The Alpha and The Fool

"Come with me," Wesley said, eyeing Antoine and Beth. His face pale and sickly. He grabbed my arm, but I pulled away from him.

"Tell me whose blood that is now!" I was shouting, and I didn't care.

"Your father's," he replied tersely, and this time, I let him guide me out of the large dining room and down the hall.

"What happened?" I demanded and waved for Antoine and Beth to follow. Had Antoine done something? I thought he was a good man, but I wasn't exactly an expert in the character judgment department. Wesley licked his lips, glancing at the others. "Forget about Antoine and Beth and tell me!"

"I was heading back when I saw it," Wesley said, grief washing over his face. "I didn't realize what was happening at first. I just saw your father fall and Brandon over him with a knife."

"Brandon attacked Father?" I said, horrified.

"Attacked? Nic, he was trying to kill him. He was going to stab him again when Dean stopped him.”

I stumbled to a stop. "Wes, tell me you're joking."

He shook his head. "I got to your father and got him out of there. He didn't look good."

"And Dean? What about Dean?"

"I don't know, I just..." he said, trailing off.

"Where were they?" I demanded then shouted. "Now, Wesley!"

"Library," he said, and I ran towards the library.

There was blood everywhere, but I didn't see neither Dean nor Brandon. My heart clenched painfully as I left and ran to the infirmary. Hopefully, he was there. I swear if Brandon hurt Dean, I'd make him hurt more than he'd ever hurt before. The infirmary was buzzing with action, and my heart relaxed at the sight of Dean, alive and well, mostly well. His hand was wrapped up, and he had a nasty cut on his face. "Dean," I said, running up and hugging him. "Are you alright? What happened?"

"I was talking with your dad, trying to warm him up to the idea of Antoine being the alpha when you're — Brandon just showed up. He was acting all like nothing had happened. Your dad kept his word, Nic. He told him to take whatever possessions he had and leave. Brandon started arguing. He tried dragging me into it, but I stayed out. I thought it was something they needed to work out together. If I'd known...but it all happened so fast. He'd already stabbed your dad twice before I realized...I shoved him back before he could do it again. We fought. He got me a few times then ran when I guess he realized I was stronger or something."

I hugged him, not only to thank him but to also to help ground him. He was looking so lost and dazed, it nearly broke my heart to see it. "Thank you, Dean." After a few moments, he hugged me back. "How bad are you," I said pulling back to eye his face and hand. The blade must have been silver because it wasn't healing like it should.

"I'm okay. They say it'll probably scar, but hey, girls like scars," he said with a shrug and attempt at a smirk, though it was nothing close to its usual cockiness.

I hugged him again, thanking God and anyone else who'd listen that Dean was there for Father. "It'll make you look tough," I told him.

He hugged me back, and we took a seat in one of the few chairs there, waiting for news. I wasn't sure when either of us fell asleep, but we both jolted awake when a tired looking doctor tapped me on the shoulder. "Sorry," she said apologetically.

I sniffed, shook my head, feeling my whole body ache. "No, it's fine. How is Father?"

"He's alive," she said, and I knew there was a but. "But his healing isn't going as it should due to silver contamination."

"Silver contamination," I repeated, not sure what exactly it meant, but it didn't sound good.

“Like silver poisoning, but usually not fatal. Usually from silver plating and stuff like that," Dean explained, and the doctor nodded in agreement.

"I believe the weapon used on your father was plated instead of actual silver. During the attack, the plating flaked off, making him weaker," she added. "So how long will it last? Can't you do anything to counter it?"

The doctor shook her head. "It can't be countered, and it will last indefinitely. It's too small of a quantity to be removed or the body to reject it, I'm afraid."

"Will he be in pain," I asked, squeezing Dean's hand in an attempt to keep the panic back.

"Not chronically, but your father is now physically on a human level. He can get hurt easier, heal slower, and can get sick."

My throat tightened. Father couldn't stand it when his knee hurt and the weakness it planted in him. Now? It might have been better for Brandon to kill him. As soon as the thought entered my head, I shove it away. No, it wouldn't have. How could Brandon do this to him, his own father?

Dean pulled me closer. "When can she go see him?"

"You can go in now if you'd like?" the doctor offered.

Again, I squeezed Dean's hand. "Thank you, I'd like that. You'll come in with me, right?" I asked, look at Dean.

"Of course, if I can."

The doctor nodded, and we went

into Father's room. I swallowed as I looked at hing, still unconscious on the bed. He looked so frail now, and it shook me to my core. Father had always been so solid all my life sat down in a chair next to his bed, my nails sinking into the arms. Rage pay

filled me. I would make Brange

for this! I wanted to kill him. I wanted

to wrap my hands around his neck

and squeeze until he was as weak

and frail as Father was now.

"Breath, Nic," Dean told me, looking worried. "We'll find him, and he'll be punished for this, okay?"

I stared at him, bewildered. How did he do that? "Yeah, well right now I think I'd rather hurt him, making him suffer like he's made Father suffer than punish him."

"I figured," Dean said with a half smile. "But that's just the anger talking right now. Douche, coward, and all around scum of the world, the worm is still your brother, Nic, and you wouldn't feel good about yourself if you did that."

Oh, I think I would. "Perhaps you don't know me as well as you think," I replied.

"No, he's right," Father's voice said, in a croaky, rough sound.

"Father," I cried out, scooting to the edge of the seat. I took his hand in mine. "How are you feeling? You need anything-water, pain meds?"

He shook his head. "Listen to the boy," he told me instead. "For a fool and clown, he knows what he's talking about." Dean laughed, his half smile growing an inch. I simply stared at him, not sure what to say. What had Dean been saying to Father before Brandon's attack?

"Father, Brandon didn't just attack you. He made yo—"

"I know," Father said. His frown seemed to pull his whole face downward. "None of this would've ever happened if your mother survived. She...she always knew what to say and what to do in any situation. Your mother understood people so much better than I ever could. She would've never failed him or you like I have."

"Don't say that Father. You didn't-"

"Don't do that shit, Girl," Father

snapped. "I failed you by allowing you to believe you needed to be my lost son. failed you when I got between you and the clown here, and I failed you by allowing Brandon to play alpha." I swallowed, looking down at my lap. He was right, but it felt wrong to say it now, now that he'd lost so much. "So how bad am I?"

"Well, you're alive so not as bad as it could be," Dean said, and then explained what the doctor had told us. As he went on, Father's expression hardened and twisted into a mix of anguish, shame, and anger. I expected him to shout, throw something, and probably take back everything even somewhat nice that he'd ever said about Brandon.

Instead, he sighed and seemed to deflate. "Well shit," he said with another sigh. "This is it. After everything, this is how I lose it all."

"Father, you don't have to lose it all," I said, gripping the arms of my chair tight. I had to give Father some hope, or I was afraid of what might happen to him.

"You can work with Antoine," Dean said. "Like we were talking about before."

Father scoffed then winced. "I'm his competition. He'd never work with me. Not to mention I'm a weak, old man."

"He didn't seem opposed to the

idea," I told him. "And he's going to

need help. The man is an alpha, but I don't he wasn't an alpha in his old pack. He's alone, besides his mate, and he desperately wants to protect her and his unborn child. He't need someone to teach him the ropes, yet not be a threat to his position. You can model him into a good alpha. It's your chance for a do-over."

He grunted, but Father said nothing more. He seemed to be considering it, and I considered that a victory for now.

"How about we let you get some rest, digest everything, and we'll talk about this later," Dean suggested.

Father nodded. "Yes, we'll talk tomorrow."