Unwilling - 11. All good things...

~*Jared*~

Training with Hector was never consistent. On some days, Jared got home in the afternoon. On other days, he barely made it home for dinner. Unfortunately, his exhaustion always was the same, since training only ended when Jared couldn't go on. He always went straight home, trying not to fall asleep at the wheel, dragging himself into the house and all but dropping dead as soon as he reached the bed.

It put a strain on his relationship with Darwin, Jared knew that. The amount of social contact between them usually was limited to a tired 'hello' in the mornings and evenings, maybe some cuddling, given Jared woke long enough when Darwin joined him in bed, but nothing more. Still, Jared had thought Darwin understood how important this was. How essential it was to find a weapon against Carl, and not just for himself, or some trumped-up epic victory over an adversary. As he blearily watched Darwin trot towards the cabin through the darkness, Jared felt nothing but tired, helpless rage.

Darla was the first to reach the door, so he grabbed her by the collar of her blouse as soon as she stepped over the threshold. "What the fuck, Darla!" he bellowed, shaking her like a rag doll, happy she would take the brunt of his rage before he had to face Darwin. He would never use force like this on him, but he felt he had to do it to someone, lest there be dire consequences.

At first, her face was a mask of surprise, but it quickly twisted into an expression of barely contained anger. Jared felt a twitch in his cheek, just a split second before Darla made the first move to get him off of her. This would get ugly if he didn't get a grip on himself, and he didn't need to read her aura to realize that.

"Get off of me!" she barked, then started to struggle.

As soon as she began the motion to raise her hand in an attempt to grab his arm, he shoved her back and let her go, making her stumble and fight for balance. Jared could see in her eyes that she knew he could beat her in a fight, but there was also that ever-burning rage Darla couldn't seem to let go. If he didn't get a grip on himself, she would snap, and they would have to fight. And he would have to kill her at some point.

Responsibility sucked.

For a few labored breaths they both stood there, tense and ready to fight, eyes fixated at each other, waiting for that small sign of weakness that would give one or the other a chance to get the drop on their opponent. In that breathless, heavy moment, Darwin strode in through the door.

He froze as soon as he got a whiff of the tension between them, making a face like the proverbial deer in the headlights. Unfortunately, it also gave Jared's rage a new target.

"What's going on?" Darwin asked, his voice tight with sudden tension.

Jared turned abruptly, shoulders and arms coiled with the need to hit something. "Where the FUCK have you been?" he bellowed, loud enough to make the pipe framing of the clothes hanger next to Darwin vibrate and sing with the echo.

Darwin stumbled backward and out the way he had come, almost missing the stairs while backing away from the seething Alpha. His heart beat loud and hard enough to fill the night with its rhythm, enticing Jared to stalk after him. "C-Calling my dad, f-from the phone booth," Darwin stuttered, fighting to breathe, talk and look nonthreatening at the same time. It wasn't a very successful effort.

A mixture of surprise and cold dread washed over Jared's exhausted face. Darwin had called home? On a land line? "Please tell me you're joking," he croaked, coiling his hand around the banister next to the stairs with more force than necessary. The wood groaned beneath his fingers.

"My d-dad wouldn't rat us out, Jared," Darwin stuttered, unable to meet the Alpha's eyes. "He knows everything now, he's promised to help us! He's on our side!"

The world crumbled around Jared, pushing him out of balance and forcing him to lean on the cracking banister. He knew Darwin hadn't meant any harm by what he had done, but that didn't matter. Wouldn't matter, if the Banes Pack Alpha wasn't a total moron. Crazy people didn't get to the top of the food chain by being morons, they got there by being ingenious. The need to beat the shit out of Darwin for endangering himself and his pack buckled beneath the weight of fear for their lives, sending Jared in a confused tailspin. What should he do? What could he do? How long did they have?

Jared turned around, exhaustedly trying to sort through his muddled thoughts. "Darla, assemble the others, we gotta leave," he growled, walking back into the cabin. They would have to take the food, pack their clothes and leave as quickly as possible, maybe go to Canada and find a safe place there until Jared finished his training with Hector. But was that even an option anymore? Hector needed to be warned about Carl and the force of dominants on their way to Renton right this minute, and Hector wouldn't be pleased. A whole other pack with no submissives, invading the territory of an already established pack and all but inviting Hector’s Alpha pack to join the fight definitely broke the truce Jared had negotiated, especially if he ran instead of fighting back. But fighting back with only two dominants by his side would be suicide. No, running was the only choice left.

"Rayne, tell Harry to pack all the food and drinks and stuff everything else useful into the car. Carl has been warned and is on his way," Jared barked as soon as he was inside the cabin.

In the chaos erupting after that order, nobody noticed the lone figure outside turning and walking into the dark woods.

~*George*~

They came at night, long after Mary had gone to sleep. Three figures in dark clothing crept out of the surrounding woods, circling the house just as careful as they would have been with any other pack member, trying to find a good spot to enter unnoticed. George was almost proud to be treated this way, like a real person, like a dangerous person. Almost. Killing pack members, even those who were intent on doing the same to him, certainly didn't count as a happy occasion.

Carmen had never shown for their secret meeting, but she had called Mary and explained that she had been ordered to guard the pack house and would come by the next day. It had been what had tipped George off. There was no reason to have a teenage girl guard the pack house, except if they had found out about Darwin, his whereabouts, and the contact he had made with George.

Now George sat in the shadow next to the stairs, his hunting rifle slung awkwardly over his shoulders, the left hand trifling with all the little bumps and ridges along the shaft and muzzle, waiting. He didn't know what exactly he was waiting for-- to see who was ready to kill a cripple, or to pull one over their heads--, but the decision had been made. If he was to die, he would go down shooting, fighting, with bared teeth and claws, like the enforcer he was. Had been. Had never stopped being.

It took them a good while to find the window in the kitchen, the one George had left unlocked just in case someone came to kill him, but they took the bait. The soft crunch of sugar grains beneath hard boots wouldn't be heard upstairs, not even with werewolf hearing, but it echoed well enough for George to hear from his hiding spot. He carefully cocked the rifle, feeling clumsier than usual with just his left arm in working order, but the intruders were slow, careful, unhurried. They didn't want him and Mary to hear them coming, kill them in their sleep and be done with the whole affair.

It was a good plan, in theory.

George wasn't mobile enough to use the viewfinder to its full extent, but the years of hunting had left him with enough knowledge to forgo the proper targeting and still hit what he wanted to hit. He softly set the lower half of the barrel onto the banister, put his finger on the trigger and waited, listening to the muted, all but inaudible sounds of movement from the kitchen.

Whiffs of all those familiar scents wafted into the stair well, tugging at his heart and lungs with all those memories he associated with them. Greta and Dennis were the ones George could identify, which didn't surprise him. Those two had always been more unhinged than the others, easier to rile up, more ready to go overboard and cross lines. Had George been the one planning the assassination attempt, he would have gone with those two, too. The third one wasn't as easy. Before the phone call with Darwin, George would have put his money on Rayne as the balancing force to Greta's and Dennis' anger issues, but Rayne had proven loyal and wasn't anywhere near Banes. This left George with too many choices, and too little chances to find out who he was dealing with.

Whoever it was, he'd die just as easily as Greta and Dennis. Silver bullets would see to that.

One of the three crept towards the living room, away from the door frame George was targeting and into an area that would sooner or later put him at George's right side. It was the one thing he had hoped to avoid, since he didn't see any chance to point the rifle in that direction without the use of his right arm. The other two were more accommodating, walking towards the area George was actually pointing the muzzle at, but one of them stopped right in the door, his back turned towards George, blocking the line of sight on the third person.

"Gotcha," George hissed. The first shot thundered through the house before Dennis could turn around completely, spraying the wooden door frame with dark blood and sending him to the floor gasping.

"Shit! Dennis!" he could hear Greta scream. George tightened his grip on the weapon, moving the barrel until it pointed down at the dying man, smiling a cold, lopsided smile against the wooden shoulder piece.

Greta came into view, trying to grab Dennis and pull him out of the killing zone, only to be hit by the second, deafening shot. She crumpled onto Dennis' body with nothing more than a gurgling sigh, instantly killed by the gaping hole through her head.

Then there was only silence, mixed with the heavy dripping of blood on the hardwood floor. George carefully moved the barrel up and to the right corner of the door frame, hoping for a glimpse of the third man when-- if-- he came to rescue his mates. Somewhere above, he could hear Mary get dressed as quickly and silently as possible.

A blade touched his throat, freezing him on the spot.

"They thought you were a drooling idiot, you know?" Graham whispered, looming over George's wheelchair like a vengeful shadow. "Thought the job was shameful, killing a cripple in his bed and all that, but that's what you get for being arrogant."

Graham was the one choice person George would have never guessed as the third killer. It was all but unthinkable, imagining the quiet, reclusive car mechanic as anything but a watchful spectator of the pack goings-on, but here he was, blade in hand, ready to do what Carl couldn't do: Kill him.

"So you're the one to finish me off? Are you not yet tired of doing the dirty work for a madman, Graham?" George said, careful to keep his voice even and low.

Graham laughed softly. It was the first time George had ever heard the man laugh at all, and even now it sounded sad and dry. "What else is there to do? What else is left? If I do it, I won't be able to look at myself ever again, but if I don't do it, I won't be able to look at anything ever again, being dead and all," he mused, pressing the blade tighter to George's throat, just tight enough to pull a little blood. "Carl has killed everyone who stood in his way, except for you and Darwin. And here I am, fixing half of that shortcoming. The only thing I'd get out of switching sides is my own death."

Somewhere outside, the wind rattled the window shutters. George allowed himself a small smile, choosing his words carefully. "You could find out if what Carl told you is the truth. You could ask why Carl is trying to kill me. You could even talk to Carmen, if you don't trust my words, but don't you butter me up with this fatalistic crap, Graham. There's always a choice, always."

Graham hesitated, the blade shivered away from George's throat. It wasn't much and George definitely wasn't out of danger, but the metal didn't cut into him anymore. "What truth, George? That Carl's idealistic dream of a pack without submissives won't work? I know that already. I'll be a cloud of dust on the horizon as soon as I see my opening, but right now, everyone disappearing or trying to run is marked a traitor and hunted down. I've got a wife and a kid on the way two towns over, I won't risk them."

The kitchen window creaked softly, just like it had when the three had broken into his house, but George had other things to worry about. There were no known werewolves living in the perimeter of Banes, which meant that Graham had married a human and not told anyone. A human wife, pregnant as it seemed, and therefor a good victim for Carl's blackmailing attempts. He had to think quickly now.

"So you don't ever wonder where all our submissives have gone? Do you really believe they just decided to leave their spouses, fathers, mothers, brothers, kids, just like that? All of them?" George pressed, trying to keep his eyes off the kitchen door as to not arouse any suspicions. "Don't you wonder what happened to Giselle? Or why Darwin rather left the pack than deal with Carl any longer?"

"Stop it with the riddles, old man, I'm getting tired of this conversation. Say your piece and let's end this," Graham snarled, and the pressure of the razor sharp blade to George's throat returned. What little time George had left, it was running out quickly.

Well, Graham had asked for it, hadn't he?

"Carl killed all the submissives, including his pregnant wife, my wife, my mother, Giselle and who knows how many others, and he tried to kill Darwin too. Darwin didn't just change loyalties to some stranger, that stranger saved him from Carl's attempted murder, and Carl was the one who left them no choice but to run. And now, Carl is starting to kill off dissidents, like me. Do you really think he'll stop when he's done with my family? Do you really believe he'll simmer down after this, this killing spree?--"

There were so many more things George would have liked to say, but couldn't, as Mary chose that exact moment to jump Graham from behind and wrestle his knife-bearing arm away from him.

They tumbled towards the front door, snarling and growling at each other as both tried to gain the upper hand. Graham would have won, sooner or later, as superhuman strength ceased to matter and physical proportions came into play, but George didn't plan on letting this go that far. He pointed the rifle and shot, blasting a fist-sized hole into his front door, right above their heads. "That's enough!"

Shocked, frozen silence was the answer. Mary had Graham by the throat, kneeling on his back and ready to end his life with a single tug. George could feel a trickle of blood run down his throat where the knife had left its mark. This was heading towards a bad path.

"I don't want you dead, Graham, you're a good guy," George said, trying to ignore the increasing pain in his straining arm and the tickling of blood drops falling on his chest. "But I've got to help my boy and that means stopping Carl, whatever it takes. I can't trust you not to interfere, can I?"

By now, Graham face was turning half white with fear and half red with exertion. He tried to wiggle beneath Mary's much smaller bulk to find a position that made it easier to breathe, but her tightening grasp around his throat was enough to freeze him. George really didn't want to kill the man, or rather, have Mary kill him. Graham was lethargic and quiet, but when he decided to talk his words always had merit to them, a calm, objective view that most other werewolves in the Banes pack lacked. Losing him meant losing another voice of reason, something else the Banes pack didn't have much of.

But what other way was there?

"We could take him with us, hide somewhere," Mary offered tensely. She had to use her whole body to keep Graham down and even that wouldn't work forever. Time was running through their fingers.

"No! If I disappear, Carl will know something's off," Graham protested, bucking against her weight until she squeezed the will to fight out of him.

"And we should care why, exactly? You came here to kill us," Mary hissed.

George fought to keep the rifle pointed at Graham, but his strength was fading quickly. Mary was right, of course. He shouldn't care less what happened to Graham. It would be better to simply kill him and be done with it, to spare him the torture of seeing his wife and unborn child get killed and to keep him from blabbing where they were headed, but his finger just wouldn't pull the trigger.

"I really don't want to kill you, but we have limited choices right now," he finally said. "Mary could kill you right now so the others can find your body. Your wife would be safe until her child reaches puberty and rips her to shreds. We could tie you up and hope the pack won't come looking for you until we're far enough away, or we could simply come to an agreement. You hide the bodies of Dennis and Greta, go back and tell Carl that you finished us off, we disappear. And Carl will be dealt with on another day."

Mary loosened her grip on Graham's throat just enough to have him answer. Graham gasped for air, each breath a painful rattle. When he finally calmed down, he relaxed beneath Mary's grip, resting his cheek on the wooden floor.

"What exactly do you have in mind?" he croaked.

~*Darwin*~

It was better this way. At least that was what Darwin told himself as he stumbled through the underbrush surrounding their impromptu territory, away from the cabin and the fight he had caused. Darla had already told him her intentions to leave and Rayne and Harry would make a run for it, too, sooner or later. He had ruined all of their lives, ripped them out of their homes, taken their futures and dumped them in the deepest hinterlands, just to keep himself safe. And what had they gained in return? Nothing but heartbreak. Even Jared was losing his calm and that was something Darwin definitely couldn't deal with. Being hated by his mate woke a special kind of pain in him, one he would do almost anything to stop.

Darkness had all but swallowed the woods, making it hard to find a path through the trees and bushes. Darwin stumbled a few times, scratched his arms in a thorn thicket, bumped his shoulder against a fir tree and almost rolled down a steep incline that suddenly appeared in his way, but none of that could dampen his resolve to get as far away from his friends as possible. The cold air hurt his lungs and threatened to seep into his body, but Renton couldn't be that far anymore, and with it he'd find a way to keep warm and move faster.

Of course the others would try to find him, at first. They were good, loyal friends, after all. But they would get over it, over him. They'd see that life was better without him, without the burden he was, and they'd start living their own lives again.

A tree branch slapped his face, snapping back as if to chastise him and leaving a fiery trail burning across his cheek. The pain was enough to lose a few tears over, which in turn blinded Darwin even more and finally made him stumble and fall face-first into a ditch filled with fist-sized rocks and a generous, cushioning sheet of old leaves.

It made the tears only fall harder. With a big sob, Darwin curled into a ball of misery, buried his face in the crook of his arm and cried his heart out. All the fear, the pain, the misery he had been feeling for weeks, finally broke out of him and washed over his mind like a wave, until there was nothing left to fuel the breakdown.

When Darwin finally came up for air, his eyes were puffy and reddened, his nose swollen and his mouth dry, but at least he felt a little calmer, a little more collected. The breakdown hadn't changed his mind about what he was doing, but it had taken away the urgency, leaving him with renewed determination. Sniffing, he got back on his feet, brushed away a few leaves and sticks, and started running again.

By now, the others had probably realized he was missing and were starting to look for him. Jared would have to make a decision; either have the pack look for Darwin and risk all their lives, or relocate them and then go look for him. Right now, Darwin wasn't sure which way Jared would rather choose, so he kept going at as fast a pace as he was able to, just in case they were already on his heels.

The way down the woody hills took some time, but the walking kept Darwin warm. When he finally reached the outskirts of Renton, it was the middle of the night and the streets were empty, houses dark and nobody to be found. Darwin walked around for a bit, trying to decide which direction best to take and getting colder and colder with the lack of exertion, when he finally found a roadhouse on the outskirts of the town. Light was shining through the dirty windows and he could hear country music playing, mixed with shouts and laughter. A half dozen trucks and pickups were parked in front of it.

Darwin eyed the run-down building suspiciously. Two sides were covered with wooden sidings that had seen better days in the last century, the other sides were either painted in a steel-blue color, or dirty enough to cover the original paint job from top to bottom. The windows were dusted with road dirt and probably nicotine stains, and garbage towered around a waste bin at the left side in an impressive heap of broken glass and left-overs. The smell of stale beer and spilled gasoline hung heavy in the air, even at night and in the cold. In the day, the stench was probably bad enough to burn off his nose hairs.

Hitchhiking was a dangerous business and something Darwin would have never tried under normal circumstances. Unfortunately, right now it seemed like his best choice to get away and he still had his werewolf strength if anyone got frisky with him. It was worth the risk. And it was worth going into that dump and getting smoked like a ham, if that meant hitching a ride.

Darwin pulled up the hood of his hoodie, trying to hide as much of his looks as possible beneath the cheap clothing, then marched towards the entrance. The stench got worse with each step, until the only way to cope with it was not using his nose at all and panting through the mouth like a dog. At least the door didn't squeak on its hinges as he pulled it open to stumble inside.

Aside from the country music blaring from an ancient jukebox, the scene went just like every western scene Darwin knew from movies. Everyone stopped what they were doing, turned to take a good look at him and kept on glaring as he slowly made his way to the bar. The patrons were basically just like he had expected: dirty, sweaty bikers and truckers with a few women strewn in between, most of them smoking, a few visibly drunk, none of them anywhere near his age. In another way, they weren't at all what Darwin had expected. They were werewolves, a whole pack of them, and the way they watched his every move made it obvious that they had smelled him, too.

"Come on, honey, they won't bite as long as you don't give them a reason to," a female, smoke-rough voice called out from the bar, followed by a few snickers and laughs. Most of the patrons went back to whatever they were doing, but a few eyes still watched him hungrily.

Darwin scuttled towards that voice, throwing careful glances at the woman behind the bar. She looked to be somewhere between forty and fifty-five years old, with curly blond hair and sun-tanned skin, premature wrinkles and more make-up than a woman should feel the need to put on. She was polishing glasses, eying him with a tight smile until their eyes met, then she nodded to one of the bar stools next to her. "Sit there, little one, I'll keep the wolves away."

"Thanks," Darwin mumbled, sliding onto the seat. A glass of Coke all but magically appeared before him and he instinctively grabbed it. He touched the woman's fingers in the process-- they were prickling with energy--, then she pulled back.

"You're a submissive." She sounded mildly surprised, like she had expected him to play some kind of charade with her.

Darwin pulled the glass closer. "And you're a dominant," he replied, taking a sip. The Coke was luke-warm and almost flat, but he drank it anyway.

"Margo," she introduced herself and put the piece of cloth away. As she leaned against the bar, Darwin saw the outer edges of some tattoo on her bosom peek out of her shirt. "So, what's a young sub like you doing in a dump like Renton? You on the run from your pack? Looking for a new home, maybe?"

"Nice to meet you. I'm Darwin," he said, but his mind was already trying to come up with a good, evasive answer to her questions. Although Margo didn't look like someone who'd kidnap him, with the right reasons she'd still try to keep him there. Any dominant would, it was in their genes. "I'm not really on the run, though. Just got a streak of bad luck that stranded me here for tonight, tomorrow I'll try to find a ride south to visit my father's pack." Which was the truth, in a stretchy kind of way.

Margo was already grinning. "I know that name," she said, wagging her finger at Darwin. "You're that kid Pete tried to grab, aren't you? Your pack had him crawl back with his tail tucked between his legs, he's been ranting ever since. And I can see why, you're a pretty one. Oh, don't give me that pouty face. I won't tell him, and I sure as hell won't let him try anything," she added when Darwin made wide eyes at her. "He's had it coming for a long time. Besides, nobody touches my guests. House rules."

Darwin decided in that moment that Margo was a good gal. It had been a while since he had been able to feel comfortable in the presence of a dominant, what with hiding from Carl and all the drama he'd had with Rayne and Darla, but Margo reminded him of his dad before the stroke. Hardened and with a no-nonsense-attitude, that was true, but she also had a maternal calmness about her that made it easy to relax.

As soon as Darwin felt the tears threaten to fall, he quickly looked down at the wooden bar top and took a deep breath to calm down. This was not the right time or place to cry for no good reason.

Nonetheless, his was the perfect place to hide for a while. Nobody would look for him in a local werewolf hideout and if he stayed there for a few days, he'd be able to make sure Jared and the others had left. Chewing at his lips, Darwin took another sideways glance at Margo, who was serving another patron and bantering light-heartedly. A breather, just one or two nights, would be nice.

When Margo came back, Darwin clutched his glass and smiled lopsidedly. "Say, Margo, you wouldn't happen to have a free bed for one or two nights?"

The lady had the most beautiful grin. "Sure thing. You'll have to help me with the cleaning, though."

~*Jared*~

"What do you mean, 'he's gone'?"

Okay, yes, maybe Jared was yelling at the wrong person, but Darla had stomped off right after the fight to help Harry with the packing, which left Rayne as the only target worth yelling at. Add to that the unlucky fact that Rayne had been the bearer of the bad news of Darwin's disappearance, and suddenly it didn't seem all that unreasonable anymore to yell at him. If Jared hadn't been that drained and tired, he probably would have had a better grip on himself, but there wasn't anything he could change now, was there?

Luckily, Rayne didn't bat an eye at the screaming. "Gone as in 'his trail leads downhill and away'. Looks like he's taken off, and before you ask, yes, I checked for other scents or footprints, no, I didn't find anything, yes, I'm sure. He's alone." With those words, Rayne crumbled onto the couch, stretching his long legs in a gesture of exhaustion and wiggling around until he was comfortable. He patted the empty space next to him, threw a glance in the direction Harry's voice was coming from, and sneered. "You'll have to decide if you want to risk all our lives to drag his whiny bitch ass back here, or if you'll do what any other Alpha would do and have us hoof it out of here before the Banes pack arrives. I'd take bets on the outcome of that, but there's nobody here who'd bet against me."

Jared bristled. "What's that supposed to mean?" he snarled, trying his best to stay calm and failing again. His pack had developed an uncanny ability to rile him up lately, and it was starting to get old.

"I'm saying that I already know what you'll decide. There's no way you're going to leave without him, or is there? I mean, I understand how the whole mate thing supposedly works, but you and Darwin are something else. Have you taken a step back to look at what's going on, lately? We're here because of Darwin. Darla especially is here because of Darwin."

Rayne's voice didn't hold any inflection besides boredom and sarcasm, but he put a hand to his face and massaged the bridge of his nose as he continued. "And me? I'm walking on shards of glass, every time I see Harry and can't touch him, but you know what? It's the first time in my life that I'm actually planning a future with someone, instead of just getting off and running for the hills, and that's Darwin too."

Jared gaped at the reclining man for a few confused seconds. He had anticipated criticism, badmouthing, even open rebellion if he considered staying and searching for Darwin. Getting reassured-- well, somewhat reassured--, especially by Rayne, who was never shy to point out Darwin's mistakes and Jared's general shortcomings, was too surreal to process.

He sat down on the recliner heavily. "Are you saying, you think we should stay? Fight?" Jared asked, only to twitch when the door to Harry's bedroom crashed open.

"Of course he thinks we should fight! We've run for long enough, I'm done running!" Harry looked glorious even to Jared, mostly because he had shucked off his shirt and looked all tousled and disheveled from all the rummaging around. He bounced across the room and all but sailed into Rayne's lap, grinning happily at the huff his impact produced.

"So I guess you heard everything?" Rayne wheezed, curling his dark arms around the half-naked submissive. "Eavesdropping is a punishable offense, you know."

"O'course we heard everything, you were yelling half of the time," Darla sneered, stalking into the main room after Harry, looking sour as usual. Jared knew that something just wasn't right with her, but there never seemed to be a good moment to have a talk and Rayne had assured him he had it under control, whatever 'it' was. Right now and as much as he wanted to, Jared couldn't really believe him.

Darla would have to wait, though. Jared looked at the three people who symbolized most of his family, fighting off visions of their bloody demise threatening to overwhelm him. They deserved to know what he was thinking. They deserved to make their own decision, blind trust or not.

"As you all have heard, Darwin ran away after our fight. I don't really know why, but I think all of us are feeling the pressure right now. He called home earlier this evening and we have to assume that the Banes pack surveils Darwin's father, even his phone. Land lines are easily traceable, especially public phones. They probably know where we are by now, which means they will be here soon." He paused, staring down at his fists. They were white with tension. If I die and get reborn as a werewolf, please don't make me an Alpha again, I can't take any more of these hard decisions!

It had to be done. Jared looked up again, meeting Harry's frown with a calm expression. "As much as I would like to run after Darwin, there are bigger things I have to consider. Your safety, for one, our defense, for another, and I have to figure out how we can possibly win this fight and survive. I won't force you to stay, so you are free to leave without any repercussions. I'm sure the local pack will be more than happy to house you for a while and until this has blown over."

Silence settled over the group. Rayne kept petting Harry, who seemed more than happy to stay glued to him. Darla crossed her arms in front of her chest, cocking an eyebrow as if to say 'what?', but nobody made a move towards the door.

Jared sighed and closed his eyes to hide his relief. As much as he hated to admit it, losing his pack would have been a worse fate than dying at Carl's hands. "Okay, then! We're going to split up. Rayne will figure out a way to defend ourselves and find a place where Harry can safely hide, no matter what outcome the fight takes. If Harry falls into Carl's hands, he's dead, so keeping him safe is of utmost importance. If Darwin shows up, same thing goes for him, of course. Darla, you are to track Darwin's scent and make sure he's in a place away from the main road. If you find him, tell him to hide somewhere, but if you don't, knowing that he won't run into the Banes people is enough. Any questions?"

Harry instantly raised his hand. "What are you going to do?" he asked with an uncertain voice and an expression that told the world how surprised he himself was at his newfound candor.

Jared smiled tightly and got up. "I'm going out to find us an army."

~*George*~

After almost twelve hours in the car, George was in a world of pain that had little to do with his fear for Darwin. The farther north they went, the worse the roads got. Each pothole and bump sent shooting pain through his cramping back, hips and knees, and no amount of wiggling and lopsided stretching made a difference. Mary was already trying to dodge the worst spots and had asked multiple times if he wanted to take a break, but George had declined each offer for one single reason: Carl. Carl had too much of a head start to risk stopping, even for a minute. It was a fact Mary understood all too well, but it wasn't enough to convince her to stop worrying about George.

Luckily, they were only two miles away from Renton by now and respite was in sight. It was a small town, that much George had known from what Darwin had told him, but seeing the little heap of houses, George wondered how even a small pack could function there without being found out by the locals.

"There's a roadhouse right over there," Mary said from the driver's seat and pointed to the right. "Let's stop there and get directions to the holiday cabins."

George inspected the dilapidated building with a sad heart. In his youth, places like that had been all the roar with the teens, what with the smoke-filled air, the strangers from other parts of the country and the loud music. The wooden siding alone made him remember so many happy moments from his childhood, the evenings outside, the girls, the laughter, the kisses, the stupid bets, ...

When George looked at the roadhouse now, he couldn't think of anything but a dump. A place that would be bulldozed and swallowed by some food chain sooner rather than later, and the people inside knew it. These days, outsiders were seldom welcome in a place like that, being seen as the first sign of the impending doom.

"I'm not sure they'll be all that welcoming, Mary," George mused, but he didn't stop her when she turned into the parking lot and got out of the car. Welcoming or not, this was the first time he could get out of this seat, stretch and get those cramps out of his limbs without feeling like dead weight.

Mary opened the side door for George, climbed in and readied his wheelchair, muttering about this and that and nothing of importance. The tension she had accumulated over the last few days didn't show so much in her body posture, but in her behavior and tendency to fill silence with chatter. It was one of the things that had endeared her to George from the first day they had met, back when all he had looked for was a nurse to help him become independent again. The silence ruling his house back than had burdened his soul more than his disability.

"You are too pessimistic, my dear," she said, finally finished with her preparations and ready to lift him into the wheelchair. "Nobody on god's green earth would ever be rude to a quadriplegic father looking for his only son. You'll see."

A few bones in George's body cracked as he settled down in the wheelchair, and with those creaks and groans came sweet relief. Even the potholes in the parking lot couldn't lessen George's happiness, and the three bumps it took to get him up the veranda stairs and into the roadhouse were more of a massage than anything else. Mary had a bit of a fight getting him through the entrance, but with a good shove and an angle, they finally popped into the smoke-stale inside.

Right into a surprised pack of hungover werewolves.

The scent was unmistakable, once they were soaked in it, and no amount of stale beer or cold smoke could change that. There weren't that many people in the roadhouse, maybe ten or eleven, but each of them looked at the unusual couple with the cold, appraising hostility reserved for intruders. Had the jukebox not been blaring some seventies-hit, the silence would have been deafening.

"Uhm," George said, trying to think through his racing heartbeat.

One of the older men, a white haired, pot-bellied blue collar type next to the jukebox, turned around in his seat to have a look at George, his wheelchair, and finally Mary. "You're not welcome here," he said in a gravelly, almost bored tone of voice. His eyes told a different story, though. Boredom was the last thing on his mind and the tension in those eyes was enough to make Mary stiffen defensively.

"It's just a pit stop," Mary replied, clenching the handles of George's wheelchair. "We're looking for directions to the Glacier View holiday cabins, nothing more."

A mood change fluttered through the crowd like a breeze through trees, accompanied by rustling clothes and creaking chairs. A few of the patrons were looking towards the bartender underhandedly, a few of them turned their attention elsewhere, but two or three of them now openly stared at Mary.

"You with those runaways?" This time, it was the lady behind the bar who spoke, not bothering to turn her eyes away from the ashtrays she was cleaning. It was obvious she had some kind of pull on the other dominants in her bar, although it couldn't be related to her power. George had years and years of experience with determining someone's level of dominance and that lady certainly couldn't hold herself in a fight against some of the wolves in the room. Which meant, she was either close to their Alpha, or had some other kind of influence that went beyond fights for position, some talent only she could provide.

George waved Mary away from his wheelchair, switched on the little electric motor and guided the chair closer to the bar. It was a subtle gesture, but one the bartender clearly understood. She put the brush and the ashtrays aside and leaned onto the bar, examining him.

"I'm looking for my son, Darwin. He's with the pack residing at the holiday cabins," George said, putting as much effort in clear pronunciation as possible. It was impossible not to slur some words, what with half of his face being numb and paralyzed, but the effort paid off.

"Darwin told me about you. I'm Margo," the bartender said. "Are you going to be trouble for us?"

George blinked at the question. This was the first time in a long time that someone thought him capable of being anything but a sad example, a cripple in need of being taken care of. The way Margo phrased the question almost sounded like she thought of him as a worthy opponent, which he obviously wasn't. It was such underhanded flattery, he almost blushed.

"No trouble. We just have to find him and warn him, and you, as it seems. I didn't know there's a local pack, you know? If we had the time, we would make this intrusion up to you, but we don't. Please, we just need directions, then we'll be out of your hair."

A frown settled on Margo's tanned face, the deep grooves adding another ten years to George's estimate of her age. She was beautiful, for all intent and purpose, a true beauty that was almost ruined by the heap of make-up she wore. Pushing upright, she put her hands on her waist, cocked her head just a little and finally turned, calling out. "Darwin! Your father is here!"

Mary gasped behind George, something he would have liked to do himself but was too shocked to do. Darwin was here? In this run-down dump? Of his own free will? When pounding steps sounded from the stairs leading back and up, George snapped his eyes over there and held his breath.

A whirl of leisure clothes, black hair and the biggest smile George had ever seen on that face came around the corner of the bar area at a break-neck speed, impacting with George's wheelchair and pushing it back a few feet.

"Dad!" Darwin exclaimed, hugging the man fiercely and all but landing on his lap in the process.

"My boy," George sobbed, hugging him back with all the might his broken body offered. Mary sniffed in the background, giving them a moment to themselves.

Only Margo didn't join the reunion enthusiasm. The frown was still in place, her eyes flicked from one front window to the next and she crossed her arms under her impressively average bosom. "So, are your friends going to keep on hovering outside, or are they coming in to join us? Because they surely look pissed off," she observed suspiciously.

Darwin and George tensed synchronously.

"Friends?" Mary mumbled, turning around and having a look at the windows herself. Her hand slapped on George's back rest and suddenly, the stink of fear flooded the room.

"George, it's Carl! He's here!"