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Angel and Faith recruit Derek, and by extension the Wolfpack, to fight the upcoming battle against Wolfram and Hart.
5/9/2016 9:00 PM
Lookout Point Beacon Hills
Beacon Hills - Hale House []
Controlled by: Beacon Hills Wolfpack []
Hale House was once a quaintly pleasant country home, built in the style
of a large farmhouse with a wraparound porch and two full floors. That
was before the fire. Now, situated in a somewhat overgrown clearing, it's
a mere shell, a blackened and ruined ghost of what it once was. The lower
floor is still comprised of several partly intact rooms, each containing
decaying remnants of furniture, while the upstairs is mostly burnt away,
leaving only a couple of rooms behind. The old master bedroom even has a
threadbare pallet lying on the floor, evidence that it wasn't too long
ago that someone was sleeping here. In the strictest sense, the house
does still offer shelter, but the amenities have long since ceased to
function, and that's really all the building is: a shelter from the
elements, slowly giving way to rot and neglect.
The night has well begun
In spring, daytime temperatures approach an average of 65?F. The plants
are budding and blooming with new life with the spring thaw and warming
temperatures. It's fair and mild, with a few clouds in the sky.
The waxing crescent moon is visible in the sky.
Hale House may have seen better days, but at the very least it's had a few touch-ups here and there to make sure it's not going to fall down anytime soon. In fact, once one gets past the initial impression of a derelict structure mainly presented by its exterior, it's fairly livable: there's a mostly-empty room set aside for resting, another set up with practice dummies and a punching bag, as well as some other devices probably for some sort of training. And there's a semi-hidden area overgrown with some assortment of plants.
Tonight finds Derek Hale in his family home, one of the select few in Beacon Hills that ever comes there anymore. He looks down at the display on his phone and sets it aside on the table again. Vampires. It's almost 9 PM.
A 1967 Cheverolet Impala pulls up. Out of the driver's side exits a tall brooding guy in a long black trenchcoat with very much gelled hair. Because yeah. That's how Angel rolls. He got the address after texting Derek with the number he'd received during the initial alliance, and explaining he wanted to meet. As Angel gets out of the car, he looks the place over, figuring Derek must be trying to keep a low profile. He then approaches the home...and goes to knock on the door.
Of course, the Invitation rules apply...
And from the passenger's side - a dark-haired woman in jeans, leather jacket. She's definitely less broody than her companion, studying the house with a little bit of a sardonic smile on her face. Angel might need to be invited in. She...doesn't. But mostly she's there because, well, who goes into a wolf's lair on their own?
There's a pause, and then Derek speaks. He's not yelling, not exactly anyway, but his voice is forceful enough to carry through the perhaps surprisingly sturdy door. "I'll be right out." He's to his feet almost instantly, to the door only seconds later, and it pulls open to admit him. He closes it firmly behind him and steps carefully out onto what has become more forest floor than it ever was a yard. "Lookout Point isn't far. We can go there to talk." Since it's Monday, it won't be occupied.
Angel nods. He doesn't take offense at the fact Derek doesn't want to extend the invite...after all, it's potentially dangerous still, and the very spells being cast were going to be messing with the very thing that kept Angel firmly on the side of protectors of the world...instead of on the side of destroyers. "Sounds fine. Lead the way."
Not to mention, letting a hunter in his house might not be something the were alpha is comfortable with. Falling in next to Angel, Faith nods to Derek. "Works for me." It's not like it's raining or anything unpleasant like that.
Lookout Point[]
Most of this area is covered with the trees of the forest preserve. They are thin, young trees in some areas, widely spaced to allow plenty of space for the forest's carpet of past years' leaves. As one moves south and west, though, the trees grow larger, closer together, with thicker undergrowth between them. Near the road, a large sign proclaims a warning that one might do well to heed: "No Entry After Dark."
The area is named for the mountain top to the west, which is easily accessed by road and overlooks the whole of Beacon Hills, from the forest preserve to the West Hills neighborhoods, the East Hills River beyond, and then the downtown and industrial districts beyond. From here, the town of Beacon Hills looks rather small, indeed. To the east, the woods end abruptly as they meet the highway, marking a clear border between the forest and civilization.
The evening's stars are mostly hidden by dark clouds above.
In spring, nighttime temperatures do not generally reach above 45?F. The plants are budding and blooming with new life with the spring thaw and warming temperatures. It's fair and mild, with a few clouds in the sky.
Derek leads the way to Lookout Point, which isn't all that far. He remains silent the whole time. It's probably just the way he is. Once they arrive, it's clear this is a gathering place...a common one, not so much a supernatural one. But it should be at least comfortable enough to talk here, and it's reasonably shielded from the elements. Not that it's particularly brisk any longer, but it's certainly not warm.
"So. You wanted to talk?" Derek folds powerful arms over equally powerful chest, shown through his suddenly very thin-seeming shirt. Not just his physique, though, it's more of an aura, a way of carrying himself, that he exudes from every slightest movement.
Angel nodded. "Yes. We're gathering our allies for a spell due to be cast soon. We need to organize several different people for the event, as we're expecting heavy resistance from my enemies. Essentially, we'd like you and your pack to participate in defending the witches as they cast the spells necessary to fix a very long time problem." Pause. "We'll pick a date when we figure out when everyone can gather."
Faith Lehane nods. "And I'll be providing resources too. It wouldn't just be you, I promise." She's talked to Buffy about gathering some of the Slayers to assist. It'll be good practice for them, if nothing else.
Derek's scrutiny is even and relentless. In his own way, he comes off as inhuman as Angel, just in a different way. Maybe even more definitely-not-human. "You want me...to put my pack in heavy danger for a personal problem." Stiles could probably have told them; Derek Hale has this way of putting things that isn't always the most flattering.
Angel considers what Derek says. "...You're not far wrong. It's almost like that. What I'm actually asking is for you to protect the witches that are casting the spells to fix a personal problem. The coven isn't going to be able to fight off enemy forces and cast the necessary spells at the same time."
Faith falls quiet at this point. She's watching, and occasionally glancing around the area. It looks like at least part of why she's here is to make sure nobody sneaks up on them while the men negotiate.
Derek tilts his head slightly back, looking down at Angel. Not quite down his nose, but it's an imposing sort of look. He's not trying to be intimidating. "Ask McCall." Not that he won't come along and bring anyone he can, but more that Scott has more to call upon. It's probably more of a Scott thing anyway, and he figures he'll hear whether or not he needs to come too -- probably to provide transportation, as much as anything else.
Angel anticipated that. "We will. We'll be in town for a bit, and we'll probably be running into him shortly." Still, he's good enough at reading people, even wolves, to know Derek is apparently willing to help. "I won't pretend you aren't going to war here, cause you will be if you choose to go." Hmmm. "Anyone else you can introduce us to while we're here?" Angel handles the imposing sort of look well, though. Among vampires, he's an 'Alpha' in his own right, and he meets Derek's gaze easily enough.
Faith Lehane nods. "Anyone at all who might be interested and up for a fight. I don't know how many girls I'll be able to rope in."
The even keel satisfies Derek enough. One thick brow raises at the talk of war, head tilting slightly. The words are allowed to sink in for a few seconds before his lips part again. "War with whom?" Every syllable is carefully pronounced, bell-clear even with the rustle of nightbirds in the boughs around them. The gears in his mind almost click with the kind of complications that make Swiss artisans weep. "Jackson Whittemore. Tell him you need the best, and make it worth his time."
Angel answers fairly evenly. "Wolfram and Hart, and their allies, mostly demons of various sorts recruited for the task. We expect Sajhan and Holtz will be on point, but after that, they'll be throwing everything they can find at us to, well...release my other self. Part of the spells is going to revert me to to my...darker self temporarily, which is why I won't be available. I'm going to be chained, caged, bound, gagged, magically bound, and a few other things to make sure my other self doesn't get out. One of the many reasons why the witches will need protection."
"They want his other self. They won't get him." One way or another. There's something very solid, very grim and very certain in Faith's tone.
Derek narrows his eyes. That's a detail he hadn't considered. "I need to consult one of our allies. Talk to Scott and Jackson." With that, he's moving off, though not in the direction of the house where they met. Maybe it's a straight shot to wherever he intends to go and whomever he may intend to consult. "I'll be in touch."
Angel asks for Jackson's contact information so he can contact him as asked. Presuming he gets it, he'll make sure he contacts the guy as soon as possible. "Alright. The more information you have, and the better prepared you are, the better off everyone is." Because all the other people jumping are going to need to be prepared too. "Feel free to call or text as you see fit."
Faith Lehane watches him go. "He'll help." She brushes back her hair. "Wolfram & Hart..." Faith hates dealing with them. But it's often an occupational hazard.