┌─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───┐
chapter twenty-four!
HUMAN SACRIFICES
└─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───┘

( alpha pact, pt. ii — lunar eclipse, pt. i )

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

THE ICE MAKES a splashing sound as it makes contact with the water in the metal tub. Vera shakes the now-empty plastic bag to get the last few cubes out, shivering at the mere thought of having to get inside the freezing bath. At least in Isaac's case, he had only been in there for a few minutes. They have no idea how long this ritual will take.

Deaton had added a bit of mistletoe to each of the three tubs they'd lined up in the examination room— another deviation from the last time they'd done this. The man empties one last bag of ice, making the water hardly visible beneath the thick layer in each basin, then looks up at the three participants.

"All right," he says. "What did you bring?"

Stiles rubs his thumb over a star-shaped object in his hand. "Um, I got my dad's badge. Jennifer kinda crushed it in her hand, so I tried hammering it out a bit. Still doesn't look great."

"It doesn't need to look good if it has meaning," Deaton assures him gently.

"Is that an actual silver bullet?" Isaac questions, motioning to what Allison is holding.

"My dad made it," she explains, her voice uncharacteristically quiet. "It's kind of a ceremonial thing. When one of us finishes learning all the skills to be a hunter, we forge a silver bullet as a testament to the code."

Deaton nods. "Scott?"

He sighs and opens his palm. "My dad got my mom this watch when she first got hired at the hospital. She used to say it was the only thing in their marriage that ever worked."

"Okay," the Druid begins, "the three of you will get in. Each of us will hold you down until you're essentially... well, dead. But it's not just someone to hold you under. It needs to be someone who can pull you back, someone that has a strong connection to you, a kind of emotional tether."

Lydia and Allison share a knowing look. Conversely, Vera, Dominic, and Isaac all glance at each other in questioning. It seems obvious that Deaton will be the one to assist Scott, but who will help Stiles? He and Vera had only become close over the summer. The idea of it being Isaac is almost laughable. That leaves—

"Dominic, you go with Stiles."

Dom's eyes widen, as do Stiles', both boys glancing at each other briefly before tearing their gaze away as if it had burned them. Stiles finds an abrupt interest in his shoes. Dom shifts from foot to foot, nodding at Vera when she gives him an encouraging thumbs-up.

"And Vera, you can help Scott."

Vera blinks in surprise. She'd assumed that Deaton would be the one to do it— after all, he's not only Scott's boss, but also a man who had helped Scott through the roughest transition of his life, even if Scott hadn't been aware of his involvement with the supernatural yet. And yet it makes sense why Deaton would trust Vera with this task. Even though Stiles had disliked Vera for months, Scott continued to give her the benefit of the doubt. He's usually the one to be her voice of reason. She trusts him with her life.

Scott gives her a small grin. Vera returns it, honored that he feels comfortable with the idea of their bond. If he does become a True Alpha like Deucalion thinks he will, she's certain that he'll do a damn good job of it.

Vera slips her denim jacket off and hands it to Isaac for safekeeping, not wanting the sleeves to get wet. Allison, Scott, and Stiles each remove their shoes, socks, and outerwear, leaving all three of them dressed in dark clothing— very fitting for a kind of funeral.

They step up to the tubs with expressions of apprehension. Scott, ever one to put on a brave face, tries to mask his fear, but Vera doesn't need supernatural senses to notice the tightness of his shoulders or the slight clenching of his fists. He glances back at her. She gives him another supportive smile, though it wavers a bit. The idea of her friends being dead, however temporarily, is terrifying.

Scott places both hands on the sides of the tub to brace himself as he climbs in. He shivers, blowing forceful exhales from his mouth at the frigid temperature of the bath. By then, Allison is already standing in it, the water nearly touching the hem of her dress. Vera cringes. At least the boys have pants on— Allison has less clothing to separate her skin from the icy water. Her pale complexion has already started to flush pink due to the cold.

Once they're all sitting, Stiles says to Scott with his teeth chattering, "By the way, if I don't make it back and you do, you should probably know something. Your dad's in town."

Wonderful timing, Stiles, Vera thinks wryly. Come to think of it, she doesn't think she's ever seen Scott's father. Melissa had been the one to show up to all of their school functions since pre-school.

At Deaton's signal, Vera places her hands on Scott's shoulders. His muscles are rigid beneath her hands. Both fear and chill send shivers erupting through his entire body, so she squeezes his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

They each take deep breaths to prepare themselves for what is to come. Then, each of them is pushed under. As soon as the ice-cold water washes over Vera's fingers, she sucks in a gasp, unable to imagine what it would be like to have her entire body submerged in it. But she keeps pushing until it covers Scott's entire head. And then she holds him there, even as he naturally begins to jerk as his body fights to survive.

Scott eventually falls still after a few moments. She, Dominic, and Lydia look to Deaton for directions, but he holds up a finger as a signal for them to wait. Vera's hands begin to turn numb. She runs a thumb over Scott's shoulder blade as she keeps her firm grip on him, wondering if he can even feel it in whatever alternate state of consciousness he's in.

"Okay," Deaton says after a few moments. "You can let go now."

Vera releases Scott and tries to shake some feeling back into her hands. She looks to her right to see Dominic staring at Stiles' unmoving form beneath the water.

"They're gonna make it back, right?" he questions, his voice unexpectedly thick. Apparently Stiles' words about not surviving had struck a chord within him, making his brows scrunch together and a troubled frown pull down his full lips.

"We can hope so," Deaton answers honestly. Sometimes, she'd like him to lie to them just so she can feel a bit better and stop being so damn terrified all the time.

Isaac passes each of them a towel to dry their hands. Vera wraps her freezing hands in the fabric, hoping to warm them back up again.

It's then when she feels a shift in her gut that makes her fall still. It almost reminds her of how she'd felt when Boyd had died, but the sensation isn't as harrowing. Instead of the loss of a limb, it feels like one has been mangled. It's the only way she can describe it.

She looks up to see Isaac holding a hand to his stomach, a crease wrinkling his forehead. "You felt that, too?"

He nods. "You think something's wrong with Derek?"

Vera thinks for a moment. All the other times her body had tried to tell her something about her pack, the sensation had been familiar to whatever they'd been feeling— like when she couldn't breathe after Boyd tried to drown himself. But Derek has broken countless limbs and she's never felt it before.

"What do you feel?" Deaton questions curiously.

"It's like..." Isaac searches for the words. "It's like someone broke my arm, but it can't heal. Or... like someone dropped me off in the middle of nowhere and told me to find my way back home."

"You feel lost?"

Isaac nods once more. After a beat, Vera copies the action; she supposes that's another sensation she can detect.

Deaton's eyes drift to the three tubs in the back of the room. She only realizes he's looking at Scott after he says, "Usually, that's how Betas can feel after the loss of their Alpha."

Vera's heart skips a beat. "You don't think Derek—"

"I'm sure Derek's fine," he assures her before she can start on a worried tangent. "There are other ways to stop being an Alpha other than death. They're rare and incredibly difficult, but they exist. A shift in power, for example."

A shift in power to another Alpha. "But Scott's not an Alpha."

"Not yet."

Vera leans against a desk to process this information. She doesn't know what to do without an Alpha that's not Derek. Even before she'd been properly bitten, he'd treated her as a member of his pack— the very first member. He'd warned Isaac, Erica, and Boyd that she was to be treated with the respect they'd give a fellow wolf. Then, once he'd saved her life, she'd become supernaturally connected to him. The bond had felt natural since Vera has known Derek her entire life. But for his role to shift to someone else... she has no idea how to feel about that.

The minutes tick by with the others still in the tubs. Dominic goes home after the first hour because his family has returned and they want to ensure he's actually alive. Vera and Lydia attempt to pretend to be normal teenagers by spreading their Algebra homework on the floor and working on it together. There's no English homework because, well, Jennifer, no History homework because their teacher is dead, and no Physics homework because Mr. Harris is probably also dead. It doesn't leave them with much to do after they finish their math work except sit around and wait for the others to return to the land of the living.

Vera tries to contact Derek, but he doesn't pick up his phone or answer his texts. Cora is out of the question. So she does the unthinkable and actually calls Peter, pacing back and forth in Deaton's vacant office and gnawing on her fingernails as it rings.

He surprisingly answers after the fourth ring. "Ah, my favorite non-blood-related niece—"

"Is Derek okay?" she cuts him off, not in the mood for his sarcasm (but is she ever?). It makes him sigh through the receiver.

"Yes, he's fine," he replies. Vera's shoulders slump as they lose their tension. "Little tired from giving up his power, so he's taking a lovely nap on the floor—"

"He gave up his power?"

"Well, if you let me finish..."

Vera glares daggers into the wall across from her but stays silent.

"Thank you. Yes, he gave up his power to save Cora. It seemed to work, but it wiped him out, hence the nap. He's not an Alpha anymore."

A wave of relief crashes into her, so powerful she has to catch herself on Deaton's desk to prevent herself from collapsing to the floor. He saved Cora. Her sister is going to be okay. She feels a bit guilty now for assuming he wasn't doing anything to help, but it still doesn't give him an excuse for ignoring her earlier.

"Did you find the root cellar?"

It takes Vera a moment to remember she's still on the line with Peter. She blinks before replying, "We're getting there. We performed an ancient ritual sacrifice to discover its location, but we're not sure how long it'll take."

"Sounds normal for Beacon Hills."

This is probably the longest conversation she's had with Peter in recent months. As if realizing that, Vera hangs up on him because she has all the information from him that she needs and no emotional attachment to him whatsoever.

As the hours pass, the night smothering the clinic in darkness, Vera texts her mom that she won't be home tonight because of supernatural stuff. Mai's response shows that she isn't pleased, but she understands. Only someone who's been dealing with this shit since her late teens can have that attitude toward their daughter staying out so late— she'd moved to Beacon Hills and met Talia at the age of nineteen.

She doesn't want to risk sleeping through her friends' awakening, but the quietness of the building and the shadows spreading across the waiting room make sleep tempting. She and Isaac sit next to each other in the uncomfortable plastic chairs that line the wall. Her fingers tap restlessly on the armrest, both from her ADHD and a futile attempt at remaining awake. Her head keeps bobbing as her eyelids get heavier and heavier. Eventually, she can't resist the lull of sleep anymore and succumbs to her fatigue.

Vera wakes when the front door jingles. She blearily blinks open her eyes to see Dominic returning and heading to the back room. It's still dark outside, so she doesn't know what time it is. When she tries to shift and grab her phone from her pocket, she realizes that her head is resting on Isaac's shoulder. Not only that, but she's curled into him like a cat, the armrests between them digging into her ribs. A pressure on top of her head informs her that Isaac's cheek is resting on it. One of his arms is around her shoulders, his opposite hand resting on her leg. Her fingers are dangerously close to his.

Her glasses are skewed on her face from Isaac's shoulder pushing them up, but she's still able to see Lydia passed out in one of the chairs closer to the examination room. Her hair is practically falling out of her braid and her chin is propped up in her hand. An elbow rests on the arm of her seat.

Vera lifts a hand to remove her glasses from her face so she doesn't accidentally break them. When she slightly lifts her head, Isaac releases a discontented grumble and nestles more firmly against her, wrapping his arm tighter around her shoulders. Her eyes go wide as saucers. Maybe, once upon a time, she may have instantly jumped away and fired a teasing retort at Isaac, but now she stays quiet and still. She still slips her glasses off and tucks one of the temple parts into her shirt, but other than that, she doesn't adjust her position.

Then she makes a daring move. She hesitates for a moment before lifting her hand and letting it ghost over Isaac's fingers. He twitches a bit in his sleep at the feather-light contact. She finally gathers her courage and rests her hand on top of his, part of her wondering why the hell she's doing this and another part surprised at how natural it feels. Even though the chair is still digging into her ribs, she's comfortable.

So she falls back asleep.

— ✯✯✯ —

Vera isn't sure how much she manages to sleep that night, but when she finally notices sunlight drifting through the waiting room from the full-glass front door, she opens her eyes and squints as they adjust. The pressure on top of her head is gone. It takes her exhausted brain a second to process the fact that she's still leaning on Isaac's shoulder, causing her to lift her head and groan at the stiffness in her neck from keeping it in the same place for hours.

She turns to see Isaac fully awake and watching her with mild amusement. The warm light of the early morning sun makes his pale skin look golden, bringing out the lighter parts of his curly hair, and Vera decides that it isn't fair for him to look good this early. His cerulean eyes stand out against the orange-tinted lighting as he regards her.

"Sorry," she says, because she doesn't know what else to do.

"It's fine," he replies. "Sleep well?"

Vera scoffs. "No." She rotates her aching neck with a cringe. "These chairs aren't exactly luxury. And your shoulder is bony."

"You didn't seem to mind," Isaac counters teasingly. "It took you ten minutes to start using me as your own personal pillow."

"Yet you didn't move me."

"I didn't."

Vera looks at him, noticing how close their proximity is. Their chairs are pressed arm-to-arm, leaving virtually no space between them. He simply watches her as well. His eyes search hers for something, though she isn't sure what, and she abruptly decides that she hates him at this moment, but not for the usual reasons. She hates that he can get away with doing that without her wanting to punch him in the face. She hates that, somehow, how close they are doesn't seem like enough. And most of all, she hates how her traitorous heart begins to pound.

Isaac's lips curve into a smirk once the sound registers. "Flustered, Pérez?"

Vera isn't sure whether she wants to hit him or kiss him to get that stupid grin off his face.

They wait for several more hours. Vera starts to get restless, so she offers to take Dominic's car to pick up some toothbrushes, toothpaste, breakfast, and much-needed coffee for everyone. Not even that is enough to calm her rapid-fire nerves. She sips her iced latte with her leg bouncing up and down. Truth be told, when Deaton had said he didn't know how long the sacrifice would take, she didn't expect it to last this long. It's ten in the morning; they've hit the twelve-hour mark.

A little around three in the afternoon, right when Vera had begun dozing off again for a nap, she's startled awake by the sound of three powerful gasps for air. She instantly shoots to her feet and jabs her finger into a sleeping Isaac's side until he wakes up. The two of them rush to the examination room to see Scott, Stiles, and Allison starting to climb out of the tubs.

"I saw it!" Scott exclaims, his black hair plastered to his forehead and clothes dripping water all over the floor. "I know where it is!"

"We passed it," Stiles adds. "There's a stump. It's this huge tree. Well, it's not huge anymore— it was cut down. But it's still big, though. Very big."

"It was the night we were looking for the body," Scott says to Stiles. Through her confusion at their rambling, she slightly flinches at the mention of Laura in such an unexpected and brash manner.

"Yeah, the same night you were bit by Peter."

"I was there, too, in the car with my mother," Allison says. "We almost hit someone."

Scott's eyes fill with realization. "It was me. You almost hit me!" He turns toward where the five of them are standing, his voice filled with conviction. "We can find it."

When none of them respond, Allison asks with her arms hugged tight to her soaked dress, "What?"

"You guys were out a long time," Isaac explains.

"How long is a long time?" Stiles questions.

Deaton answers, "Sixteen hours."

Scott's eyes widen, filled with panic. "We were in the water for sixteen hours?"

"And the full moon rises in less than four."

Deaton hands the three of them towels to dry themselves off with while they figure out what their next move should be. Obviously, they're cutting it closer to the full moon than they would like to, meaning their options are limited and they don't have much time to dawdle. Especially since it's not only a full moon tonight, it's also a lunar eclipse. That's when werewolves lose all of their power.

Scott, ever the loyalist, comments that he has to find the Alphas again.

"No, dude, you are not going back with them," Stiles protests as soon as the words leave his friend's mouth. His raven locks stick up in all directions from how he'd rubbed it with a towel, his dark shirt becoming slightly lighter as it dries.

"I made a deal with Deucalion," Scott argues. He'll never turn back on his word even if it kills him.

Stiles addresses the rest of the group. "Does anyone else think that sounds a lot like a deal with the devil?"

Vera and Dominic raise their hands. He points at them in thanks.

"Why does it matter, anyway?" Isaac asks.

"Because I still don't think that we can beat Jennifer without their help," Scott replies.

Allison looks at Deaton, a towel wrapped around her shoulders. "He trusts you more than anyone. Tell him he's wrong."

"I'm not so sure he is," Deaton says much to all of their surprises. "Circumstances like this sometimes require that you align yourself with people you'd normally consider enemies."

Vera knows that firsthand. After all, she had asked for Deucalion to ensure her mother's safety. At least that seemed to have worked.

"So we're gonna trust him, the guy who calls himself Death, Destroyer of Worlds? Who ki—" Isaac cuts himself off, glancing briefly at Vera before jerking his head toward her and continuing with, "You know."

"Who brutally murdered my dad," she finishes with a nod.

"I wouldn't trust him, no," Deaton responds, "but you could use him to your advantage. Deucalion may be the enemy, but he could also be the bait."

As they let that sink in, the sound of the front door jingling as it opens greets all of their ears. They look in the direction of the waiting room. It's unlikely that it's a mere pet owner looking for treatment for their animal— at times like this, it never is. It's almost always bad news. Bad supernatural news.

Deaton goes to greet the newcomer. As soon as he steps out of the room, the voice of Ethan Steiner says, "I'm looking for Lydia."

She comes up to Deaton's side, flanked closely by Scott. "What do you want?"

"I need your help."

Stiles pops his head through the doorway as well. "With what?"

The Alpha sighs. "Stopping my brother and Kali from killing Derek."

_______

a/n:

what's this?? could vera be... realizing her feelings for isaac??

also this is how i imagine deaton realizing that stiles and dominic have a bond but aren't doing anything about it:

the next chapter will be the last one set in 3a! i'm SO excited for 3b, you have no idea. it's just a cinematic masterpiece

—kristyn

( word count: 3.7k )