Full moon tonight, as bright as the sun itself, and yet, I still need my headlights on. Lydia Martin muttered this peevishly to herself as she drove home, wishing that the laws could make exceptions for bright nights. Having her headlights on in the wake of a full moon seemed like a waste of energy, but laws were laws, she thought. Summer vacation had been dull and uneventful, mostly filled with mindless shopping, therapy appointments that her mother scheduled profusely for her, and occasional hangouts with her friend, Allison Argent. Last school year had been a disaster, what with the supernatural activity—-complete reawakening for her scientific mind—-all around Beacon Hills, the death and complete unexpected resurrection of her now ex boyfriend, Jackson Whittemore. Turns out he had been a supernatural creature called a "kanima" for a few months, a creature reptilian in appearance, complete with a tail, claws, fangs, and glowing eyes like slits. He had been under the control of now-dead classmate, Matt, who had wanted revenge against his former teammates for almost drowning him. Beacon Hills, she now knew, was an epicenter of unreal events, with all manner of supernatural creatures imaginable, including werewolves. She had been forced into that world and had spent a good chunk of her summer being reeducated by Allison on the intricacies of this new world. Allison had insisted on this because Lydia had had a mysterious connection to Peter Hale-defiled, evil Alpha werewolf extraordinaire-for a few months. He had attacked her on the lacrosse field in sophomore year during the school dance, giving her the bite that had been expected to turn her into a werewolf; nothing had happened immediately. Instead, she had made a seemingly full recovery, only to fall under Peter's undead influence two months afterward. His nephew, Derek Hale, had killed him a few days after he bit her to gain Peter's Alpha power and rid the town of his evil schemes. Peter, it turned out, had not given up when death came to him. He had infiltrated Lydia's life and sanity in order to return to the land of the living. She had had hallucinations and nightmares that had led to her performing a ritual under his influence to bring him back.
All in all, last year had been a rude, violent, and overwhelming wake-up call. Reality had switched outfits almost overnight, and her mental stability had been suffering for a while. This hadn't helped her mother, who had already suffered a divorce and was parenting Lydia the majority of the time. She already had enough to deal with without fretting over Lydia's mental health twenty-four-seven. Lydia had tried to reassure her that she was fine, but it was like drilling through a titanium wall. Her mother was barely allowing her to return to school tomorrow without taking a pill cocktail, but Lydia had fought back until she was allowed to go with some of her own free will.
So here she was now, driving down the dark road to her house, enjoying the last day of her summer freedom, while trying not to think about how she was going to face her friends tomorrow. She had not spoken to her friend Stiles-God, what a name, she had never understood his preference for it-since the night of Jackson's rebirth, and she was dreading the wave of Adderall-fueled questions that would surely be coming for her from him tomorrow. She had wanted to ease into this frighteningly new and crazy world, not be thrown in head first, but thanks to Mr. Psycho Alpha, Peter Hale, she was in the deep end over her head. She had suspected from the start that she had not emerged completely normal from her violent encounter with him. But she didn't want to think about that now and jinx herself for tomorrow. There was enough going on at that school without her "mentally unstable" help.
She was so distracted by her musings, too deep in her delirium, that she did not immediately register the deer running full tilt toward her car from down the road in front of her. All she had time to do was look up and scream before it crashed headlong into the windshield. Still screaming, she slammed on the brake in time to stop the deer's antlers from spearing her like a piece of meat on a fork. Then she just sat there, frozen in shock, feeling twinges of pain erupt in her hands from where shards of the windshield had flown across them. After a few moments, her brain unfroze and started processing information again. She checked her mirrors to find that, thankfully, she was the only one on this road at this time of night. Not surprising, considering that it was eleven o'clock on a Sunday night on a quiet road. Or, at least, she thought she was the only one. She closed her eyes to try and calm herself enough to logically think about what to do, tuning out the rest of her senses until she was mentally competent again. She did not immediately register the sound of her door opening a couple minutes later, the voice calling her name, or the form crouched a foot away from her face. So of course, when she tuned back in a few seconds later, and opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a face staring at her. Panic erupted in her brain for the second time in five minutes, and she opened her mouth to scream again. Before it had reached her throat however, a hand closed over her mouth to stop it.
"I really hope you don't plan on doing that again," came a deep, vaguely familiar voice."You almost blew out my eardrums the first time and I could have wrecked my car."
Eyes wide with fear and astonishment, Lydia's vision took a second to focus on the face in front of her. Then she could see its features, clearly male, rugged, and rather dark. Deep green eyes were set under dark, furrowed eyebrows, and filled with a glint of irritation. Dark brown hair, disheveled from lack of a good comb, was short and spiky, coming down on the sides to meet equally dark sideburns. These framed high cheekbones and wrapped around a hard-set mouth. The hand that covered her mouth smelled strongly of leather, which made sense when she registered that the person was wearing a leather jacket, old and worn with age.
He was sitting on the bottom of the door frame, at eye level with the steering wheel, and looking up at her a bit expectantly. She realized he was waiting for her to make some kind of acknowledgement at his words, and his expression indicated his annoyance at her apparent lack of communication skills. Furious both with herself and him, she wrenched her face out of his grasp and shot him a haughty look. He returned it with a smirk and lowered his hand. He regarded the smashed windshield and the deer's body with a concerned frown, then got up and walked around to inspect the deer closer. Lydia watched him with a bewildered expression as he began to press his fingers in and around the deer's neck, even laying his hands flat on it, until she realized that he might be checking for a pulse; that was the logical explanation. Tearing her eyes away from him, she grabbed her purse and carefully extracated herself from the car, wincing as her hands protested at the movement. However, once she had stood up, her head spun wildly and she would have collapsed back into the wreck if the man hadn't caught her and propped her up against the passenger side door. She hadn't even seen him move over here. His hands remained on her shoulders, and she realized she had her knees bent and would be sitting on the filthy asphalt if he wasn't holding her up. Her strength was long-since spent and she was a tiny bit grateful for his help, despite her dislike for his sarcastic attitude. She put both hands on her head to stop the world from spinning, not caring if she got the blood from them in her hair. It would wash out easily enough.
"You ok?" the man said abruptly, the first helpful thing he had said to her. The statement did not reach his eyes, which were still hard and stolid, betraying none of the concern that his voice had held in that statement.
"As well as can be expected after being nearly speared by a crazed deer running into your car in the middle of the night," she replied, her tone anything but friendly since she still didn't know who the man was, even though he acted like he knew her. She decided to question him, since the reputation of strange men alone with girls in the middle of the night was less than pleasant, and she wasn't about to be one of those girls that fell victim to it.
"I'm sorry, do I know you," she asked him shrewdly, watching him carefully for any signs of lying. A flicker of something passed behind his eyes and then, without removing his hands from her hands from her shoulders, replied,
"Unfortunately, you do, Lydia Martin, and if you wracked your brains carefully enough, you would remember exactly why we know each other and through what circumstances."
Shocked at the fact that he knew her full name and confused as to why he had replied with such anger in his voice, she did as he asked and tried to remember. Unfortunately, her mind was too jumbled to form any clear memory and she shrugged an apology. He dryly at her, as if her were unimpressed by her actions.
"Perhaps this will jog your memory," he said quietly, closing his eyes and then reopening them slowly. The dark green had vanished, replaced instead by bright, glowing red orbs that pierced the darkest corners of her mind and awakened horrible memories.
In her mind's eye, she could see herself sitting in her car outside a movie rental shop, screaming in fright as a huge, dark shape with glowing red eyes shot out through the shop windows and loped off around her car toward the forest. She saw herself dragged across a lacrosse field by Peter, a searing pain awakening at her side as his fangs sank into her flesh. She saw herself as a possessed servant of the previously dead Peter, marching through an abandoned train station to throw purple powder into a man's face and seeing him collapse at her feet. She remembered dragging him to the old ruin of the Hale house in middle of the woods, guided by the vibrant light of the full moon, and setting him in front of a hole set in the middle of the ripped-up floorboards. She saw the hands that whipped up out of that hole to sink its claws into the man's arm and she also saw again the way his eyes had burned red, the faded away as the hands stole his strength. The worst memory after that, the memory of Peter climbing out of the hole, reborn, and a mad glint in his eyes.
Her consciousness tunneled fast out of memory hole and back to the pair of red eyes looking at her now. She suddenly realized who this man in front her was, and it did not improve the situation. This was Derek Hale, nephew of the deranged Peter Hale, and resident sourwolf of Beacon Hills according to Stiles, whom she remembered having a conversation with only a few months ago about this particular person. He had described Derek as grumpy, sarcastic, scary, and unhelpful, always showing up out of nowhere and scaring the pants off him and his best friend Scott. He had also mentioned that Derek was the reason that Peter had died in the first place and had only killed him to steal his power as an Alpha. Since she didn't know whether that was true or not, she knew enough not to go trusting him tonight, not even after he had helped her.
His family had been the town mystery after most of them had burned to death in a fire many years ago, and the smoking ruin of the huge mansion had been all that was left, along with Derek, his two sisters, and Peter. Peter having miraculously survived the fire and put in a six-year coma while Derek and his sisters had happened to be in school at the time. She didn't trust someone who had been wandering around on his own for a few years with no one to talk to. Especially not now on a dark road in the middle of the night.
She realized suddenly that he had been holding her up for the past few minutes, and that his eyes still glowed red, gauging her reaction to his sudden transmutation. She wrenched her gaze and her shoulders away from him, having found the strength to hold herself up. Derek blinked, the glow disappearing from his eyes as they resumed their usual green surliness, and crossed his arms. Uncomfortable, Lydia turned to get in her car and drive away, forgetting about the accident that had occured until this moment.
"Great, just great," she muttered under her breath, thinking that her mother was probably staying up to worry about why Lydia wasn't back yet. She could make up an excuse that she was going to Allison's house for a last-day-of-summer sleepover, but she couldn't actually go there because A: she didn't have a functioning car, and B: Allison and her father probably wouldn't take kindly to being woken up at this hour. Neither would Stiles or Scott, seeing that Stiles already had enough issues getting to sleep on a normal night, and Scott usually wanted a full night's sleep before big days.
At the precise moment that she came to this unfortunate conclusion, Derek, who had been standing there silently, cleared his throat loudly.
"Nowhere to go, I see," he said amusedly, smirking at her again as if he had read her mind. If she had a better reputation to attach to him at this moment, she would have thought he wouldn't look out of place in a seraph, what with his rugged features and amused expression. Maybe an archangel. If he wasn't so surly all the time, he could actually be a nice person.
"No, I don't, thanks for asking," she replied, irritated at his lack of assistance, "Now if you're not going to help me with that issue, then you can be nice and call the police to get them to clean up this mess. They'll probably be more helpful than you."
He regarded her with a cold expression then, and she was afraid that she'd gone too far.
"How about you notify them instead? I don't have the best record in their books. And as for helping you, I was actually considering offering you a ride and a place to stay. But I won't if you're going to be all bratty about it," he said stiffly, still fixing her with a piercing glare.
She blinked, surprised by this un-Derek-like gesture, as what she'd heard from Stiles about him didn't suggest that he'd actually offer to help her, especially when she hardly knew him. She'd also heard that he didn't exactly play well with strangers.
"If you do happen to accept my help, start walking back the way you drove after you call the police, and I will meet you down there. If not, happy travels," Derek said in a gruff voice, and Lydia could see that for a moment, even he was surprised at his decision to help her. Then the moment was gone and he turned and walked into the woods surrounding the road. He disappeared so fast, it took a minute for her to register that he had spoken. Then she shook herself out of it and said quietly to herself,
"I must be crazy to do this. Crazy! Oh my god, my mother would freak out if she knew that I'm going to follow a strange man down a road in the middle of the night. Lydia, you've lost it!"
But she steeled herself and called the police before she changed her mind, explaining what happened. She made up some story about how a friend would pick her up before they got here. She assured the police officer on the phone that she was unhurt (lie) and that she was with someone she trusted (another lie). Hanging up, she dialed her mother's number, muttering again about how crazy this was. She could have sworn she heard a muffled laugh in the trees across the road, but then her mother picked up and it was chased from her mind. Her mother was frantic and inquired about her "whereabouts at this ungodly hour", but Lydia managed to fend her off and convince her she was just sleeping over at Allison's. She made it sound like Allison was already asleep and she, Lydia, had just been about to drift off when remembered to call her mother. Finally, her mother was reassured, and Lydia hung up, sighing in relief. She then set her sights on the dark road behind her car where Derek had told her to walk. She was a little perplexed as to why he hadn't driven up to her car where he found her, but, she thought resignedly, beggars couldn't be choosers.
It was a bit chilly out, as fall was approaching and the winds were picking up in the evenings, so Lydia wrapped her arms around herself and started the walk down the road. The cops would be here in a few minutes, and she really didn't want to stay here and be interrogated about what had happened. She also didn't want to rely on Derek to get her out of this mess. But Stiles and Scott trusted him, and if Scott trusted him, he must be a reliable ally of some sort, as surly and uninviting as his demeanor was. So she stayed put with her goal of meeting him wherever he was supposed to pop up at. She reached the curve of the road and was about to keep going when she heard a rustle behind her. She froze.
"Don't scream, it's me," came the quiet voice inches away from her right ear. She very nearly did scream, but put a hand up to her mouth to prevent it and spun around to face Derek.
"What the hell? If you don't want me to scream, don't scare me like that, stealth-wolf," she exclaimed indignantly, seeing that ever-present smirk on his face again.
"Hmm, stealth-wolf. That's a new one," Derek mused, "Still, better than the stupid one Stiles gave me. Sourwolf. How rude. Well, he's not wrong, I guess."
Lydia thought she heard a twinge of sadness in his tone, but still silently agreed with Stiles. That name pretty much summed Derek Hale up in one word.
"C'mon, smart girl. We're going to walk just inside the trees so that we can't be seen by the police when they pass by. My car is in an old driveway a little ways up."
Derek turned and walked into the forest, stopping just about two or three trees in and turning left. She hurried after him, cursing as she stumbled over a hidden tree root.
"Is this really necessary? Why couldn't you have just parked your car on the shoulder like a normal person? And how did you find me anyway? There's no one out here at this time of night. And how can you see anything out he-,"
Her rant was cut short as Derek whirled around to face her, and she saw just how he could see in the dark. His eyes-as red as blood and as bright as the moon they had left behind in the sky-had made their second appearance tonight. Right now, they were hardened into a glare in her direction, presumably annoyed at her bombarding questions at him.
"Do you ever shut up? I thought you were supposed to be smart. We're supposed to not be found, remember?" Derek said sharply. Then, seeing her look down at her feet in embarrassment, his expression softened slightly and he sighed resolutely.
"Sorry, just got ahead of myself. Here," he said in a softer tone, holding out his arm to her, "I can help you navigate through here if you would like. I forgot that not everyone has built-in night vision."
Lydia looked back up at him, eyes shining with amazement at this sudden change of tone. She seemed to steel herself and then walked forward to grasp his arm, but whipped it back with a hiss of pain as she realized that she still had the injuries from the wreck. Derek looked down at them with a suddenly concerned expression, and asked, "May I?"
She nodded uncertainly, not sure what he intended to do. He took one hand in both of his own, careful not to cause her further pain. After a second, she gasped under her breath as his hand veins turned black as something was transferred through them, and the direction that they were traveling made it look like the substance was coming from her hand.
"Don't freak out, it's just how our kind help ease the pain and suffering of others. Actual wolves sometimes give bodily contact with injured members of the pack to help them heal. It's just another added bonus feature for us," Derek said, the last part sounding bitter. Lydia had no clue as to why he would be bitter about it. If she could do this, she could have eased her mother's stress long ago. Derek did the same with her other hand. This one was bit more painful than the first one for her, and as he repeated the process, she saw him shift slightly, as if in discomfort.
A thought occurred to her.
"Wait, do you actually feel the pain that you take?" she asked him worriedly.
"Well, yeah, that's kind of the point of this. I'm basically empathizing with you, in a way," he said, confirming her suspicions. Is that why he had been bitter about it? She suspected that there was probably more to it than that.
Derek finished taking her pain away, and again offered her his arm for guidance. This time, she took it without hesitation, and he set off through the trees, trying to find the path with the least interruptions. They both heard the police cruiser go by, but Derek didn't stop walking until they had reached the place where he had parked his car. It was parked a little haphazardly and she had no idea why that would be.
For someone who doesn't want to be recognized by police, his car is anything but indiscriminate, Lydia thought as the car came into view with aid from the moon that was able to peek through the clearing. It was a shiny black Camaro, obviously loved and well-cared for by Derek, as there was barely a smudge to be seen on its surface. Lydia must have been staring at it too much because Derek-for the second time that night-seemed to read her mind.
"I know, it's not the subtle car on the world, but it's fast and I both need and like fast. It's what I'm used to. And the color helps to not be seen at night," he said, seeming to answer every single one of her mental questions. She shivered, both from cold and the feeling she felt when he read her mind like that. It was just a bit creepy.
"Get in and I'll turn the heater on. I didn't notice it was a bit cold out, being what I am," Derek said, appearing to have felt her shiver next to him.
They both climbed in, the car already surprisingly warm, considering the state of the temperature outside. Derek turned the heater on, filling the car with warmer air, and Lydia settled into the leather seat, trying hard to relax. She was more than slightly hesitant about getting into Derek Hale's car and it must have showed on her face. She heard Derek sigh quietly.
"Don't worry, I'm not a murdering psychopath like my deranged uncle. I'm not going to kidnap you against your will or anything. I'm just taking you to a safe place, alright? If that doesn't reassure you, keep in mind that Stiles, Scott, and your hunter friend, Argent, know how to find me and they will protect you at all odds. They would probably kill me if I did anything incriminating to you, which I won't. So please, don't be afraid. And for your information, your panicked heartbeat is really distracting me. I wouldn't want to crash the car."
Lydia realized that this was probably the most Derek had ever said in one breath to her at one time. She looked over at him and saw that he seemed to realize the same thing. He cleared his throat and started the car, backing out of the old driveway to the actual road in order to avoid her gaze on him. She was slightly unsettled by the fact that he could actually hear her heartbeat so clearly, but she was reassured by his other words nonetheless. She smiled to herself as she pictured Stiles coming to her defense if Derek hurt her. He'd probably grab his metal baseball bat and beat Derek within an inch of his life. She realized then that Stiles probably didn't fully trust Derek either, and it was probably the reason he was so tense when that subject came up. The fact that Derek's uncle had ravaged her on a lacrosse field probably didn't help either. But she was trying to hard not to judge Derek solely on that fact alone, and with this thought in mind, she slowed her breathing and relaxed as the Camaro started down the main road. She saw Derek's hands relax a bit on the steering wheel and knew that her heartbeat was now slightly less distracting. A sudden thought occurred to her.
" Is it the full moon? Is that why you're so distracted by my heartbeat?" she inquired. "Sorry if that seems like a stupid question to you. I only just became privy to all the supernatural secrets around here."
She saw him smile slightly at her simple question, but he answered her nonetheless.
"It's not a stupid question, smart girl, it's one that comes from a simple lack of information. To put it simply, yes, your heartbeat is more distracting during a full moon. My senses are all dialed up to ten when it's out. However, being as experienced and self-controlled as I am, it is only slightly more so than if it wasn't out. We, werewolves I mean, can hear heartbeats on regular days if we concentrate a bit. We just don't have to concentrate if there is a full moon out."
Lydia thought that it actually made sense, even if it was a supernatural thing and not at all scientifically natural.
"How did you not go crazy at school? You know, with all those people in an enclosed space?" she asked curiously.
She thought she saw a flicker of sadness flit across his face before he answered.
"I nearly did. I almost lost my mind some days. The locker room after basketball practice had to be my refuge on the days I just couldn't hold in my anger. On full moons, the heartbeats, all the sounds, the smells; every sense was on fire and the stimulation would come in droves to my brain. You have no idea how many times I destroyed the inside of my hands and mouth from piercing them with my nails or teeth in concentration. I had to hold down the monster so that s-that people wouldn't get hurt."
Derek seemed to be fighting with himself a little, and Lydia had missed not missed his stumble in the last sentence. She wondered what he had actually meant to say and had a sneaking suspicion that nobody knew about it at all. Instead, she asked him something that she had also been wondering about when he had been explaining.
"You coped with it alone? At that age?"
She found it hard to believe that Derek had made it through high school without being discovered with no help whatsoever. However, she was not expecting his answer at all . Derek seemed to be reluctant to answer at all, but eventually he caved and said, "Before you freak out and start making accusations, this was back when we were both young and trying to survive. I was taking any help I could get from my family."
"Your family? Wait, you don't mean-,"
"Peter? Yeah, unfortunately, I do. If I could go back in time and change that, I would. He blinded me from his real cause and that blind trust cost me. I have to live with that every day."
Derek's expression was borderline depressing, and Lydia's view of him had changed faster in the past twenty minutes than she would have thought possible. She was also pretty sure that Derek had never been this truthful with anybody in his life (that she was aware of anyway). That would explain his expression changing to one of surprise and slightly dazed right now. She decided not to press him for any more life stories, as she didn't want to make him closed off, which she had heard was easy to do. So she changed the subject.
"Where are we going, anyway? I don't think I recognize this street."
She peered out the window and saw that they were heading towards the abandoned warehouse and apartment district. Here, there were only a few remaining places that were habitable, and she was unsure of how Derek considered this a safe place.
"You'll see when we get there. I promise it's safe, don't worry," Derek said, considerably more tuned in to the present than he was a few minutes ago. He seemed to have flipped a switch and was now back to being surly and lifeless. Lydia sighed internally. This was going to be a long night if she couldn't make conversation with him. But she just decided to go with it until they got to...well, wherever they were going.
Ten minutes later, they pulled in front of the tallest stone building Lydia had ever seen in person. When she opened the door and looked up, she could see a huge glass window at the top and the roof was styled a bit like an old Roman building. Still, the setting was very Derek-like, dark and creepy, and a little bit of scary mixed in. Charming, she thought sarcastically, this looks totally safe. But she forced down her knee-jerk judgement despite herself.
"This way," Derek said quietly, to her right again and appearing just as suddenly as he did on the road. Then he turned and set off quickly to the base of the building, not looking back to see if she was following him. Wonder if he actually cares, she thought suddenly to herself, then mentally cursed. Don't give judgement, Lydia, c'mon. Be the better person. She must really be crazy if she was talking to herself this much, she concluded resignedly, and hurried after Derek, who was rapidly disappearing in the shadow of the building. They took an old, rusty elevator up all the way to the top, and walked a short way to stand in front of what must have been the biggest metal door in the world. Derek took hold of the long handle and yanked it to the left, hard. It slid open with a protesting sound of metal on metal, which made Lydia cringe, and then she was left standing in the doorway, too amazed to enter the room beyond.
Room was an understatement though, she thought as she peered around at the space in front of her. There were four huge wooden posts going up to what must have been a twenty-foot ceiling. An old elevator box was visible in the far right corner, blocked with a heavy metal chain linked through its grilles. The right hand wall was knocked in right in the center of it, and it formed a huge arching hole. Its purpose, Lydia couldn't possibly fathom. To the left was a long, blue velvet couch against the wall, in front of which was a highly polished wooden coffee table. The wood quality of it was incredible considering its surroundings, and could only be old-fashioned Italian-made. There were a few steps leading down from the metal door, a good fifteen to twenty-foot diameter floor, and then, directly across from her, was the huge window she had seen from below. In front of it was a long wooden table with one chair behind it on the window side. In the far left corner was a narrow, metal spiral staircase that led up to a second level. How big that level was, Lydia couldn't guess from here. And finally, in the middle of the room but a bit to the right, was a huge master bed. Gray silk sheets covered its massive surface. Why one person needed all this space, Lydia didn't know, but she could see Derek's subtle influence in every aspect of the room, from the dark, muted colors, to the lack of purely personal touches. It was actually kind of pleasing to look at, she thought. She wouldn't live here herself, but she could see why someone like Derek would. It was quiet and undistracting, a good place to think when you didn't have to be anywhere.
Derek had planted himself on the couch, sitting with his legs on the table and slouched back on the cushions with his arms crossed and his eyes closed.
"You can sleep on the bed if you want. Please tell me you don't snore," he said, not bothering to open his eyes to see whether she had come in (she hadn't).
Lydia huffed angrily as she strode briskly into the room and threw her purse on the bed. She turned around to face Derek and found that his mouth was curved into an amused smile at her action, which he must have heard. But she was in no state of mind to play exhausted damsel-in-distress tonight. Not anymore. Derek was going to explain just how he had happened to find her and why he had decided to help her when she knew for a fact that he didn't go around helping people in the middle of the night. So she marched straight over to where he sat "sleeping" on the couch, planted her fists on her hips, and determinedly nudged his legs to get his attention. He opened one eye, saw her standing there with an annoyed expression and body language, then closed it again.
"Can I help you?" he said patronizingly, his expression perfectly neutral, which made her even more irritated at his lack of reaction.
"Explain yourself, stealth-wolf. How the hell did you find me on that road at eleven o'clock on a Sunday night? I was nowhere near anybody, nor any house whatsoever. I was a ways away from the nearest building! So how did you find me and why did you help me?"
Breathing heavily, Lydia sat down on the coffee table, and, Italian-made or not, she was staying there until she got answers. She didn't care how stubborn Derek Hale posed to be. She would out-match him instantly, for she had spent her whole life being stubborn, forcing her intelligent side down to climb her way up to the top of the popularity pole in school to be accepted and get friends. She would sit here until he talked, whether it be now or in an hour. She was done with secrets, supernatural or not.
However, apparently Derek thought that two could play at her game because he made no move to speak or looked like he was in any way motivated to do so. She determinedly changed tactic. She got up and instead of sitting on any piece of furniture, she sat directly on top of his legs that were stretched across the coffee table. It worked. Derek opened both eyes this time and glared at her. When she didn't move, he attempted to gently nudge her off. She held onto his legs and the table for balance and stared straight ahead at the door, waiting for her point to sink in.
"Are all humans this infuriating?" came the irritated growl from the couch. She grinned. So Stiles annoyed him too, did he? Renewed, she flipped her strawberry blonde hair out of her face and turned in his direction. This time, it was her turn to smirk. Derek growled under his breath and then, when that didn't scare her away, finally seemed to give in to her determination.
"Fine. If I explain, will you get off?" he said roughly, indicating that he clearly didn't like to be touched and wanted it over.
"Yep," she replied, and hopped off his legs to sit on the table again. She sat cross-legged this time, and fixed Derek with an expectant look, waiting for him to begin. Derek gave her an exasperated look and rolled his eyes.
"Just for your information, you probably won't like what's coming, and when I'm done, don't say I didn't warn you."
Derek paused and appraised her expression, which had turned to one of bewilderment at his words. Lydia's mind had gone on the defensive. What could possibly be bad about a simple explanation? Then she remembered that this was stealth-wolf Derek Hale and the supernatural world she was facing, and that answered her question immediately.
"Alright, I've been warned. Start talking," she said. He shot her another glare and then took a breath reluctantly.
" To start off, the answer to your first question is sort of complicated, but I'll try to make it understandable for you. Basically, I was driving around with the windows cracked, trying to catch a scent that told me the whereabouts of a new werewolf pack I discovered a few days ago. We get random packs coming through Beacon Hills from time to time, and I being the resident Alpha, wanted to check for threats. I hope that explains why I was way out there. As for why it was so late, do you see anything else I could do instead? Peter lives downtown now, thanks to you, and he's not one for polite conversation, not that I would want to talk to my undead uncle. The other part to how I found you would have to be that scream of yours. Ten times as loud as a police siren and worse in the dead of night, especially with the full moon. My hearing was cranked up to full power. I would have crashed into a tree if I didn't possess supernatural reflexes. It pierced my head like bullet. Once I had the car parked, I had to sit in agony for a few minutes to dim the pain and ringing in my ears. Now, here's the part you won't like. Normal humans can't scream even close to that volume, even on a full moon. There is only one being in the unnatural world who is able to have that much of an impact on a supernatural creature like. It's not a good thing and I won't expect you to believe me. But I have a strong suspicion that Peter's bite changed you in a way that is unapparent from the outside and I also believe that the transformation does not require your body to be susceptible to the same weaknesses as other supernaturals. I believe, Lydia, that you just might have become a wailing woman. The banshee."
The full impact of Derek's words took a few seconds to sink in, and when it did, Lydia's mouth went dry, all annoyance at Derek forgotten, replaced with fear. A banshee? How the hell was that even possible, and why had it only become apparent now? Peter had bitten her nearly a year ago, and from what she knew, these transformations didn't exactly stay dormant for months on end. She looked up at Derek, who seemed to be primed for an explosion of some sort, jaw muscles tensed and hands clenched. She realized he was expecting her to explode in reaction to his words, to call him insane or something.
"You see now why I was hesitant to tell you? Lydia, I know that you've already been overloaded with new, impossible information recently, and I didn't want to drive you completely crazy. But I need you to understand what you are facing here, for your protection and your friends'. Will you allow me to explain?" Derek asked cautiously.
Lydia nodded slowly, thinking that it was probably better to have him explain than for her to come to wild conclusions herself.
They talked into the early hours of the morning, confusion becoming understanding and myth becoming reality for Lydia. Derek made her promise to tell Stiles, Scott, and mostly definitely their local supernatural expert, Deaton, the man who had helped them cath Jackson. He would definitely know how to help her in a way that Derek couldn't, what with Derek's limited experience and knowledge of banshees.
"After all, they are incredibly rare and do not have a supernatural signature as potent as that of a werewolf," he explained to Lydia. She nodded, then looked over her shoulder at the window, noticing sunrise approaching. She realized there were only a few hours until school was supposed to start and sighed. This was going to be an interesting day.
Her phone buzzed from inside her purse across the room, startling them both. Lydia got up to see who it was. Her mother had apparently decided to go for a recovery trip to San Francisco for a week, and had included a strict reminder for Lydia to take her stress pills. She sighed in relief. She didn't have to deal with her mother for a week, which was just as well, seeing as all these other things were going to need her undivided attention.
"Need a ride to school?"
Derek's voice startled her out of her musings. He had stood up and was straightening his jacket.
"That would be great. Could we stop at my house first? I need to change clothes and get my stuff," she said, and then added, "Don't worry, my mother isn't home right now."
Derek smiled slightly at this additional information, then realized why she had added it. She was adjusting to his comfort level, his wish to remain hidden from the world's eyes. She's not as snobby as I'd thought, he concluded.
Lydia had reached a similar conclusion in this moment as well. She now knew that her perceptions about Derek were not all true, and that one simply needed to talk and get to know the guy to get him to climb out of his surly shadows.
They both looked up at each other at the same time, smiling when their gazes met in friendly understanding. Then Lydia did something that neither of them expected, She walked across the room and wrapped her arms around his burly frame, trying to put her acceptance and understanding of him into this embrace. Derek was extremely caught off guard, his arms hanging limply at his sides and his eyes looking down at her in shock. Then he devised the meaning behind this unexpected gesture. She was thanking him for sharing a secret with her and also showing that she trusted him. He smiled and returned the embrace, engulfing her small frame with his own arms. In that moment, it seemed as though a million barriers had been broken. The town recluse and the high school's most popular and intelligent student, two opposite sides of the spectrum, realizing that the other was just as misunderstood as they were. Now, no more.