Teen Wolf: Sun Hill Pack

—(Markus)—

When I came back to reality, I felt disoriented. My head was heavy, and my body felt like it had been wrung out. Blinking a few times, I noticed Michael sitting at the edge of the bed, his expression unreadable.

"You remember anything that happened when you first woke up today?" he asked, his tone neutral but edged with curiosity.

"Falling," I said, my voice raspier than I expected.

"Yeah, that did happen," he said, nodding slightly. "But you also might have had a flashback of that night. It triggered a panic state."

"Oh," was all I could manage. My throat felt dry, and the weight of his words hung in the air.

"This might be something you'll have to deal with for a while—maybe even your whole life," Michael said, his tone softening.

"Hm." I didn't know how to respond to that. What was there to say?

He studied me for a moment, then sighed. "Look, no one's expecting you to figure this out overnight. But ignoring it won't make it go away. You're going to need to learn how to manage it."

"Manage it?" I scoffed. "Like what, just… breathe my way out of seeing monsters?"

His lips quirked into the faintest of smiles. "Something like that. And it's not just the breathing—it's recognizing what's real and what isn't. Your brain's playing tricks on you, but you've got to remind yourself you're in control now. Not the past."

I didn't say anything, my fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket.

Michael leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You've been through hell, Markus. No one's pretending otherwise. But the question is, are you going to let it control you, or are you going to fight back?"

The room fell silent for a moment, his words echoing in my head. Fight back. I wasn't sure I had it in me, but the alternative wasn't exactly appealing.

Before I could respond, there was a knock on the doorframe. Calvin stood there, looking hesitant. "Hey, I just wanted to check in," he said, glancing between Michael and me.

Michael nodded at him, then stood. "I'll leave you two to talk." He gave me a final look before walking out of the room, his footsteps fading down the hallway.

Calvin stepped inside, leaning against the wall. "How are you feeling?"

"Like crap," I admitted, my voice flat.

He chuckled softly. "Well, at least you're honest." He paused, then added, "Look, about earlier… I'm sorry if I pushed you too hard. I wasn't trying to freak you out."

I looked up at him, studying his face. He seemed genuine, and for once, I didn't feel like snapping back. "It wasn't your fault," I said quietly.

His eyebrows rose slightly in surprise, but he didn't comment. Instead, he sat down in the chair by the bed. "I don't know much about what you're going through, but… if you need someone to talk to, I'm here. No judgment."

For a moment, I didn't respond. The words hung between us, heavy but not uncomfortable.

"I'll keep that in mind," I finally said.

Calvin nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Good. Now, you should rest. You've had enough excitement for one day."

As he stood to leave, I felt a flicker of something unfamiliar—gratitude, maybe. I wasn't ready to let anyone in, not fully, but it was nice to know that if I did, someone might be there.

For now, though, I let the quiet settle over me, closing my eyes and trying to focus on Michael's words. Fight back. Maybe, just maybe, I could figure out how to.

Later that evening, I was staring blankly at the ceiling when I heard the door creak open. Michael walked in, his usual air of authority toned down, his expression more approachable. He carried a small tray with a plate of food and set it down on the nightstand before sitting in the chair Calvin had used earlier.

"You didn't touch your breakfast earlier," he said, nodding toward the untouched plate.

I shrugged. "Wasn't hungry."

"Well, you'll need your strength," he replied, leaning back in the chair. "And not just for your recovery. You'll need it to understand how things work around here."

I turned my head slightly to look at him. "What do you mean?"

Michael folded his arms, his gaze steady. "You're part of a pack now, Markus. And while it might sound simple, it's not. Packs aren't just a group of werewolves running through the woods and howling at the moon. It's a community—a hierarchy. Everyone has their role, their place. And not everyone in the pack is a werewolf."

That caught me off guard. "What do you mean, not everyone? Isn't that… kind of the whole point of a pack?"

Michael smirked faintly. "You'd think so, but no. Werewolves sometimes give birth to human children. It's rare, but it happens. Humans, by supernatural standards, are considered weak, and in some communities, they're abandoned or treated as outcasts."

I frowned, the thought hitting uncomfortably close to home. "That's… messed up."

Michael's smirk disappeared, replaced by a more serious expression. "It is. But our pack doesn't work like that. Humans are part of our family, just as much as the wolves. They may not have claws or fangs, but they bring other strengths. Loyalty, intelligence, skills that we sometimes overlook in our own arrogance."

"So… what's the hierarchy?" I asked cautiously, unsure if I wanted to know where I fit into all of this.

Michael leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "At the top is the Alpha—that's me. The Alpha is the leader, responsible for the safety and stability of the pack. Below me is the Beta. Calvin's training for that role, though he hasn't fully stepped into it yet. Betas are second in command, helping to enforce order and handle disputes."

I nodded slowly, trying to absorb it all. "And then there's… everyone else?"

"Not exactly," Michael said. "There are other roles. Some wolves are enforcers—they handle threats and protect the pack from outside dangers. Others specialize in different areas, like gathering information or managing pack relations with other groups in the supernatural community. And then there are the humans. They might not have a specific rank, but they're vital to the pack's survival."

I couldn't help but feel skeptical. "So humans are just… along for the ride?"

Michael shook his head. "Not at all. Humans often provide balance. They keep us grounded when the wolf inside wants to take over. They see things we sometimes miss. But the supernatural world isn't kind to them. Humans are seen as liabilities, easy targets. That's why packs that include humans are rare—and why ours has to be strong."

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling over me. "And me? Where do I fit into all of this?"

Michael's gaze softened, just slightly. "Although genetics do play are part in what you are predisposed of leaning into it's really up to you. You've been through hell, Markus. No one's expecting you to step into a role overnight. But you're here now, and that makes you part of this pack. You don't have to figure it out today—or even tomorrow. But when you're ready, we'll find your place."

I didn't know what to say, so I just nodded, staring at the tray of food on the nightstand.

Michael stood his presence as commanding as ever. "Eat, rest, and think about what I've said. You're not alone anymore, Markus. Don't forget that."

With that, he left the room, leaving me to grapple with a mix of emotions—relief, confusion, and the faintest flicker of hope.

The room was silent after Michael's departure, save for the faint hum of the heater in the corner. My thoughts churned, looping over his words. You're not alone anymore. It was a comforting sentiment, but one that felt alien. After so much time spent looking over my shoulder, trusting no one, how could I let myself believe it?

The plate on the nightstand caught my eye. The food was simple—scrambled eggs, toast, and roasted potatoes—but the smell was inviting. My stomach twisted, and I realized how long it had been since I'd eaten anything substantial. With a reluctant sigh, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and grabbed the tray.

As I ate, I mulled over everything Michael had said about the pack. A hierarchy, roles, humans being part of the system—it sounded like a structured community, but it also felt foreign to me. The idea of fitting in somewhere, especially after everything I'd been through, seemed impossible.

I finished the food and set the tray aside, leaning back against the headboard. For a moment, I just stared at the ceiling, trying to process everything. The quiet was unsettling, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

The door creaked open, breaking the silence. I looked up to see Calvin stepping in. His expression was a mix of hesitation and determination, and the familial resemblance to Michael was undeniable.

"Hey," he said, leaning against the wall. "Feeling any better?"

I shrugged. "I guess."

He nodded, crossing his arms. "Dad told me he had a talk with you. About the pack."

"Yeah, he did." My tone was neutral, but his gaze made me uneasy. "Why?"

"Because you're going to hear a lot about what it means to be part of this pack," he said. "And I wanted to make sure you knew something—none of this is easy. You're not going to wake up one day and feel like you belong. It takes time, effort."

I frowned, unsure how to respond.

Calvin pushed off the wall and stepped closer. "When I first started stepping into my role here, I didn't think I could handle it. Living up to my dad's expectations felt impossible. But he's not looking for perfection—he's looking for loyalty and heart. That's what makes a pack strong."

"What's your point?" I asked, my voice more defensive than I intended.

"My point is, you don't have to figure it all out today," Calvin said. "But if you're willing to try, you might surprise yourself. And if you don't…" He shrugged. "You'll always wonder what could've been."

I stared at him, his words sinking in despite my resistance. There was a sincerity in his tone that I couldn't ignore.

"Thanks, I guess," I muttered, unsure what else to say.

He smiled faintly. "You don't have to thank me. Just think about it."

With that, he left, leaving the room in silence once again. For a while, I just sat there, the weight of his words settling over me. You might surprise yourself. Could I really do this? Could I find a place here, among people who seemed so sure of their roles?