Teen Wolf: Savage Roots
Chapter 3 — The Pack Returns
The message had spread.
Not through news channels.
Not through the internet.
But through something far older.
Trust.
Inside the old veterinary clinic in Beacon Hills, Scott McCall stared at his phone.
His thumb hovered over the screen.
Names filled the contact list.
Friends.
Family.
Pack.
People who had fought beside him… bled beside him.
People who had earned their peace.
Scott exhaled slowly.
Then he started sending messages.
I need everyone back in Beacon Hills.
Something is happening.
This isn't over.
One by one… the messages went out.
---
Across the world.
Phones buzzed.
Notifications lit up.
And old bonds began pulling people back together.
---
In London…
Rain poured outside a small apartment window.
On the couch sat Stiles Stilinski.
His phone vibrated again.
Scott's message stared back at him.
He read it twice.
Then a third time.
Stiles leaned back against the couch and sighed heavily.
"Of course," he muttered.
He closed his eyes.
And suddenly—
The memory came rushing back.
---
Four Years Ago
Stiles pushed open the door to Lydia's bedroom.
"Lydia?" he called.
Inside the room, Lydia Martin was packing a suitcase.
Fast.
Too fast.
Clothes, books, papers—everything was being shoved into the bag without care.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa—hey," Stiles said, stepping closer.
"Lydia… calm down."
She didn't stop packing.
"Lydia," he said again, softer this time.
"What's going on?"
Finally she stopped.
But she didn't look at him.
"I have to leave," she said quietly.
Stiles blinked.
"Leave?"
He laughed nervously.
"What do you mean leave? Like… vacation leave? College visit leave? Please tell me you're not talking about dramatic movie breakup leave—"
"Stiles."
Her voice cracked.
That single word stopped him.
She turned around.
Her eyes were red.
"I can't stay here," she whispered.
Stiles felt the ground shift under his feet.
"Why?"
Lydia's hands trembled.
"My banshee visions," she said.
"They're getting worse."
Stiles stepped closer.
"We'll figure it out," he said.
"We always do."
Lydia shook her head.
"No."
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
"This time I saw something different."
Stiles swallowed.
"What?"
She looked directly into his eyes.
"You dying."
The room fell silent.
Stiles tried to laugh again.
"Okay, see now that's just rude—"
"I'm serious."
Her voice broke.
"I saw you die, Stiles."
His smile faded.
"I can't stay here and pretend everything's fine," Lydia whispered.
"If I stay… it will happen."
Stiles stared at her.
Trying to process it.
Trying to find the words that would fix everything.
But for once…
There were none.
"So what," he said quietly.
"You're just leaving?"
Lydia looked away.
"I'm trying to save you."
Stiles' voice cracked.
"You're leaving me."
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Finally Lydia closed her suitcase.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
Stiles stood there.
Broken.
Watching the love of his life walk past him.
And out the door.
---
Present Day
Stiles opened his eyes.
The memory faded.
But the ache never did.
He looked at Scott's message again.
Then he sighed.
"Well," he muttered.
"Guess Beacon Hills is trying to kill us again."
He stood up.
And started packing.
---
Back in Beacon Hills, the pack slowly began arriving.
First came Ethan Steiner and Jackson Whittemore.
Then Malia Tate.
Jordan Parrish arrived soon after.
Melissa McCall joined them inside the clinic.
Even Peter Hale appeared.
Uninvited.
Of course.
"Don't look so surprised," Peter said smugly. "Apocalypses are my favorite social gatherings."
---
But someone else had arrived too.
And he wasn't going to see Scott first.
Stiles stood outside Lydia's lake house.
His hand hovered over the door.
He knocked.
The door opened slowly.
Lydia stood there.
For a moment…
Neither of them spoke.
Four years of distance hung in the air.
"Hi," Stiles said awkwardly.
Lydia smiled softly.
"Hi."
They stepped inside.
Silence filled the room.
Then Lydia spoke.
"You came back."
Stiles rubbed the back of his neck.
"Yeah, well… apparently the town's trying to destroy the supernatural world again."
She laughed quietly.
God, he had missed that sound.
But her expression turned serious again.
"Stiles…"
"I still care about you."
His heart skipped.
"But we have to take things slow."
Stiles nodded.
"Slow I can do."
Then he added quickly:
"Medium slow."
"Okay maybe emotionally cautious fast walking."
Lydia rolled her eyes.
But she was smiling.
---
Later that night…
The clinic doors opened again.
Scott turned around.
And froze.
Standing there was Stiles Stilinski.
For a moment neither of them moved.
Four years.
Four years since they had last stood in the same room.
Then Scott smiled.
"Hey."
Stiles grinned.
"Hey yourself."
Scott walked forward.
They hugged.
Hard.
The kind of hug that said everything words couldn't.
"Dude," Stiles said. "You got older."
Scott laughed.
"So did you."
"Yeah but I did it better."
---
Soon the entire pack sat around a large table.
The room was crowded.
Liam Dunbar
Hikari Zhang
Allison Argent
Alan Deaton
Ethan Steiner
Jackson Whittemore
Jordan Parrish
Melissa McCall
Peter Hale
Malia Tate
And finally—
A familiar face stepped through the door.
Isaac Lahey.
Scott's eyes widened.
"Isaac?"
Isaac smiled.
"France got boring."
The pack laughed.
But even with everyone there…
The room still felt like it was missing someone.
Scott felt it.
Everyone did.
Stiles suddenly dropped a giant folded map onto the table.
The paper slammed loudly against the wood.
"Alright!" Stiles announced dramatically.
He grabbed a pencil and stabbed it into the map.
"Guys…"
He grinned.
"We've got a mystery to solve."
Scott watched his best friend rambling again.
The chaos.
The humor.
The heart.
And for the first time since everything started…
Scott smiled.
Inside his mind, a quiet thought surfaced.
I wish you were here, Derek.
Eli is okay.
We're taking care of him.
He's almost done with high school.
Scott looked around the room at the pack.
His family.
Then his expression hardened.
I'll do anything in my power to keep him safe.
Because whatever was coming…
This time…
It was coming for all of them.