The night air outside the Argent estate shattered, not only with the scream of breaking glass, but with the cold thrum of dark magic. Chris Argent, his face set in a grim mask, moved as a blur, his crossbow already cocked, firing a silver-tipped bolt that struck into a dark, ghostly figure forming in the hallway. Gerard, though old, a force to be reckoned with, held an antique sword, its blade shining with a polished sheen, reflecting the sickly, pulsing glow of the Darach's encroaching power. Allison, a shiver of fear and adrenaline coursing through her, followed them instinctively, her fingers tight around the heavy, cold thing her father had shoved into her hand – a **flash bomb**. The Darach's direct attack had started.
The Darach herself was a whirlwind of darkness and distorted power, her shape shifting in the broken moonlight as she attacked with impossible speed, testing the weaknesses of the house. Her voice, a deep, throaty chant that was woven into the very fabric of the night, called out to the Argents, attempting to lure them out, to pin them, to drain their ancient blood into the Nemeton's tainted earth.
Meanwhile, Peter Hale basked in the growing chaos, his senses humming with the smell of fear, blood, and burgeoning supernatural power. He prowled the edges of the Preserve, irresistibly attracted to the Argent property. This was precisely the kind of big diversion he required. Let the Darach bleed her power away, let the hunters wear themselves out, and let Derek, that stupid hothead, wear himself out in a useless fury. Peter would strike when all the pieces were in place, moving in to take control of all of them.
Abruptly, a burst of movement, a flash of raw anger, tore through the ancient trees. **Derek Hale**, fueled by an unholy and unrelenting rage, and an unbreakable desire for vengeance, stormed onto the Argent grounds. He had sensed the violent shift in the power of the Preserve, the flow of power on the estate. His senses were honed to one overwhelming scent: **Peter**. This was it. This was where his uncle would make his stand. Derek did not waver. He tore through the outer fence, his mind fixated only on the presence of the Alpha.
---
Within the troubled manor house, Scott, Stiles, and Damien arrived, attracted by the growing chaos. Scott, his Beta senses ringing a wild alarm, had tracked the smell of danger directly to Allison. His heart pounding, his entire body intent on reaching her.
"Allison!" Scott yelled, his voice hoarse, as she wrestled with a dark shape that was clearly no ordinary mortal, as Chris and Gerard fought against other spectral shapes.
Stiles frantically swept the chaos with his mind racing to accommodate the churning magical energies of the Darach, the screams of brutal fighting, and the sheer terror of the moment. "Okay, okay, new plan! Get Allison! Stop the Darach! And don't get in the middle of whatever *that* is!" He waved a shaking finger in the direction of the foreboding sounds of a brutal, thundering battle further into the courtyard of the estate – the unmistakable sounds of two Alphas attacking each other, a primal scream of fury intermixed with contemptuous laughter.
Damien glided with a near-ethereal elegance through the chaos, his golden eyes scanning the room with clinical detachment. He sensed Peter's evil presence, Derek's deliberate fury, and the Darach's sick, mounting intent. "The Darach is looking for the family in the middle," Damien said, his tone level, but unyielding. "The corruption of the Nemeton is based on their offering. We need to cut her tie from the core ritual."
---
The earth itself shook as **Peter Hale** and **Derek Hale** battled in the courtyard of the Argent estate. Peter, fully, appallingly in his Alpha form, was a maelstrom of muscle and claw, moving fluidly, killing with precision. Derek, with equal ferocity, battled with a feral rage born of years of frustrated hope and the final betrayal. Claws ripped, teeth snapped, and the air shook with raw, unadulterated power. Peter battled with cunning, taking every advantage, a sadistic gleam in his blood-red eyes, while Derek battled with single-minded determination, with an all-consuming goal: to make Peter pay for all.
Peter growled, trying to provoke Derek, landing a crushing blow that sent Derek flying. "Still so sensitive, little wolf? You believe this ends it? I am the Alpha! I rose from the ashes you left me in! You're a pup playing at vengeance!"
Derek snarled, not catching the words, only focused on Peter's throat, pushing himself up, his own injuries closing.
Meanwhile, Scott, catching sight of Allison in direct danger from the Darach's direct magical attack, shifted, his eyes burning gold, his claws lengthening. He attacked the shadowy figure of the Darach, sending her off of Allison, his protective fury blazing.
"Scott!" Allison cried out, stunned but getting herself together. She waved the flash bomb, remembering what her father had told her. "Dad said I was to use this in case things got. bad!"
Peter was momentarily distracted by the sight of Scott defending an Argent from Darach magic and growled. He saw his chance to break Scott's will. "McCall! You fool boy! This isn't your fight! Come to me! I can teach you! I can grant you control, true power, if you will just release this foolishness!" He broke from fighting Derek long enough to strike out, not at his cousin, but at Scott, trying to break the young Beta's will.
Scott confronted Peter's attack, his survival instincts screaming in his head, but his mind clear, free of fear. He would not be manipulated. He would not be culled. He avoided Peter's crushing clawed strike, a new-found quickness in his actions, the years of Peter's fear-gaming finally shattered. He was not Peter's puppet. He was Scott McCall, and he was here to fight.
While Scott bravely kept Peter at a distance, diverting the Alpha's attention with his newfound defiance and quickness, a mighty burst of ancient energy tore through the Darach. Damien, having arrived at the center of her tainted ritual, released a concentrated blast of his dominion, shattering her focus and breaking the dark spell she was casting about the Argents. The Darach howled, her dark shape given over for an instant, her concentration shattered.
This was the crucial opening.
---
The cry of the fight between Peter and Scott echoed through the Argent estate. Chris Argent, having dispatched a dark minion of the Darach with expert professionalism, watched as the two werewolves fought each other. He watched Peter, the bestial Alpha, clearly attempting to overpower the young Beta. He watched his daughter, Allison, stand nearby, still far too vulnerable.
"Allison! Now!" Chris yelled, pointing towards the enormous Alpha.
Allison didn't wait. Adrenaline surged through her, and she ripped out the pin and hurled the **flash bomb** as hard as she could. It exploded at Peter's feet in a burst of eye-searing light and shockwave.
Peter bellowed, his red eyes scorched for a moment by the impossible light, his senses reeling from the blinding crash. He stepped back, dazed, for a moment exposed, a primal scream tearing from his lips. Scott, just as dazed, was coming back faster, his eyes burning but already thinking ahead.
It was in that critical, blinding moment that **Derek Hale** struck.
He had been circling, looking for an opening, a blind spot, for Peter to appear. The flash bomb was the perfect moment. With a velocity that defied the light, Derek came out of the deeper blackness of the estate right behind Peter. Peter, shocked by the explosion, utterly bewildered, never even noticed him approaching.
With a snarl of half-rage, half-hereditary reflex, Derek's claws cut across Peter's throat in one swift, brutal stroke. The result was complete, deadly.
Peter's eyes widened, a gurgling sound passing his lips as his own blood foamed up, spattering hot on Derek's face. He staggered, his huge body shaking. The evil red light in his eyes flared, flickered, and then, with one last shuddering gasp, died away to a dull grey. He collapsed to the floor, dead.
As Peter Hale's body fell to the ground, a corporeal, crackling surge of **raw, red Alpha energy** burst forth from his dead body, a bright red cloud that whirled for an instant before quickly condensing, pouring in a straight line into Derek Hale.
Derek towered over Peter's body, his chest heaving, his body absorbing the phenomenal power. When the Alpha power poured over him, his muscles clenched, his bones shifted, and his eyes, already red, flared to an impossibly bright, incandescent red. He flung back his head and unleashed a low, thunderous roar that shook the Preserve, a roar of triumph, of loss, of terrible, unbridled power.
He was the Alpha. The Darach, her ritual smashed by the power and sheer, brute strength of the Alpha transfer, let out one last, anguished scream and was no more, her scheme for the Nemeton thwarted, at least for the moment. Silence fell over the Argent estate, heavy and absolute, broken only by the raw gasps of the survivors. Scott gazed at Derek, the new Alpha, and then at the lifeless form of Peter. Peter's fear shifted to amazement at Derek, and to a complex understanding of the brutal world they were now living in. The struggle for the pack was done. But a new world, a new Alpha, and new dangers, had started. ---