Edward's grip tightened on Aria's arm, but her breathing was growing shallow—her fingers going limp.
"Enough!" Carlisle barked, shoving Derek back with supernatural strength.
The movement immediately snapped him back from his trance. Derek gasped—reeling as if waking from a dream—and finally saw what he'd done.
Aria lay pale, almost ghostly—blood still trickling from the wound in her forearm, soaking into the sleeve of Carlisle's jacket. Her lips were parted—her chest barely rising.
"No…" Derek croaked, scrambling toward her despite his wounds. "No no no… Aria! Aria!" He grabbed her hand—cold and slick with sweat and blood—but she didn't respond.
Her pulse fluttered under his fingertips like a dying bird.
I did this, he thought, horror crashing over him like waves. I almost killed her…
"Derek," Carlisle said firmly, but not unkindly, "She needs medical attention now. Real human care. But even so, there's no guarantee that she would survive." Carlisle said fatherly.
Derek looked up at him, eyes desperate—his voice ragged. "What are you saying?"
Carlisle met his gaze steadily. It was hard to read his expression—but beneath the clinical mask, there was sympathy. "I'm saying that it's a miracle she's even breathing right now."
"What c- can I d-d- do?"
Carlisle hesitated—weighing his words. "Right now the best thing you can do for her is get her to a hospital."
His gaze softened, as if recognizing the anguish in his voice.
"She'll need human doctors and modern medicine beyond what we possess to keep her and the child alive. And then—we pray that it's enough."
Derek's head snapped up, eyes wide with unshed tears. "Ch- child?"
The room seemed to freeze.
All eyes turned to Derek—pale, broken, still half-collapsed from blood loss—but his gaze locked onto Carlisle's with sudden, breathless intensity.
"What… did you just say?" he whispered, voice cracking like dry earth.
Carlisle looked at him gently—tiredly—and nodded once.
"She's pregnant, Derek. You're going to be a father."
Derek didn't move. Didn't breathe.
His fingers curled around Aria's hand like he was holding on for both their lives.
And then— A sound escaped him. Not a word. Not a cry. But something raw—a sob ripped from deep in his chest—as he dropped his forehead against her cold wrist.
Tears finally spilled over—hot and silent—mixing with the blood on her skin.
I've practically killed my own child, he thought again. I almost let them both die... because I couldn't stop myself.
Scott—who had slipped back into the room quietly—took one look at Derek and turned away fast, blinking hard as emotion clawed up his own throat. Even Stiles stood frozen in the doorway now—the sharp edge of sarcasm gone completely—as if seeing something too fragile to breathe near.
And then—
Aria stirred.
Just slightly—a faint twitch of fingers under Derek's touch—a weak sigh escaping cracked lips.
"...D'rk?"
"I'm here," he choked, pressing her hand to his face, tears streaking through grime and blood. "I'm right here… baby—I'm so sorry…"
"...D'rk... ch'nge... m—" Her words to soft for the human ear but not to the supernatural.
Derek's breath hitched—his golden eyes widening as her words seeped through the haze of pain and guilt.
"Change… you?" he repeated, voice trembling. "Aria… no. No, I won't—I can't—"
He looked down at her face—pale, fragile—and then to the wound on her arm, now tightly bandaged but still oozing faintly beneath Carlisle's makeshift wrap.
She didn't mean becoming a vampire, because that's something he can't provide. She meant something else. Something deeper. Something like him.
The bond between them—the Anima Cantat—it wasn't just love. It was transformation. A merging of souls so powerful that one could not survive without the other for long.
If she died… He'd die too. And now? Now she was asking him to save her—to change her—into a monster. Derek turned desperately, eyeing Carlisle.
"You don't understand," he said, thinking that this might be his only option. "If you don't... she'll fade... and even if she reached the hospital… it might not be enough." Carlisle hesitated—but only for a second before slowly adding. "The child is tied to both of you by magic older than most species here," he said quietly. "If Aria dies… the baby dies with her. And if Derek loses both of them…"
"He'll follow," Edward finished, voice grim.
Derek closed his eyes—heavy with grief, with fear… with love beyond reason.
Then— He opened them again. Fire burned behind his gaze. "Then I'll change her."
Everyone inhaled sharply—even Jasper took a step back.
"No—" Scott started._ "Derek, you can't just decide—"
"If I'm to safe her then she can't remain human," Derek snarled, cutting him off—one hand gripping Aria's tighter. "She asked and I'm choosing my family."
Suddenly Alice gasped—a vision hitting like lightning. Her knees buckled—but Jasper caught her before she fell. When she spoke, it wasn't Alice's voice anymore—it was layered: ancient and echoing like wind through stone halls. "Only blood answers blood... Only fire consumes fire... The mate must burn before rebirth..." She blinked rapidly, returning to herself, face pale as snow.
"He has to endure it," she whispered hoarsely. "The transformation won't be given—it will have to be taken through pain."
"Flip the vision, no harsh feelings, but we don't need another wolf of your talent in Beacon Hills. And we don't just change entire identities." Scott tries to convince him otherwise.
Derek turned his head slowly—amber eyes locking onto Scott's.
"Scott…" he said, voice low but edged with something final. "I've already lost my own identity the moment she convinced me to let her join me in battle."
He looked down at Aria—her breathing shallow, her skin like paper—and tightened his grip on her hand. "I'm not turning her."
A beat of silence. And then—
"I'm becoming what she needs me to be. Not the wolf that I've always been, but a part of her."