Title: Huérfana
Summary: Erica breaks.
Character(s): Erica, Derek
"Orphan" because obviously. Character death, mentioned sexual relations. Like, two swearwords. Enjoy :)
Unrelated question: thoughts on capitalization? I like writing without it for a stylistic approach but I understand those who don't. Opinions?


She's too young, and it is by too much. They meet and it's a frenzy, his sexualizing of his victim so damning, so perfect, that when she struts her stuff the next day only to crowd into his car six periods early, well, he's the only one to blame.

She is fiery and full of promise, like that Lydia girl everyone seems to be in love with, even Isaac with his quiet mouth and knowing eyes. Where he stands a constant presence Erica will not, will flit in and out being as she knocks a person down peg by peg - or in Stiles' case, using an engine part. She offers to kiss it better later, smirking with all her teeth when Stiles' pulse jumps, the only thing saving him being the lack of his dilating eyes. He's a smart kid.

But she is, too.

Her parents note this change, the hyperactive reactions their daughter has adopted, the too-tight clothes and short temper. But Daddy's always working and Mother is depressed, both of them at a loss at how to deal with this poor child that has become a hoodlum. So they don't, and Erica fucks Isaac because, why not? He's there and when he digs his nails into her hips she just runs her fingers over the scabs the next day, licks her lips when she catches Boyd's amused glance.

Isaac is abashed afterwards, promises it won't happen again. "And if I want it to?" she says, staring at his mouth. He laughs. She wants to lick his teeth. "Find yourself a new toy," he tells her, and then goes back to training with Derek.

Derek is not impressed with her, makes her train twice as hard, but she perseveres, careful not to touch him unless it's with the intention to hurt, because she'd be lying if she said the sting of rejection from that training day kiss didn't still ache when she let herself think about it. He notices, of course, but doesn't change his course, blocks turning sharper because he knows what she's doing, even when she and Boyd run away that night.

He gets her back, of course, slams her to the ground when she fights, PTSD and adrenaline making the air taste bitter, tangy in his mouth. His sinuses are killing him but her little whimpers make the alpha in him keen, make him want to curl up with her and comfort her like Laura would have, were she still around.

"Derek," she cries, coming back to herself, and she clings to him, gasps, "Boyd," but all Derek can do is shake his head, hide his face in her neck. Derek can't be a hero; she doesn't touch anyone for a long time after.

It's during the winter months that she crawls into bed with him, curls against his chest and asks - demands - what tomorrow will bring her, what she and Isaac should do, what Peter expects of her. They're fighting to survive, scrabbling for purchase when all they can do is hope that the fall is long enough for them to find a way out. Peter smirks at them the next day, smelling his nephew on the girl and vice-versa, and Isaac looks stony, watches her with weary eyes while she avoids his gaze.

"What are you doing?" he asks her later, when they are taking an SAT prep class that Peter insisted they take. Stiles is sitting behind them, and he peeks over. "Trouble in paradise?" he asks, and Isaac ignores him. She says, "There never was a paradise," and for the first time in anyone's memory Stiles is quiet the rest of class.

It becomes habit, and there is no change. Derek brought this upon himself, responsible for the rebuilding and then destruction of this girl, this pretty young thing that has no one to turn to, Boyd dead and Scott still avoiding them, everyone struggling. Peter is amused and tells her so, cornering her one starving day and saying, "He will never fall in love again," and she stares at him for too long and says, "I don't believe in love."

"Shame," he says, "those are the kind that always fall the quickest." He goes away after that, north to Canada, claiming he needs to recover something from a pack in Nunavut. When Scott raises the question - because the kid is still shit at anything academic - Derek snorts, says, "He had a woman up there a long time ago. No doubt she's married by now."

"Wolf?" Isaac says, and Derek frowns. "Human."

Things don't get better. They don't get worse, but if barely scraping by gets tiring after a few weeks then what do months feel like? Erica watches the bags beneath Derek's eyes get darker, watches the thinness in Isaac's face exaggerate, looks in the mirror and sees too much bone. Stiles starts stopping by with groceries, kerosene, water. He touches her shoulder, "You can stop anytime."

"Stop by," she corrects him. He looks at her blankly. "My door's always open," and he turns away, says, "even my car door."

She wants to punch him, wants to unleash that wolf that Derek gave to her, but she doesn't. It would feel wrong, attacking this boy who dared to insult her family, who did it out of care for them. She remembers nearly loving him, remembers a few shared jokes about Marvel and DC, but that was before she left and before they took Boyd away. Boyd, who had only ever been good to her, the best friend she had had in her entire life. Boyd, whose body they couldn't even recover, whose death made her scream and throw herself into an icy river because she needed the pain to go away.

It didn't, but the anger in Derek's eyes made it almost worth it, if it hadn't been for the pity in everyone else's.

There is no salvation, she realizes, and God may exist but whatever love was promised has no doubt faded by now. There is nowhere left to turn to, only cold nights and runs and an empty house that Derek still won't fix for them. Won't fix for her. Erica is tired.

Allison is still gone and Scott is bitter. Stiles is as intelligent as ever, says he's looking at Cornell, but really what he said was, "I'm done with your West Coast bullshit, Derek," and New York is about as far as one can get from the alpha, making the East his promise land. It's funny, considering Manifest Destiny but if Erica and Stiles were going to be the only ones who laughed then she'll keep it to herself. Isaac is still quiet, and Erica still shares a bed with Derek at night, still tosses and turns until he wraps his arms around her, tangles their legs and whispers in her ear, pressed chest to back. She wants, sometimes, but it's been a long time and mostly she yearns for childhood.

"I will marry you one day," she tells him once, when the light slants past them, train cars empty and foreboding. He looks at her out of the corner of his eye and sees her move to him, not with lust but just as desperate, and all he can give her is fear, because he remembers what it was like to be a child and need something so badly that it hurt even to forget.