo was going to fake left and catch her in the face with his elbow. He would use her disorientation to take her by the neck, bending her forward as he kneed her in the stomach. When she was out of breath and weak, he would tilt her back the other way, kick her feet out from beneath her, slam her down into the ground, and pin her by her throat. Effectively winning.
However, when he came for her, knowing what he would do, she anticipated the fake out and deflected his elbow. She twirled on the tips of her toes and brought her own elbow back behind her, slamming it into his solar plexus. While he arched forward, choking on a lack of air, she wrapped her arm around his head, gripped the back of his shirt, and flipped him up and over until he lay flat on his stomach. She caught his arms and pinned them behind his back as she stood on the back of his knees to keep his legs from helping him. He was done. She had won.
The sound of clapping interrupted the quick staccato of Chloe's heart and she hopped off of him, moving to stand beside her mother. She didn't look smug or arrogant, not like Bo did after a fight, she only looked resigned.
Bo pushed himself up, dusting the dirt off of himself, his lip curled angrily. But he didn't attack her like he had in the past, he didn't defend himself; instead, he marched toward her and held out a hand.
She glanced at it briefly, wondering if it was a trick.
He rolled his eyes. "Good fight."
Blinking, she took his hand hesitantly. "You too."
And then his snarl became a grin. "You're gonna have to tell me how you knew I was trying to fake you out."
She half-smiled. "Now why would I do that? You never tell an opponent what their tell is, Bo. Fighting-101."
He nodded. "Again?"
Her bruises had bruises, but she nodded anyway.
As they moved into position, she saw her mother's thoughtful expression.
Maybe there was hope for him yet.
Chloe groaned as she climbed the stairs. She could feel herself healing, but that didn't mean it felt good. Fighting like they were, her body didn't have time to heal before something else hurt. And now, every inch of her felt like it needed TLC. Bo had wanted to keep going. He was finally starting to pick up on some of her cues, some of the tells she didn't know she had, and was using them to his advantage. It was good, for him, but she was tired.
Walking down the hall, she bypassed her bedroom and instead made her way into her dad's office. His back was to her, his head ducked as he read through a book. She silently took a seat on his couch, letting herself fall sideways until she was curled up comfortably, head perched on the arm.
"Bo finally let you rest?" Gabe asked, somehow knowing it was her without having to look.
She smiled. Sometimes she thought he had a little wolf in him. "I wouldn't say 'let'… I didn't give him much of a choice."
He chuckled under his breath before he turned to see her, pulling his glasses off his nose and letting them fall to his chest, hanging off the chain he wore around his neck. He looked her over slowly, his brow furrowed. "You look rough."
"Thanks, dad. Just what I wanted to hear."
His lips twitched faintly. "This calls for cocoa," he decided, nodding as he stood. As he moved to the door, he anticipated her next words. "Extra marshmallows," he assured.
She smiled, curling up tighter as she laid in wait for him to return.
Time passed slowly as she gazed out the window, watching a bird swoop through the air playfully, gliding and soaring with no destination in mind. She could make out the faint red feathers on its belly, blending in with the blue-black of the others. Briefly, she wondered if Brody had seen it. If it was one of the many birds he'd fixed up and let free, only to find it would return and visit him from time to time, appreciating his help.
"You wanted to be a bird when you were four."
Chloe turned toward his voice, smiling as her dad handed her a steaming mug of cocoa while he retook his seat, rolling it closer to her. She sat up, holding it with both hands and sipping slowly. "Really?"
He nodded. "You told us wolves were boring and you wanted to be a bird. You wanted to fly around and see what everyone else was doing. You said you'd visit Lois whenever you wanted, you could just fly over there, day and night. And you'd sit on the window sill while Ella baked, like the birds in those Disney movies you liked. Bo said you just wanted Ella's pies and you told him that you'd be such a small bird that just a crumb would fill you up."
Grinning lightly, she stared down into her mug. "What'd you say?"
"That there were upsides to being a bird, flight and freedom being one of them, but with wolves you'd always have a pack, a family. And then I told you I didn't like heights and you felt bad for me and told me you'd never make me fly with you."
She laughed. "Because my tiny bird-self could lift you up…"
He chuckled to himself, smiling lightly. "You thought so at the time."
Humming, she shook her head and curled deeper into the couch. "Are there bird shifters?" she wondered.
Standing from his chair, he moved to his bookshelf and brought down a particularly old looking book with intricate carvings all along the cover and binding. "This is the Lane bestiary," he explained. "Every creature you can think of, and many you wouldn't, are in here, extinct or not."
Taking it from his outstretched hand, she fingered through a few random pages, looking at the faded hand-made drawings that had been added over the years, some more crudely made than others. Finally, she flipped to the back to search through the glossary for any avian shifters. "Crows and ravens… Why am I not surprised?"
He snorted. "Pigeons aren't exactly intimidating."
She laughed under her breath, nodding agreeably. Glancing up at him, she wondered, "Did you ever want to be a shifter when you were growing up?"
He tipped his head thoughtfully. "Maybe when I was very young… But as I grew up, when I saw the toll it took on so many, it became less glamorous."
Her brow furrowed curiously.
"It's different here. Your pack is your family. You were raised with them and so you don't know what it's like for others… But there are some packs that aren't as warm or as welcoming. Some alphas only want power and not family." He frowned. "And when you're raised as a druid, you see things differently. The shifters aren't always the heroes of the story. They're just another character."
"So what are the hunters then?"
"Druids are a balance between the two. Wolves and hunters are two sides of a coin, opposing forces where neither is better than the other."
She snorted to herself disagreeably.
"You were raised to see them as the enemy, just as they were to see the same in you. To them, you're a time bomb. Eventually, you'll kill and it will be their job to put you down."
She blinked, dropping her gaze to her cocoa before she took a long drink of it, licking the marshmallow foam from her lips. "Not all wolves kill."
"Not all wolves don't."
She stared at him a moment. "Is it right, though? An eye for an eye?"
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "If a wolf kills someone, the first reaction of the pack is important. Does it punish him or does it absolve his conscious? If their first thought is to tell him it isn't his fault, he lost control and it happens, then that wolf learns to separate his actions from the wolf's actions. But they're one in the same. If that wolf is punished then, much like a child, he learns that he has to find an anchor, he has to keep himself in line. What he did was wrong and he can't let it happen again. Now, from a hunter's point of view, that wolf is a murderer and there is no guarantee he won't continue to kill. For all they know, he's gotten a taste for blood and he likes it. If they let him go free, he could kill more and they have the ability to stop him, to save people." He stared at her. "What would you do?"
She frowned. "If I killed?"
He shook his head. "Let's say you're an alpha, you have a pack member who's killed someone. It's a full moon, he couldn't control himself, and a girl is dead."
She swallowed tightly. "I don't know. I… I can't let him do it again."
"There are hunters. They know who killed the girl, they know he's in your pack, and they're prepared to take care of it. Do you kill the beta, fight the hunters to keep him safe, or let the hunters have him?"
She gripped her mug tightly. "He's my beta… What he did was wrong and I would have to deal with him myself. But I wouldn't let the hunters do it. They would be cruel. And the last face he sees shouldn't be a stranger."
"Would you kill him yourself then?" He met her eyes seriously. "He's killed one person and he admits he might kill another. He's scared. He's sorry."
Chloe could imagine it. She could imagine a young wolf, maybe as old as Noah. He would cry and beg her for guidance. He would tell her the whole story. How he didn't know what happened at first, but something snapped and there was a girl. She was young, maybe she was walking home from college. She wasn't aware of what was stalking her, what was coming from her. He attacked and slaughtered her before she could even catch a breath to scream. Her life would end, abruptly and without a moment's hesitation. And now she had a wolf on her hands, his paws red with the blood of an innocent.
If he was hers, that meant she trained him. She stood by him during his first transformation. She would know him completely; his fears, his dreams, his hopes and aspirations. She would know what he looked like when he was happy or sad, how he acted when he was angry. She would know about his family, treat him like one of her own. So when it came to deciding his fate, she would have all these facts. She would have to kill him herself or try again to teach him control. But he didn't learn it the first time, making it even harder the second time around. What if he simply couldn't and he killed someone else? Would she try again and again and again? How many lives were worth one beta?
"I don't know," she admitted, raising her eyes to meet his, feeling at a loss despite knowing that this wasn't the case. She wasn't an alpha and she had no beta with a kill to his name. "There are too many factors. Too many 'what if's'… If I kill him, I would always wonder. Did I do the right thing? Could he have gotten control? But if I didn't and he killed again, I would blame myself for letting someone else get hurt…" She looked up at him earnestly. "What's the right answer?"
He smiled then, gentle as could be, and she didn't understand why.
"Drink your cocoa," he told her. "It's getting cold."
Rolling her eyes, she finished off the mug quickly before asking him again, "What should I do? If that really happened… Which outcome is the right outcome?"
"That depends on the wolf, doesn't it? If he was your beta, you would know him, know if he was teachable, if this was a mistake, or if it was likely he would do it again… But, you know what the important part is, Chloe?"
She shook her head.
"It's knowing that you might not always have the answer, and sometimes you have to ask for help. A good alpha knows that she won't always be right, but she surrounds herself with people who will help her make that decision in the end."
Her eyes dropped to her lap. "That's why we have emissaries. To help us make those decisions."
"Emissaries help in that, yes. But you always have your pack or your mate, someone you trust who can look at things objectively and help you come to the best conclusion."
"I don't think I want that pressure, though… I don't ever want to hold someone else's life in my hands." She shuddered, lifting her knees up and hugging them to her chest, her feet balanced on the edge of the couch.
"Sometimes the trade-off is worth it…"
She raised an eyebrow at him. "What do you mean?"
"If that life wasn't in your hands, it would be in someone else's… Who would treat it better?"
Frowning, her gaze fell once more in thought.
"That's enough deep thinking for one day, I think." Gabe stood from his chair and held a hand out to her. "Come on. I think we all deserve a night off. You round up the kids and I'll talk to your mom. How does Italian sound?"
She smiled brightly then. "Awesome." Taking his hand, she stood from the couch and leaned against his side as he hugged her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. For a day that started off rather poorly, she thought it was ending on a nice note.
[
continue.]