CHPT 49: Natural and Supernatural, All Under the Same Moon....

Marco spoke with his meager makings of a Pride about the storm that was brewing on the edges of Beacon Hills for the rest of the time they spent inside the Warehouse. He wanted them awake-- aware, of what they didn't yet know. Deaton was inhumanely tight lipped about the specifics. That pissed him off. It had differing effects on the others.

Erica seemed more interested in her nails. He'd just given her the silver painting-- she seemed to see it as a style choice more than a means of damage to those like her. Figures.

Boyd was scared. For someone so large, fear held him even more so than earths gravity.

Victoria fell into her own mind. She was thinking-- something hard to manage so close to a Full Moon. So, Marco did what nobody would, maybe it would stop her from thinking herself back into her Argent extremist ways. Maybe it would make her respect him more.....

His two betas still couldn't believe it as they ran through the forest. Luckily, Victoria didn't struggle to keep up, then again, they weren't going their fastest. She was though. Naturally. She had all the reason in the world. As she said only hours ago, she'd do anything to get back to where they were headed.

"You want to return her home..... this close to a Full Moon? Do you have bipolar disorder? If so, let's bring back Blue Eyes. I don't think he'd do this. He didn't do this to us." Erica said as she swung from the trees like a golden-haired cat eyed ape in the night.

"I'm not you, Erica." Victoria snarled from the back of the group as her bare feet stomped through the dead leaves and rising grass.

"Marco!" Erica hissed as if begging for his support and ear all at the same time.

Marco shoulder charged the tree Erica landed on the branches off, his massive frame blew a chunk out of it and shook the branches with a quaking intensity that made her hiss as she almost fell. Upon recovering she looked down at him to find his eyes flash between yellow blue and red. It was both nauseating and terrifying to see, almost making her fall.

"It's all me-- and she isn't you.... or you." Marco said as Boyd ran beside him. His face remained grim. He wasn't a talker, one thing Marco liked about him.

"You follow me! Act like it, and I'll keep you both alive as I always have." Marco finished as the golden glow beginning to spiral along his dreads faded back to black.

They traveled in silence for a while after, listening to the cars rocketing down the highway miles away. Slow heavy machines that reeked of oils and toxic paints. A perfect representation of their disconnection from the earth with the way they rolled over it all like dead tumbleweeds. In between it all they could hear dogs howling as Sirens roared and hawks screeched into the night.

It was almost peac--

"Did you say you'll always protect us, Marco?" Erica asked, all previous offense and anger disappeared with the return of her flirty tone.

"Oh for fucks sake...."

Erica giggled, "I love you two dreadhead!"

She yelled it into the night as if they were the only people in the world. As if they didn't just survive a war with an ancient kabal of magical Hunters known to swallow and expand previous hunting organizations. As if they weren't delivering a newly changed Grey Lion back to her home of Hunters a day before the full moon.

Strange times...

Even stranger how time flew after. They made it into Beacon Hills on good time and good spirits from the run. For most of them at least. It didn't take much longer after to reach the Argent family home. Unsuspecting and large like the rest of the homes in the quiet and inconspicuous neighborhood. Unsuspecting to humans that is.

Marco could easily smell the gunpowder, leathers and dead shapeshifter on the coats of old clothes inside. The place was loaded full of weaponry and shapeshifter downfall. Home sweet home.

They traveled through the backyards, since it would be odd to see a trio of large well-muscled teens escorting a barefoot and heavy breathing older woman in the dark of night.

Once they were in the home's backyard, Marco could smell Alison. He could feel her pain radiating throughout the house like black smoke-- darkening it. Weakening the life surrounding it.

Mourning was a phenomenon known across life. Not all of it, but enough. It was universal to the ones that knew it. A language not requiring an interpreter. A language lasting since the beginning of gods.... man and beasts.

Marco dropped down to a squat and placed his hands into the overgrown unchecked grass. The blades rubbed against his skin as the winds blew and tickled the hairs on his knuckles. Like the world was speaking to him. Whispering secrets of what it witnessed upon it's grounds.

The others watched as he inhaled-- seemingly the whole area followed along, with the winds deepening and the grass beginning to reach for him.

His veins went black as midnight, traveling up his arm touching the ground. Marco grunted as he soaked up the pain in the area until there was barely any left.

When he stood back up he found the others staring.

"She thinks she lost her mom, I've felt something similar..... I survived it. This is nothing in comparison." Marco's veins retained their normal coloring and he exhaled.

Victoria looked from him to the house.

"Don't forget who's team you're on. Remember what's coming. I'll see you tomorrow." Marco told her before motioning for her to go.

Victoria nodded in understanding before heading towards the home. As she did so, Marco pulled out his phone and texted Alison.

Slowly, the lights in the house began to flick on as Alison ripped her way through the house in search of her mother.

They stood in the shadows watching, listening.

"I thought we could only take the pain of living things..." Boyd explained. "Like cats... and people."

Marco nodded, "The Argents over time limited and shrunk the Werewolves potential through half-truths and lies sewn over time. They've tightened with each generation until those lies became truth. The sad excuse of their wolf forms..... human morality directing our shift... absolute Silver Weakness ..... a simple exchange of memories through claw connection and nothing else. They've minimized the scope of what we can do over time here in the north. Full Synthesis is the natural state of Shape-Shifters. And it's more than just your true physical form."

"So we could learn to do that?" Boyd questioned.

"I don't think I want to take anyone's pain-- much less an entire area." Erica said casually as Alison wept into her mothers arms inside.

"You'll have to. It's the only way to claim an area." Marco replied.

And with that, they left the Argent household, now more Marco's home than even Chris'.....