prologue

[ season 1 | episode 11 ]
[ finality ]

               MARLOWE GRAY ST. CLAIRE NEVER KNEW WHAT horrible crime she could've committed in a previous life to deserve the gut-wrenching punishment that was bestowed upon her. Why karma seemed to bring her to her knees at every turn. The girl was never too immoral, always taught to stay on the good side of things, never making a wrong decision in fear of angering whatever God watched from above. Sometimes she even dreamt that her soul was cast into the wrong reality — the wrong life.

When she moved in with her grandmother two years prior, she believed she'd already been dragged through the worst. Hell, there was absolutely no way any amount of pain could surpass the trauma she was put through as a child. Now, laying in the middle of the lacrosse field that she practiced in almost every day, she could feel the book of her life coming to a close. There. That's it, that's the end. In this story, there was no happy ending; just a sixteen year old girl laying in a puddle of her own blood with a man scrutinizing her every gasp and plead for life.

As a kid, she thought there would be peace in the final moments. That everything she'd been pulled through would somehow make sense and that the meaning behind her existence would finally be clear. Instead of the shining lights she dreamed of, Marley was met with the blank night sky. The clouds floating above made it near impossible to see the stars. She couldn't even die beneath her favorite view.

Struggling against the pain that came with teeth being plunged into her abdomen, she whimpered. A tear rolled across her cheek, falling into her ear. She never even got to tell her grandmother how she truly felt. Never got to express the gratitude she was faced whenever her eyes fell upon the wrinkly old woman.

The night was a blur, teenagers dancing and drinking punch, but all she seemed to remember was stumbling on the lacrosse field with a man grasping her bicep. He'd simply told her that she held promise, that he could feel the fire burning in her chest, begging to be let free. And then, like any sane chaperone at a high school dance, he bit her. It was a searing pain, something that accompanied the thought of death, one that struck her rib cage and held her heart hostage.

He knelt down, mumbling something amongst himself, before his gaze shot up and met the figure of a certain strawberry blonde. Lydia Martin's curls bounced, her tone that of a worried and love-stricken ex girlfriend. Her lips formed the name of her once boyfriend, the feeling familiar. Around her, the lights of the field lit up, illuminating everything but the body laying far enough out of sight.

Instead of her usual confident yelling, she held a more submissive, scared tone as a figure stalked towards her. He was feet away, his teeth already craving the feeling of digging into flesh, when another figure ran towards them, begging her to run. Stiles felt helpless, his legs not carrying him fast enough to save the girl who'd already become a victim of the alpha wolf. All he could do was beg for her life, his face a mere foot from the murderous beast.

The boy's voice was shaking as he negotiated with the oldest living Hale. He wanted nothing more than to wake up and realize this all was a bizarre, terrifying nightmares. To be comforted by the knowledge that werewolves were a mere creature of fantasies. They weren't, though. All of the fear and agony he felt proved that.

Marlowe stirred, gaining enough strength to reach for the tear in her pale blue dress. She felt around for the bite marks, only feeling two, and pulled herself in a sit, leaning on a pole. There was a yell, a man hovering above a broken girls body and a boy with his head hung low. She winced, her eyes flashing the pile of blood and seeing nothing but broken shards of glass, a bleeding cut, and two arguing people.

          As the pain she felt subsided, falling to a faint simmer, she shuffled further back into the shadow. She knew, in that moment, what she was becoming. She would've known even if the man didn't whisper the words into her ear before he sealed her fate. Soon, her eyes would flicker golden and she would be able to hear sounds from unfathomable distances. Marlowe was becoming a beast and she knew exactly who to get help from.

Derek Hale wasn't human and Marlowe knew that. She'd known since he appeared at the sidelines of a lacrosse game, watching the boy whose talents appeared seemingly overnight. Now, two days after being in agony, bleeding out on a field, she was in the stupid old subway and reciting the mantra he repeated to her countless times. He also mentioned Scott McCall's methods of control, to anchor yourself. So, getting riled up by the only person she was willing to trust, she focused on his breathing, the way his feet paced the concrete.

          It took everything in her not to shift into the monster she was so desperately afraid of before she began mumbling the words again, letting her tongue roll around their syllables.

          "Alpha... Beta... Omega," she whispered, her voice getting caught in the air of the dusty station. They did nothing, her nails extending into claws and teeth aching for blood. She repeated them again, her throat tightening and words coming out in a snarl. Finally, as if a spell had been lifted, the words took over. Her claws were retracted and she could finally speak again without her words being slurred by fangs.

Her teacher looked at her, his mouth pulled into a smile. "Yes, good. Marlowe, focus on the way the words feel and what they mean. Use them against the anger." She did, her own mind breaking out in a battle, the anger slashing at the little voice that whispered the mantra. "When you're angry and trying to hold it at bay, you're gonna have to use a lot of energy. You may not be physically fighting but there is a battle happening in your head. It's okay to be tired."

          His hand reached down to grab hers, hauling her up off the concrete. Before she could even fully regain her composure, he sent a punch straight to her gut, knocking the breath from her lungs. "What- what the hell?" she gasped, her stomach burning.

"Now that you've learned control, you need to learn how to fight." He sent another fist tumbling towards her but she quickly ducked, missing it by a hair.

She huffed, "Why? I'm a werewolf, for God's sake. I'm pretty sure that's good enough in Beacon Hills." Landing on her back, the outcome of one swift kick to her knees, Marley snarled and jumped back up. Every bit of pain that she felt stung, sticking to her bones and making them shiver. It was an awful feeling but she welcomed it, wanting to feel hurt.

          Derek grabbed her forearm, swinging her around and holding her wrist between shoulder blades. "There are hunters out there. Hunters who will try to kill you at any cost and you need to be prepared. Plus, Scott McCall doesn't seem too fond of me at the moment." He twisted, sending a sharp feeling into her shoulder. "Fight back, Marlowe. You need to fight back."

          But she didn't. She just took in all the hits, letting her new alpha punch her like a punching bag. This angered him, making his eyes light up and claws grow from his fingertips. "Fine. If you wanna take the punches, take them. But I doubt you'll like this." He slashed at her stomach, sending pain like no other through her nerves. Blood pulled around the hands that cupped her torso, crimson leaking through the cracks of her fingers.

          As soon as the gashes were gone, leaving behind the searing feeling as a reminder of what Derek was capable of, she gave in to the urge to kick his ass. Her fist swung, meeting nothing but wind, and she just grew even more frustrated. Dodging a few of the hits he sent her way, Mar landed one to his throat, sending the man stumbling back. His eyes were ablaze, sheer anger shining through. She sent a kick to his stomach and relished in the power she held as a werewolf.

          Her moment was short-lived, though, as he came charging at her with double the force. His punch sent her flying into the wall, her skull smacking it with a sickening crack. Everything blurred, her eyelids heavy and head pounding. It took a few moments for things to clear up, Derek waiting patiently with his arms crossed in front of her. He didn't even seem fazed, almost like he knew what he was trying to do before he even did it.

          "What the hell, Derek," Marlowe growled. "I could've seriously gotten hurt!" She lifted herself onto her knees, leaning against the wall that probably gave her a concussion.

          "And you would've healed. Marley, this is how we train. We go to the furthest possible lengths to make sure we can handle the hunters being thrown at us." He crouched in front of her, his eyes back to their natural green. "I need to make sure you can fend for yourself when I'm not around. And I'm sorry for throwing you that hard."

          She scoffed, playfully pushed him so that he fell from his feet. He smiled, something that Derek Hale rarely ever did, and helped his new beta to her feet. They kept training, the older wolf winning every mini-battle, until their legs felt like jelly and they could barely even throw a proper punch. Well, more like she could barely even throw a proper punch.

As if the thought had been simmering in her mind for hours, Marlowe sighed. "Hey, Derek." he looked to her, his eyebrows raised, and she continued, "Um, I just wanted to say thanks. For, uh, taking me in." Her soft, hesitant words made the grown, broody man's chest feel full. The small girl reminded him of his younger sister.

He knew they were difficult for her to say, her body practically aching as the words left her lips, and he looked at the girl who he'd began to see as a little sister. "Of course, Mar."

author's note

ok, so i'm reading this like months after i wrote
it and i'm lowkey proud of myself because this
shit is good bro

let's have a round of applause for younger me, who
might be a better author than now me ngl