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[hades--baby]

The Alpha Up North

Summary: Quinn thought he could escape all of his problems by trekking up north with his bruised, bloody, and nearly dead misfit of a wolf in tow. However, the old-blooded vampire failed to realize that David Shaw wasn't the only alpha that swore to protect Darlin with everything he had. The alpha up north made that clear real fast.

Note: Gregory Keaton just gives off this fatherly love kind of vibe and I thought that I'd extend that love to Darlin (because lord knows they need some of that in their life right now). Let me know what you think and thank you for reading!

(This work was also cross-posted on my ao3 account under hades_baby)

Word Count: 6330

Quinn’s lips were tainted in a dull red tint that matched perfectly to the shade of thick crimson blood flowing from the horrendous open bite marks on Tank’s exposed neck. He’d been relentlessly draining them the entire drive up north, ensuring they only had enough blood in their system to keep them alive and (barely) breathing. The draining hadn’t come to a pause until their face had fallen deathly pale and their skin turned incredulously cold to the touch—just how he wanted them to be. 

And though he would never fully admit it aloud, part of him missed the vibrant warmth that used to radiate from his little misfit of a wolf. The same vibrant warmth that used to counter his own sullen cynicism that he’d adhered to over his undead years. 

He missed the way they used to show off their sly, confident grin at crowded bars as the two of them threw back an obnoxious amount of liquor and hustled pool to earn some extra cash from the poor souls that dared to play against them. He missed how the two of them used to have fun together. He missed the old them.

The one that actually liked wreaking havoc through the streets of Dahlia as if they had nothing better to do with their time. The one that didn’t give two shits about the unempowered brats they were supposedly friends with nowadays. The one that didn’t report him to the fucking department over some minuscule situation that wasn’t even that big of a goddamn deal. 

Well, it wasn’t a big deal to him, at least. 

“Where the fuck are you taking me?”

Quinn sucked in a sharp breath, startled from his thoughts thanks to Tank’s strained voice filling the cab of his truck. He flicked his gaze into the rearview mirror, looking over the roughed-up wolf. The bright moonlight graced their face, showing off how little color they still had under their smooth skin. Their eyes were heavily lidded, barely propped open as they tried to scan the dark moving landscape just outside of the car's tinted windows.

Quinn’s hands tightened around the steering wheel until he was practically white-knuckling the round mechanism. The thick sole of his boot pressed down on the accelerator a little more. He needed to get to the cabin he had secured before Tank could gain their strength back. And even though it wasn’t very likely that the slumped wolf would gain their strength back that quickly, it didn’t hurt to get there sooner than later. 

“Where the fuck are you taking me, Quinn?” Tank repeated, adding a little more animosity to their tone. 

“You don’t have to worry about that, Misfit. All you need to know is that we’ll be there soon enough,” he said, watching them through the rearview mirror for a little while longer before looking back at the open road.

In all honesty, Quinn wasn’t all that worried about keeping a close eye on them. The amount of blood that he had drained from their veins was surely enough to keep them from doing anything rash. Of course, the thought of trancing them to keep them still and complaint had crossed his mind when he first got the jump on them, but he decided that he’d rather play on with a little psychological torture instead.

He wanted them to know that they were too weak to save themself. 

That they truly couldn’t do a damn thing to get out of this situation, regardless of how badly they wanted to.  

So he opted for just checking in on them every few miles in the rearview mirror of his dusty truck. 

He could see them messing with the tight restraints that were skillfully wrapped around their wrists, twisting and turning in an attempt to loosen the ropes, but that did nothing but cinch them tighter than before. They didn’t stop fidgeting until Quinn pulled into a long gravel driveway that led to a small cabin he’d been thinking about the entire drive up north. 

Tank was on high alert the moment the tires of the sedan crunched against the loose gravel of the driveway. Their shoulders tensed and their head whipped around with the little strength that was still pumping through their body. A small smirk graced the sadistic vampire’s face as he saw almost all sense of hope slip away from their tired eyes, depleting into near nothing. 

Had they finally come to terms with the fact that they weren’t going to be getting away this time?

That tonight would be their last night alive?

That this would be the end for them?

Whatever they were thinking, he hoped it was something drastically hopeless. 

He popped the driver’s side door open and practically ripped the back door open. He cinched a grip on Tank’s shirt collar and yanked them out of the back seat just to have them land on the sharp gravel spread over the ground beneath them. The injured wolf groaned in pain, trying to get back on their feet, but Quinn grabbed onto their collar again and started dragging them towards the front door before the soles of their boots could even attempt to plant on the ground. He was expeditiously becoming careless with the way he handled them, completely disregarding their attempts to get away from him. 

He didn’t care if he got their scent all over the damn place anymore. He had managed to hide their scent all the way up from Dahlia to this shit-hole backwater county in the middle of nowhere. There was no way that anyone from the Shaw Pack or the Solaire Clan would find them out here with them being completely off the grid. 

There was no way that anyone would find them out here. 

Quinn kicked the front door open, threw their limp body inside, and slammed the door shut behind him. Fear quickly flooded Tank’s chest and slowly crept up their throat as the entire cabin was enveloped in utter darkness. Not even the faintest glimmer of moonlight found its way inside. 

Much to their dismay, the old vampiric bastard had bashed their face to the point of their own blood backlogging their sense of smell, making it practically impossible for their nose to pick up on anything other than the metallic savor of the crimson liquid that was supposed to be pumping through their veins. 

So with no sense of smell and no source of light to aid their already struggling eyes, all they could do was lie there and listen to Quinn’s feather-like movements as he moved about the cabin. 

Tank hated this feeling. 

They hated feeling… helpless. 

They couldn’t use the enhanced senses that they had always relied on as a wolf, they couldn’t get free from the damn ropes that were tightly wrapped around their sore wrists, and they couldn’t get the fuck away from Quinn. 

They wanted to scream and fight with all their might, but they couldn’t. 

And that infuriated them. 

Before they knew it, a few low-light lamps flickered on and Tank was slowly granted their sight back. They took a chance to look around, moving nothing but their eyes to take in their surroundings. 

The cabin was notably small. It wasn’t really anything but a simple one-room structure with little to no furniture to fill its space. It was quite evident that nobody actually lived in it and they figured that it was probably just some throw-away place that Quinn had managed to get his hands on. 

Tank warily pushed themself up onto their hands and knees, but their limbs shook with exhaustion and their tied wrists made it even harder to keep themself upright. They eventually fell back to the hardwood floor, helpless and ready to close their eyes for good. 

Quinn abruptly slammed a wood chair beside their shaking form and pulled them up onto it. He cut the ropes away from their wrists only to retire them to the uncomfortable armrests of the chair. He then tied their ankles to the legs, making sure to pull tighter than he really needed to. 

“Blood-sucking prick,” Tank muttered under their breath. 

“My dear Misfit, you are in no position to be calling me such mean names,” Quinn taunted, looking up at them from his kneeled position in front of them. He tightened the ropes even more before standing upright. “You know, I’ve always thought that this little thing between us would end in some big glorious fight. The type that would leave both of us bruised and battered and almost dead. But here you are, tied up in front of me with no means of escape and little to no fight left in you.”

Tank barely mustered up enough energy to clench their hands into fists, but they weren’t able to hold it for long and they ended up releasing the tension to rest their palms flat against the armrests. The old vampire smiled at the subtle sign of weakness they tried to conceal, thrilled to see that his little wolf really didn’t stand a chance against him anymore. 

Quinn unexpectedly shot his hand forward and wrapped his fingers around their neck, squeezing nice and tight. His nails dug into their skin, making them wince in pain as his fingers dug right into one of their open wounds. Most of them had stopped bleeding, but the sudden jerk prompted blood to start seeping from them again. 

“Oh, don’t hold yourself back, Misfit,” Quinn said, shaking his head as his grip tightened. His eyes were wide and manic; his pupils nearly dilated to the edge of his glowing irises. A devilish grin spread over his face and his fangs emerged a little more. He let out a deep chuckle, running his tongue over the top row of his teeth. “No one but me is going to be able to hear your cries out here, so you might as well let loose.”

It had been hours since Quinn had started his ruthless assault on Tank. 

The poor wolf had endured hours of the vampire's relentless torture and he wasn’t showing any sign of stopping. And for once in their life, Tank wasn’t so sure how much more they could take before they’d give in and give up. 

They were slightly amused by the fact that they were actually admitting that to themself. 

Out of everyone in their life, they had been the most stubborn about giving up. They had always been the one to pull through, no matter the situation and no matter the cost. Hell, they had been scolded halfway to hell about how reckless they’d been with their lack of self-preservation, yet they always managed to make it out alive. But as they sat strapped to that damn wood chair with blood seeping out of every place imaginable, they really weren’t too sure if they could hold out any longer. 

“Well, I think I’m done playing with my food,” Quinn sighed, lazily strolling back over to their limp figure. He stopped right in front of them, the toes of his boots knocking against their own. He cupped their jaw and slowly tilted their head back, forcing them to look into his eyes. “What do you think, Misfit? Should I just end it all here for you? Or should I keep our fun little game running a little while longer?” 

Tank clenched their jaw, wanting to snarl some sort of harsh obscenity at him, but they couldn’t manage to get anything out. They attempted to bare their teeth at the age-old vampire, but they could barely get their canines to peek past their bloody lips. Quinn hummed at their cute attempt of aggression. 

“I suppose I’ll just put an end to our little game. It was fun while it lasted,” he said, shrugging his shoulders and taking his hand away from their jaw so their head limply dropped back to their chest. 

Fuck. 

They were going to die in this stupid drabby cabin at the hands of a goddamn monstrosity of a person and there was near nothing that they could do about it. 

“How should I do this? Snap your neck? Drain you? Turn you?” he prompted, adding a devilish grin to the last option. 

Tank found the strength to tilt their head back enough to look him in the eye again, an almost begging look falling over their face. Quinn smirked and narrowed his eyes at them before cocking his head to the side. 

Quinn had never seen or heard Tank beg before. 

And he thought he never would. 

But now that he’d had a tiny taste of what that looked like…

Now he wanted to see more. 

“What’s wrong, Misfit? Afraid to have me as your maker?” he asked as he took a small step toward them. “Or are you more scared about losing the wolf in you?”

Tank squirmed in their chair at the thought of Quinn turning them. They didn’t want to become a vampire and they sure as hell didn’t want him to be their fucking maker. They’d probably end up being like that Adam guy that Vincent and Lovely had talked about. Apparently, the guy had killed his own maker and kept on living (sort of) with that heavy secret under his belt. Except Tank would make sure that everyone knew exactly who tore off Quinn’s fucking head. 

“Now that I really think about it, turning you seems like a much more favorable option,” he said, smiling a little more while kneeling down in front of the wolf. “Turning you so you can endure an endless amount of suffering just by my hands alone… sounds fucking extravagant, don’t you think?”

They tilted their head further back in an attempt to get away from him, but they soon realized that they had exposed more of their neck and they immediately snapped their head back down to hide their bloody jugular. Though, that did nothing to stop Quinn from committing his atrocities. 

“You know, I always told myself that I’d never actually turn anyone. Too much responsibility in having progeny to take care of. Too much work. But maybe—just maybe—I’ll make an exception for you,” he said, running his tongue over his fangs. 

He cupped their jaw with one hand again and roughly forced their head back to expose their neck as he stood up straight. He placed one of his knees on the seat of the chair right between their legs, hovering right over them as he stared deeply into their wide eyes. His thumb gently pulled at their bloody bottom lip before trailing all the way down to the middle of their throat. His eyes scoured their neck for a few long moments, then he took a steady deep breath and slowly lowered his head. 

But before he could truly reach their neck, he froze in place and his eyes widened ever so slightly. His head ticked to the side and his eyes flicked toward the front door of the cabin. After a few silent seconds, he narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw. 

He had sensed something that they hadn’t, but what was it?

“Hold that thought, Misfit,” he said with an eerie calmness, looking back into their eyes for a split second before pushing off of them. Their chair rocked back slightly from the force of his shove, but it soon settled back on all four legs. They watched as he peeked past the thick black-out curtains that were covering the windows before making his way to the door and slipping out of the cabin. They let their head slowly teeter before it slumped back down, chin hitting their chest. 

Well… fuck. 

If he wasn’t going to kill them or turn them now, then they might actually just die on their own from blood loss. They had been feeling like absolute shit for hours, but now it was really starting to hit them. The adrenaline was starting to wear off and an excruciating amount of pain was starting to set in. 

Their head felt far too light, their entire body was shivering with merciless chills, and they could feel their mind finally slipping away from the reality of their situation. Their breath was rapid and shallow, their heart was racing, and they were fighting just to keep their eyes open. 

They despised the feeling of being out of control. 

It all felt wrong.  

And for the first time in a very long time, Tank admitted to themself that they were scared. 

They’re not sure how long they had been sitting in their fuzzy state of limbo, but a careful pair of footsteps entered the cabin and that was enough to pull them from their daze. They were afraid that it was just Quinn coming back from whatever mindless hunt he had just gone on, but the person who had just walked in didn’t spit some snarky comment like he would have. If it had been the old-blooded vampire, he would’ve been talking their ear off about how he was going to finally end them with some sort of wicked grin on his face. 

No, it wasn’t Quinn who had just walked in. 

A large, warm hand gently cupped Tank’s face and tilted their head up. Tank slowly peeled their eyes open, silently wondering when they had closed them. Once their vision focused, they immediately thought that they might have actually died because what they were seeing was impossible. They had to be completely fucking delusional or some shit because what they were seeing couldn’t be real. 

“Gabe?” they rasped out while narrowing their eyes. 

They were quite aware that there was no way that the man standing in front of them could be Gabe Shaw, but they didn’t care for logic anymore. They let the full weight of their head slump into the man’s hand, to which the mystery man let out a deep chuckle as he shook his head. 

“Not quite, kiddo. I’m Gregory Keaton. Remember me?” he asked, tilting his head to the side as he rubbed the pad of his thumb over their bloody cheekbone. 

Gregory.

Yeah. 

They remembered him. 

He and Gabe were practically brothers all those years ago. And even though the two alphas had gone their separate ways to assemble their own respective packs, Greg always seemed to find some extra time to spend with the Shaw family. Hell, he had actually been the one to help Tank feel a little more at home when Gabe and David weren’t around to do that themselves. 

After their initial introduction—which had been a little rough because all introductions with Tank were a little rough—Greg had quickly found that the young wolf wasn’t really the talking type, so he found other ways to get to know them and to simply spend time with them. 

He showed them how to fix up some of the old upholstery on their motorcycle and in Gabe’s old ‘62 Chevy Camaro when they were in high school. He would mutter dumb little dad jokes that Tank pretended to hate even though they secretly loved them. And when Gabe and David couldn’t get through to them, Greg always managed to get them to listen a little (it might take a good thirty-minute motorcycle ride and a heart-to-heart, but he always managed to get through to them one way or another).

It had been years since they had seen him. 

The last time they had actually seen him was at… Gabe’s funeral. 

Tank had to admit, they really missed the old bastard. 

“You still with me, kiddo?”

Their eyes focused back on his face before they slowly nodded. The minuscule movement made their head spin and they immediately stilled, squeezing their eyes shut while leaning their head into his hand some more. 

“Yeah, I remember you, Greg,” Tank muttered.

“Good. Let’s get these ropes off of you and get you home,” he said, gently patting their cheek once before kneeling down in front of them. Their head lulled a bit as they watched him cut away the rough ropes.

“Where’s Quinn?”

“Already taken care of,” he said, trusting that the members of his pack had already offed the bloodsucker. He continued to work the ropes off, frowning at the sight of their wounds as he grazed his fingertips over the raw skin of their wrists. The amount of blood, gashes, and bites that littered their skin made him wonder how they had managed to hold out as long as they did. “He won’t be bothering you or anybody else anymore.” 

“Good.”

Once the ropes were off, they involuntarily slumped forward. Greg caught them and picked them up with ease, his arms hooked under their limp legs and back in the process of it all. Their head tucked into the crook of his neck, finding solace in his warm embrace. 

“How’d you find me?” Tank asked, their rapid breath starting to slow down. 

“Ansel noticed that Quinn had been spending an awful lot of time in this little cabin for the past month or so. Once David gave me a call to tell me that you had gone missing and there had been a sighting of him heading out of Dahlia, we assumed that this is where he might have taken you,” he answered, stepping through the door and into the cold forest. 

Tall pine trees loomed up above them and the dark sky peeked through the very tips of the fresh green tops. 

Tank loved the sight of the star-ridden sky.  

They desperately wished that they could keep their eyes open long enough to get a good look at all of the shining stars, but they could barely manage to keep peeling their eyes open after blinking, so they had a feeling stargazing was out of the question. Even so, they tilted their head back to rest against Greg’s shoulder and forced their eyes open so they could watch the stars one last time. 

“Hey, Greg?” they started, swallowing hard as they continued to stare at the shimmering abyss above them. 

“What’s up, kiddo?”

“I think I’m dying,” they concluded in a strained tone, letting a heavy breath trail their words. “And I think I’m a little scared.”

“You are not dying on my watch. You hear me?” he said, shaking his head as he trekked over to his truck a little faster. 

A large group of the Keaton Pack had accompanied their alpha on his mission to rescue Tank. They had been tasked with the job of tearing Quinn limb from limb while their alpha sought out the young wolf that had been snatched away from their own pack. And since the entire group was waiting by his truck, he could only assume that they had taken care of the bastard leech for good. 

Greg rested Tank in the bed of his truck and climbed in as he called his healers over. He settled himself in the middle and gently set the younger wolf’s head on his lap, running his fingers through their hair in an attempt to soothe them.  

“You’re going to be just fine, alright?” he said, looking down at them. Their eyes were unfocused and he could tell that they were staring past his face and at the stars instead. He remembered that they had a knack for stargazing. There had been countless times he and Gabe had found them lying out on the roof of the Shaw house just to stargaze in peace. “Plus, I have a feeling Gabe would come back to haunt my ass if he ever found out you died on my watch.”

Tank let out a huff of a laugh at that. 

“Yeah, he probably would,” they said, a small smile flashing over their face as they thought about what Gabe might have said to them right then and there if he were still around.

And as Tank stared at the glimmering stars with Greg’s fingers soothingly working through their hair, they couldn’t help but feel at peace as they slowly slipped away. 

Tank wasn’t all that sure where they were when they’d woken up, but they knew it wasn’t home. 

They weren’t at their shitty little apartment in the shady industrial district of Dahlia, nor were they tucked away at Sam’s comfy cabin in the middle of the woods. 

So yeah. 

They weren’t home. 

And that kind of terrified them. 

They couldn’t really remember much of what had happened, but they did remember bits and pieces. 

Though, part of their memory felt more like a dream than a reality. 

Like Gregory Keaton. 

Part of them felt like the old alpha had just been a figment of their imagination as they slowly descended into the madness of blood loss that Quinn had so graciously bestowed upon them. But it soon became apparent that they weren’t imagining anything as the bedroom door beside them opened and the person they’d been thinking about stepped into the room. They forced themself upright, hoping to get a clearer view. And the sight was almost enough to send them reeling back onto the mattress. 

“Hey there, kiddo,” Greg greeted as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. His weight made Tank sink towards him and they had to plant one of their hands down to keep themself from slamming into his side. He set a hand on their shoulder to keep them from falling any further, which they were more than grateful for because they weren’t too sure if they could have stopped completely on their own. “You gave us a bit of a fright back there. We thought we had lost you for a minute before one of my healers could find your pulse again.”

Tank didn’t know what to say. 

They hadn’t seen him in such a long time and with the situation at hand, they didn’t really know what to do, what to say, or what to even think. They felt like they were everywhere and nowhere all at once. 

“Here. Drink this. Feels like you’re still running a little cold and this should help warm you up a bit,” he said, gently patting their back as he handed them a cup of what looked to be tea. Tank took it in their shaking hands, happy to get something warm in their system. They just needed something to soothe their soul a bit. “Your pack is on the way. They should be rolling in soon. Oh, and David mentioned something about your mate tagging along too.”

Their eyes widened at his last statement. 

The fact that Sam was coming along wasn’t what surprised them. 

What surprised them was the fact that David had told Greg. 

“So you found yourself a mate, huh?” he teased with a smile as he playfully nudged their shoulder. They nodded before taking a long sip of the warm tea. He had added honey to it. He must’ve remembered that they liked their tea that way. “Does he treat you well?”

“He does,” they answered, smiling slightly. “More than well.”

“Good. You let me know if he ever treats you differently, you hear?” he said, giving them a faux stern look. They nodded their head in response. “But from what I’ve been told, I don’t think I have to worry about that all that much. A vampire with a knack for healing magic? That’s not something you see every day.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty damn special,” they said, their words slurring a bit as they spoke. Greg just assumed that the healing magic was still pumping through their veins pretty hard. “He’s saved me more times than I’d like to admit.”

“Well, it looks like you’ve got a couple of wolf packs and a vamp clan looking out for you now,” he joked, huffing out a light laugh. 

“Greg,” someone called from the entrance of the bedroom. The alpha looked up and perked his brows to let the person know that he was listening. “Shaw’s here.”

Tank perked up slightly and took a deep breath through their nose in hopes of catching the comforting scent of their pack, but they weren’t able to pick anything up. They furrowed their brows and slumped slightly, which Greg seemed to notice with ease. 

“Senses still shot?” he asked, looking at them with a sympathetic look. They nodded and looked down at their cup of tea. He set a hand on their back and gently patted them a couple of times. “It might take some time for your senses to come back. That bloodsucker did quite a number on you.”

“Right,” they muttered, nodding their head once more. 

David soon appeared in the opening of the bedroom. His eyes immediately landed on Tank and they could see visible relief roll off of him. Tank let a small smile pull at their lips before it dropped and disappeared completely. They were too drained to really hold anything up right now. Even the hot cup of tea cradled in their hands started to be too much for them to hold. Greg must’ve noticed that too because he placed his hand under the cup and carried the weight in the palm of his hand. 

“Let me take that for you,” he said. Tank was grateful that they could drop their hands back to their lap as he took the mug from them and made his way over to where David was standing. 

“I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done tonight,” David started, but he was promptly interrupted by Greg letting out a light chuckle. He placed a hand on the younger alpha’s shoulder and squeezed comfortingly. 

“I already told you, David. You and the rest of the Shaw Pack are like family, especially that one over there,” Greg said, gesturing his head toward Tank. He couldn’t help but smile at the young wolf. He viewed them as one of his own kids. Same with David. “I’d do anything to protect you two.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, go on in. They just woke up a few minutes ago,” Greg said, patting David on the back a couple of times before looking over at Tank. “Can I get you anything else, kiddo?”

“I’m alright,” they said, shaking their head. “Thanks, Greg.”

The older alpha nodded once more, gave them both one last reassuring look, and then disappeared into the hallway. David stood frozen in the doorway for a few moments, looking Tank over a couple of times as they kept their eyes trained on the hardwood floor set below them. The tall alpha stepped towards Tank, keeping his strides steady and methodical. He kneeled down in front of them and fell still again.

Tank couldn’t bring themself to look him in the eye. 

They wondered if he knew the whole story behind the night's events. 

They hoped he knew that they didn’t go after Quinn. That the damned old-blooded vampire had jumped and snatched them while they were on their way home from work. That they didn’t go looking for him on their own. That they didn’t break the very promise that they had made to him and Sam. 

They hoped he knew that. 

They hoped he knew all of that. 

David slowly and steadily raised one of his hands into the air, not wanting to startle them with any quick movement. He set his warm palm on the back of their head and eased them forward, pressing their foreheads together. They both closed their eyes and took a deep breath before Tank completely slumped forward to rest their head against his broad shoulder. He held them up with ease, letting them put their entire weight on him. 

“You’re alright,” he whispered, embracing them comfortingly. 

Tank squeezed their eyes shut and frowned, pressing their forehead against his shoulder even harder.

Tank wanted to cry. 

They wanted to just cry and let it all out. 

But they couldn’t bring themself to do that in front of David right now.

“I didn’t go after him on my own. I swear to fucking God, I didn’t go after him on my own. I don’t know how but he fucking jumped me and almost drained me and then we were in the middle of the woods in some fucking cabin and then—” Tank tried to explain in desperate rambles. 

“Hey,” David said, shaking his head while slowly pulling them away. He looked them in the eye, making sure to keep them upright and steady as he tried to find the words he wanted to say. 

He had never seen them so… vulnerable. 

Tank had never been the type to show what was truly going on in their head or in their heart. 

They had never been the type to show—what they would call—a moment of weakness. 

Seeing them in such a state almost made him freeze. 

“You’re not in trouble, Tank,” he started, keeping his voice as straight as he could. “I know you didn’t go after him on your own. And even if you had, you still wouldn’t be in trouble. The only thing the pack and I care about is whether or not you’re okay.”

Tank stared back at him with a wide-eyed look for a few beats before slowly nodding their head in response. 

A set of car lights peeked through the blinds of the room, making both of their heads whip toward the window.  

“That should be Ash, Milo, and Sam,” David said, sitting back to give them a little space. 

The sounds of the front door opening, hushed deep voices, and rushed footsteps echoed down the hallway and led right to the bedroom. Sam soon appeared in the doorway in a flash, almost ramming into the doorway as he slid to a halt. His eyes met Tank’s and he let out a heavy sigh of relief before stepping forward and dropping to his knees in front of them. 

David got back up to his feet to make ample space for the two to properly reunite. He made his way back over to the bedroom door, looked back at the pair once more, and then headed out to the living room, where the others were undoubtedly waiting to hear how the young wolf was doing.

“Can I touch, Darlin?” Sam asked as he hastily looked them over. Tears filled their eyes as they nodded their head in response. And the moment his hands gently graced their skin, they lunged forward and fell right into his embrace. Sam held onto them tight, not showing a damn sign of letting go anytime soon. He pulled them close into his chest, cradling his tough wolf. 

“I swear I didn’t go after him, Sam,” Tank sobbed, finally breaking down in their mate’s arms. Hot tears streamed from their eyes and their shoulders shook from the intensity of their sobbing. “I swear I didn’t go after him. I promised that I wouldn’t and I swear I didn’t—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Sam interrupted, shaking his head while gently patting their hair down on the back of their head. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t go after him. I know he got the jump on you.”

“I swear I didn’t break my promise,” they whispered, trying to speak coherently with their shaking voice. 

“I know you didn’t, Darlin. I know you didn’t,” he reassured, pulling them in even more. He kissed their forehead and silently looked them over as he gently rocked them back and forth in hopes of soothing them. “Another healer got to you before I could, huh?” he said, smiling a bit while playfully jostling them around.

They smiled as their tears started to slow down. 

They smiled. 

And that was enough to make Sam’s heart melt even more. 

“Mr. Keaton seems to care about you a whole lot. Nearly stared me down when he first opened the door,” he continued to joke, hoping to pull a little more of a smile from them as they started to calm down some more. He could hear their heart slowing down from the rapid pace it had once been set at. 

“He’s protective, is all. It’s been a few years since I’ve really seen him and he’s still the same,” they muttered in response, slumping comfortably against his chest. “But don’t worry. I’m pretty sure he already likes you.”

“Now that’s just the healin’ magic gettin’ to your head,” he said, shaking his own head a bit. 

They let out a light huff of a laugh. 

Their heart had finally calmed down and Sam could tell that they were starting to slow down altogether. Healing magic had always struggled with putting Tank down. They seemed to always fight through the usual drowsy effects that typically came along with healing magic. But Sam could see that they were giving into it for once. He could see that they were accepting the fact that they needed rest and that they needed to—for once in their damn life—sleep and heal.

“Are you going to be here when I wake up?” they asked, slowly tilting their head up to look at him. 

“Damn right I’ll be here, Darlin,” he said, nodding his head. They tilted their head up and managed to press a gentle kiss to his lips (with the help of him leaning down a bit to not strain their neck). “I’ll be right here.”

“Mkay,” they muttered, nodding their head as their eyes closed. 

Sam didn’t care that they were sitting on the floor in their own little awkward bundle. He could wake up with a crick in his neck or a bad back and he still wouldn’t care. He was just happy to have his dear Darlin in his arms, listening to their heart beating clearly, and their lungs breathing in air. 

Quinn was dead. 

His mate was still breathing. 

And they were okay. 

They were okay.