Title: Fear the Wooden Spoon

Author: Gemkat5

Genre: Teen Wolf

Pairing: Scott/Allison/Derek/Melissa+Stiles-NO slash.

Rating: T for my potty mouth/sexual intent

Spoilers: anything to current

Humor/angst/friendship/

Summary: Just an average day in Beacon Hills until a vampire shows up.

Disclaimer: The only thing I claim to own is the insane idea that formed this story. Everything else is borrowed.

A/N: Timeline? What timeline?

Melissa McCall took a long, hard, calming breath as she glanced towards the top of the stairs. She couldn't imagine what her son, Scott, and his friend, Derek, were arguing about, but it sounded very heated and disruptive. The distinct sound of glass smashing to the floor came from the kitchen followed by one her wooden chairs being splintered to bits.

"That's it!" she snarled with conviction, dropping the laundry basket to the floor she rushed down the steps towards the kitchen. She paused briefly to assess the damage, noticing one of the chairs lying on its side with a broken leg and a glass Pyrex bowl shattered on the floor. Her son had his hands around the other's neck while being held against the refrigerator by the front of his shirt.

"What, the hell are the two of you doing?!" she yelled venomously. She stormed over to the counter opposite them to grab a long wooden spoon as they pulled away from each other; Scott remained by the fridge as she advanced upon him while the other one moved around the table towards the corner by the sink. "I have had enough of the both of you constantly arguing and yelling at each other! Now you're breaking things!"

"Mom, it wasn't my fault, I swear!"

"No!" she barked, brandishing her wooden spoon in her son's face. "Howling in the middle of the night during a full moon isn't your fault. Smashing my dishes and breaking my furniture in the middle of the day is SO your fault! And you're going to pay for this, young man, do you hear me?"

"Yes, mom, we can hear you very clearly. I think half the town can hear you."

"Don't you get smart with me!" she yelled, thwacking him on the shoulder with the spoon.

"Ouw! Mom, that hurt!"

"Oh, spare me the dramatics. I've seen you get slammed into a stone wall from half across a room and walked it off like it was nothing!"

Scott opened his mouth to retort only to have the spoon thrust into his face threateningly. "Don't," his mom snapped before turning on Derek who had remained stock still. "As for you!" she continued, "Since you obviously don't need an invite to enter my house whenever you damn well please let me give you the update on house rules."

"You're thinking of vampires, mom."

"What?" she asked incredulously, turning her head to look at Scott, the wooden spoon still in mid-air pointing towards Derek.

"Vampires need to be invited in, not werewolves."

Her head snapped around to look at Derek with wide eyes. "There are vampires, too?"

Under different circumstances Derek might've found the situation a little more amusing. However, he wasn't feeling very amused at the moment. "Not that I know," he answered evenly. "Not here anyway."

"Not here, anyway?" she repeated with obvious difficulty then took a deep breath. Stepping closer to Derek she branded her wooden spoon with authority. "Well then I'll assume that if a vampire does ever come here, that you will kill it! You can do that, right?"

"Mom, please. He's…"

"Don't mom, me!" she shouted, snapping her head around to glare at her son. "You can't keep doing this in MY house!" Her gaze turned to bore into Derek's as she advanced on him, waving the spoon in his face. "I don't care that you are an alpha, or an immortal, or even a werewolf with a bad attitude; this is MY house, and in MY house, I'M the alpha! Got it!?"

"Got it." Derek replied deadpan, not letting his eyes waiver from hers as she stared him down in her ire.

"Hey!" Stiles greeted exuberantly, suddenly appearing in the kitchen doorway. "Oh!" he corrected at seeing Derek. "Whoa," he voiced at seeing Scott's mom welding the spoon. "What'd I miss?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Melissa murmured in defeat, sagging her shoulders while touching her forehead with her free hand. Tossing the wooden spoon haplessly onto the counter she threw her hands in the air. "Why me?" she asked rhetorically. Then, focusing on Stiles in particular she asked. "Why can't you meet at your house?"

"Uhm," Stiles voiced, "Because, he's mean…" He pointed at Derek. "and isn't supposed to be in my house… with my dad being sheriff… and all. Not that that stops him from sneaking into my room and scaring the piss out of me all of the time. It's just not… recommended. I'm going to shut up now."

"Why does everyone insist on coming here?!"

"I live here," Scott said defensively.

"I always come here," Stiles answered.

"They don't like my house," Derek stated in a low voice.

"Why? What's wrong with your house?" she asked accusingly of Derek.

"It's a burned shell," he answered evenly in a monotone voice, and leaned slightly forward as he looked her right in the eyes. "No windows. And, the roof leaks just a little bit when it rains."

Melissa cupped her hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp; her eyes grew wide at forgetting exactly where Derek Hale was from. But, not one to be perturbed she collected herself immediately. "Then I suggest you hire a contractor."

She turned around and headed for the doorway. "And the three of you better clean up this mess."

"What'd I do?!" Stiles yelped. "I wasn't even here!"

"You." Melissa addressed Stiles from the doorway. "Go upstairs and get the laundry I left in the hallway."

"Me?!" Stiles squelched. "Why me?! I didn't even…"

"Now!"

"Okay, okay! I'm going… upstairs… for… why again?"

She grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him towards the stairs. "You two clean my kitchen!" she grit between her teeth from over her shoulder. "And it better be done by the time I have to start dinner!"

Scott leaned back against the fridge in relief, taking a long deep breath with his eyes closed. After a moment he glanced over at Derek as the alpha simply stood against the counter not moving. "Are you going to say anything?"

"She told me to hire a contractor!" he growled, his eyes flashing angrily.

Scott's expression became apprehensive. "You should just leave. I'll clean up the mess myself."

"Good idea," he sneered, pushing away from the sink he headed toward the back door.

"Hold it right there, Hale," Melissa's stern voice called from the doorway. "You're not dropping all of this on my son's lap. You helped make this mess. Now help clean it up. Oh, and if you don't like it … tuff shit."

Derek slowly turned around, his expression dire but human, only to find that she had already left their sights. He glanced at Scott who shrugged helplessly before stepping over to the closet for the broom and dust pan. "You want to sweep or pick-up?"

"All I'm sayin is that it's wrong for any of us to have to do laundry! Especially someone else's laundry!" He shivered his body with exaggeration. "She made me touch your boxers, dude! I'm too old for that shit!"

"I dropped a full grown black bear by myself by the time I was five years old," Derek stated. "And you're worried about laundry?"

"Okay, he's being really creepy, again," Stiles said, pointing at Derek.

"He's always creepy according you. I thought you'd be used to him by now."

"You can't say that he doesn't creep you out, ever," Stiles challenged.

"No," Scott answered thoughtfully, shaking his head. "Not really." A grin slowly crept over his face. "Not after watching my mom back him into a corner with a wooden spoon." He started laughing.

"She didn't?" Stiles asked incredulously. "Seriously? And I missed that? Aww man!"

Derek abruptly got to his feet. "That, is not funny!" he growled, ineffectively threatening the both of them with a glare as they continued to chuckle at his expense. "I was being respectful, that's it."

"Oh, right," Stiles laughed. "Because, she's the alpha in her own house, right?" He stopped laughing suddenly to ask, "Hey, does that work in my house, too?"

"You're still alive, aren't you?"

Stiles swallowed hard at the reminder of how he threatens to yell for his dad at any given time when the alpha shows up in his room and quietly sat down.

"You might want to use the window," Scott suggested when Derek stepped towards the door to leave. "My mom is in super overdrive mode and will hear you no matter how you try to sneak past her."

"Yeah, cause she's the alpha mom!" Stiles laughed.

Derek turned to look at Scott with a predatory smirk. "Oh, good. A challenge."

"You're not seriously going to let him near your mom, are you?" Stiles asked after he closed the door.

"I think he likes her," Scott replied.

"Eww!" Stiles vocalized, wiggling and shaking himself bodily in disgust. "Eww! And, Eww!"

Scott laughed. "Not like that. Kinda like family. He got this look on his face when she was waving that spoon at him like he was a little kid. I don't think anyone's treated him like that in a long time."

"I can think of a good reason for that. You want to hear it? It's because he's scary!"

Derek heard the sound of crisp vegetables being cut on a cutting board with quick precision as he slowly made his way down the stairs. Running water from the tap, the clank of a couple of plates, a drawer being opened, silverware clanking, and the drawer closed. By the time she turned back to the cutting board again Derek was standing just shy of the doorway to the kitchen, watching her as she prepared dinner.

Scott might have a point, he did admire her to a degree. She's still scared of her own son but loves him too much for that to keep her away from him. She's generally terrified of Derek personally, but hell, so is Stiles but that doesn't stop him from being a royal pain in his side.

Earlier in the kitchen she'd been too pissed to be afraid. Not many people look him in the eyes anymore, especially while waving a wooden spoon in his face. She had reminded him of his aunt Rose at that precise moment, but then ruined it by telling him to hire a contractor. He huffed under his breath at the reminder.

Her head snapped at attention to the minute sound in the hall - Damn, Scott wasn't kidding about her hearing – accompanied by a gasp when the sharp knife sliced her finger instead of the celery.

"Ow!" she dropped the knife to examine her finger. The cut started bleeding instantly. "Son of a bitch." She went to the sink to run it under cold water but not before the scent of fresh blood reached Derek's senses.

"Is everything alright?" he asked from the other side of the table behind her.

She jolted slightly at him suddenly being in the room but recovered quickly. "I'm fine. It's just a cut."

She removed her finger from under the tap when he not only got a good look at the wound but a fair whiff of the scent of blood as well. "That's deeper than just a cut."

"I'm fine," she insisted firmly, turning off the running water while grabbing a hand towel with the other one. "Dinner's about ready. Would you mind calling Scott and Stiles down to eat? I need to wrap this."

Hale glanced at the set table and counted four place settings. "I didn't realize that I was invited for dinner."

She made a short chuckle sound. "Scott's other friends often stay for dinner, why would it be any different for you?"

"Because, I'm not one of his friends."

"Really? You honestly think that?" She shrugged. "Well, whatever bond the two of you have, it got you invited to dinner." She wrapped another part of the hand towel around her hand. "I really need to see to this."

"That's worse than you're letting on," he reiterated, nodding towards her hand. "It's bleeding too much to not need stitches."

"How about we just not think about blood and stitches, hmm?" She frowned slightly at the amount of blood already on the hand-towel. "I have three boys to feed and I need to get ready for work. I'll be fine for now."

"Scott!" Hale called authoritatively in a voice just above normal, holding Melissa's gaze the whole while. "You're mother injured herself and won't listen to reason."

Scott was in the doorway before Hale even finished his sentence. "Mom, what happened!" he asked, seeing the bloody towel wrapped around her hand. "Are you alright?"

"No," Hale drawled slowly. "She's bleeding too much, can't you smell it?"

"I'll be fine," Melissa insisted. "I'll just wrap it for now and look at it later when I go into work." She moved towards the doorway only to be blocked by Stiles as he finally showed up to see what was going on. "Stiles, help Scott get dinner on the table while I take care of this."

"Oh my god," Stiles exclaimed. "Is that, like, blood?"

"Scott," Hale addressed curtly. "She needs help," he stressed in slow precise words.

"Right, help, uhm…" He looked frantically around the room, moving from one spot to another in a panic. "Keys," he stated, patting his pockets. "Keys, keys." He stopped short to look at Stiles. "Keys!"

Stiles quickly dug his keys from his pocket and tossed them to Scott.

"Ok, mom, let's go. I'm taking you to the…"

"Scott!" Hale growled at him. "Would you think for a minute!" Everyone stopped to look at Derek in confusion, who took an impatient breath. "You are a werewolf. Use your healing ability to help her!"

"Huh? How? She's not some dog dying from cancer! She's my mom with a really bad cut!"

Hale lowered his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as he took an exasperated breath. "You lick the wound, dumbass!"

"Now wait just a minute!" Melissa barked. "You don't talk to my son like that just because he doesn't know everything that you do!"

"That's why I'm trying to teach him," Derek replied with strained patience. "And while he's standing here not doing anything, you are bleeding profusely, which is another thing Scott should be able to sense!"

"Well maybe if you talked to me like a human being instead of growling at me all the time, I'd learn from you faster!"

"Scott," Stiles called, seeing how Mom McCall placed a steadying hand on the back of a chair only to be ignored by the arguing werewolves. "Scott," he addressed more specifically as he watched her sway with dizziness, the hand towel suddenly seemed too red and blood soaked. "Scott!" he shouted, banging the side of his fist against the wall. "She's passing out, dude!"

Hale reached her first, catching her with an arm around her back as she slumped towards the floor from blood lose. One handedly he removed the blood soak towel and grabbed the wrist of the bleeding hand. "I knew it. She cut all the way to the bone! Scott, lick the wound without biting her."

"You want me to do what?"

"Lick. The. Wound!" Hale repeated, his eyes glowing red in his ire now that he didn't have to keep himself in check with Melissa unconscious.

Scott looked helplessly from his mom to Hale. "I… I can't! She's my mom! Besides, what if I nip her or something?" He licked his lips nervously. "Gimme your keys, your car is faster! I can get her to the hospital within ten minutes!"

Hale growled impatiently, shaking his head completely fed up with the kid. With a roaring growl he changed his features just enough to bring out his werewolf abilities. Bending his head to one side he brought Melissa's hand up to his mouth as her eyes opened into slits.

He paused with her hand just shy of his gaping mouth, waiting to see her reaction first. The last thing he needed was for her hand to be anywhere near his teeth and have her jerk it back in a panic.

"He refused to do it himself," The alpha told her in a gruff growling voice. "Do you want me to heal it, or is he rushing you to the hospital in my car?"

"I'll take care of my mom myself!" he yelled, coming at Derek threateningly. "Don't do this to her!"

Hale dropped Melissa's hand to grab Scott by the front of his shirt when he got within arm's reach. His sharp claws poked holes in the material. "I'm trying to help her!"

"How do I know that?" Scott asked, unable to break free from Hale's grasp without risking his mom getting hurt in the crossfire of claws and teeth. "My boss never mentioned using werewolf saliva to heal! How do I know that it's not another way to turn her!"

"Do it," Melissa stated in a weak voice.

"What?" Scott yelled incredulously. "Mom! No! You don't know what you're saying!"

"I said, do it." She lifted her hand up to Derek's face, meeting his werewolf eyes with her own. "Do it."

"Derek, don't listen to her!"

Derek looked at Scott and grinned predatorily. "She's the alpha of the house, remember?" He shoved Scott backwards with enough force to make him slam into the kitchen counter before landing on the floor. Carefully taking a hold of Melissa's wrist, he made sure that his claws would not come in contact with her skin. Holding her hand palm up he licked at the blood that still seeped from the wound, spreading his tongue between her fingers to clean off her hand and palm before gently lapping his tongue over and around the nearly severed finger.

Melissa smiled up at him as her eyes drifted closed. She was aware of a soothing tingling feeling that started in the palm of her hand where he had slid the full width of his tongue from her wrist to her wounded finger. Her finger, that had had a beating heart of its own moments before was now numb of all pain, the sensation of it healing at a miraculous rate overwhelmed her fading senses.

"Scott," she called out weakly, rolling her head backwards over Derek's arm.

"Mom!" He was by her head in a flash, spazzing out whether to touch her face or not as Derek let her healed finger slip from between his lips. "I'm right here, mom!"

"Don't forget dinner in the oven."

Scott stared at her incredulously. "Dinner?!" he shouted down at her upside down face as she lost consciousness. "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

Stiles took it upon himself to crash through the kitchen towards the stove. Sliding to a stop he grabbed two pot holders and quickly opened the oven door. He pulled out the simmering roast that had been baking inside, dropping it on top of the stove he slammed the door shut and turn off the oven. Lifting the lid of the roasting pan he pulled back as the steam wafted into his face then leaned over it to inhale deeply. Releasing his breath he sighed in relief. "I think I got it out in time."

"She's going to need to rest for a few minutes," Derek told Scott. "Do you want me to carry her to the couch or should I just leave her on the cold linoleum floor?"

"I swear to god," Scott seethed grabbing a fistful of Derek's shirt under his chin. "If you just did more than heal her finger I'll kill you!"

"Why would I be stupid enough to…" Realization came across Derek's face. "Right, because I don't have a family anymore, so I have to bite myself a new one, is that it?"

"Sounds like something you'd do," Scott snarled.

"Wow, good thing Allison doesn't feel that way about everything you do," he answered cockily in an even tone, stooping to swing his free arm under Melissa's knees to cradle her in his arms. "I'll just lay her on the couch."

Scott released his grip on Derek's shirt and watched dumbfounded as he carried his mom into the living room. "Stiles, tell me that I wasn't over reacting."

"Huh? Who? You? Pfft, nah! Well, maybe a little. But she is your mom, so that don't count. I mean we both know how Derek just goes off biting people to make a new pack, especially since Erica a Boyd were…" he made a ripping noise while running his forefinger across his throat. "But I don't think you over reacted at all. Not much really. Hey, can we like dig in cause this smells really good!"

Scott shook his head and followed Derek towards the living room. His mom moaned low in her throat as Derek laid her down on the couch. "Mom!" he called, sliding to his knees in front of the couch.

Derek reached out and lifted Scott off the floor by his throat. "She really needs to rest," he growled in a low voice. "I don't think you realize how much blood she lost. Maybe if you paid closer attention to details you'd understand things better!"

"Hey, guys," Stiles called from the kitchen, chomping noisily on a mouthful of food. "If you want any of this…" he made more chomping noises then swallowed. "You better come get it now, cause this is…" he refilled his mouth with more. "Hmmm.. awww, oh my gawd this is fucking delivcious!" He noisily made more chomping sounds. "Oh my gawd, I could eat this whole thing by myself!"

"What the hell is he ranting about now?" Derek asked sourly, dropping Scott the floor.

Scott coughed once then looked up at Derek. "Maybe if you paid closer attention to the details you'd recognize the smell of roast beef." He rose to his feet and fixed his shirt as he gazed upon his mom resting peaceably on the couch. "I'm not leaving you alone with her," Scott stated matter-of-factly. "And, he's not kidding, Stiles can and will eat that entire roast if we don't get in their right now!"

"I'm not a fan of overdone steak."

"My mom doesn't cook overdone steak. Now would you please get your ass back in the kitchen before Stiles wolfs it all down himself!"

"Pass the butter," Scott told Stiles with food in his mouth.

Stiles glanced to his left for the butter only to notice Derek shoveling more roast beef from the roasting pan onto his plate. "Hey! Dude! That's like your fifth helping!"

"And your point is…what?" Derek growled between chunks of meat in his mouth.

"Stiles, the butter!"

"He's eating it all!" Stiles complained to Scott as he handed him the butter.

"No more than how much you chowed down before we even got it to the table," he grumbled, buttering a still warm biscuit. They had put the batch of biscuits in the oven after Derek noticed them sitting on the counter on a cookie sheet.

"Besides," Derek added before filling his fork with a heaping mouthful again. "You eat like this all the time. I haven't eaten a cooked meal this good in years."

"Don't get used to it," Scott stated deadpan. "In fact I don't want you anywhere near my mom ever again."

"Well," a feminine vice stated from the doorway. "It's nice to see that you haven't killed each other while I was passed out."

"Mom!" Scott choked, pushing back from the table as he swallowed his food. He was quickly at her side near the doorway. "Are you alright?"

"Yea, I think so. I feel like I worked a double shift without a break, but other than that I think I'm okay." She raised her hand midair between them. "Can't tell that anything happened, can you?"

"No," Scott answered begrudgingly.

Melissa looked across the room towards Derek, meeting his gaze directly. "I appreciate what you did."

Scott frowned at hearing her heartbeat quickened when she looked at Derek. "I wouldn't be too thankful just yet. I'm not convinced that there won't be any side effects from what he did."

"Is that why you didn't want to do it?" She all but accused. "because it might have side effects?"

"What are you mad at me for?! I'm the one trying to protect you, from him! He can't be trusted, mom!

"And yet he was the one who spared me the drive to the hospital, of needing stitches, and I let me remind you that I would've been forced to stay home from work for at least a week. I can't treat patients without wearing gloves and with the condition my finger was in I wouldn't have been able to wear them."

"Mom?" he beseeched her, hurt that she blamed him for not wanting to risk healing her when he didn't know if there were any consequences, or not.

"If being licked by alpha wolf changes you, will that mess with your cooking abilities?" Stiles asked with another mouthful of meat. "Cause this… is… fabulous!"

"Stiles go home," both Scott and Melissa voiced simultaneously.

"Okay," he stated appeasingly, rising from the chair with his plate. "But I'm taking this with me." He rounded the table towards the back door, pausing to nudge Derek in the back of his head with an elbow. "Grab the grub, dude. Trust me, you don't want to be here when they get deep in shit with each other." Stiles leaned closer to Derek's ear. "Specially when they're arguing about you."

Derek shifted his eyes to glare at Stiles peripherally only to see him nod confidently, his lips drawn into a thin line. Turning his gaze back towards the table Derek grabbed the roasting pan, changed his mind and put it down only to dump what was still on his plate into the pan, adding the biscuits, and the entire bowl of mashed potatoes, he picked up the pan again and turned towards the door. Gesturing for Stiles to lead the way, they both left unnoticed while the McCall family continued their debate.

"Scott, I damn nearly sliced off my finger. He healed it, that's all!"

"How do you know that that's all? Because he said so? Seriously, mom? Because you shy away from me at any given moment but you trust him to lick an open wound? Do you know it only takes a scratch from him to turn you? Did you know that it was Derek's mark that turned Jackson into the Kanima?"

"You know," Melissa stated in a low, patient tone. "I realize that he's not a model citizen or anything, but considering how many times he's saved people's lives, mostly yours; maybe you could try to be nicer to him just a little bit."

"I can't believe you trust him over me," he admitted, sounding hurt.

"It's not that I trust him over you, it's just…" She paused, taking a deep breath in frustration while running her fingers through her hair. "I felt something when he healed my hand. Okay? There! I said it! I felt something."

"No, oh my god, mom, no!"

"Scott, calm down. It wasn't like that, at least I don't think it was," she added under her breath. "Sit," she told him, pointing to the nearest chair as she moved to seat herself in the one across from him. "I'll tell you what I felt, and then you tell me if that's what it feels like to be changed, or turned, or whatever you call it."

Scott couldn't even answer her from the anger that coursed in his veins. It took everything he had to remain seated and under control instead of rushing after Derek to cause him some serious harm.

"Alright, first of all his eyes glowed a calming blue color, not red like they were when we were at the jail, and not yellow like yours. And when he licked my palm I felt this numbing sensation spread through my entire hand, and it pushed the pain away. By the time he even touched the wound itself I could already feel it starting to heal from under my skin."

"And that was it? Just in your hand? It didn't flow up your arm or anything?"

"No," she replied comfortingly. "The feeling was only in my hand. But that's not why I'm asking you to be nicer to him. I'm asking you to be nicer to him because I don't believe he's as malicious as everyone thinks he is." She leaned on the table by her elbows, looking at her son more intently. "Two weeks ago I had to treat a felon for a gunshot wound, and Scott, I'm telling you that the malevolent feeling that oozed from that man had me on edge for hours after he left under police escort. Derek Hale doesn't come anywhere close to that feeling in comparison. Even when he changed in front of me, and I was scared out of my head, I somehow knew that he wouldn't hurt me. Do you understand?"

"I think so. But mom, don't trust him too much. I know what he's capable of."

"Just because he's a predator doesn't mean he's a murderer."

"What?" Scott asked, a chill ran up his spine like a block of ice on his back. "Where did you hear that?"

"I don't know," she answered, frowning in confusion. "It just came to me. Why, does it mean something?"

"Probably nothing," Scott replied. "Just… don't trust him too much, okay mom?"

"Okay," she smiled and glanced down the length of the table. "They took all the food!"

"Well, not all of it," Scott grinned. "Nobody touched the salad."

Stiles turned off the overhead light in his room and settled into bed. It wasn't even nine pm yet but Scott was off stalking Allison, Lydia was back to her old self pining for Jackson, Jackson was pretending his life was perfect, and Stiles honestly was looking forward to a night of peace and quiet for once.

Laying on his back he let the blue illumination from his laptop calm him to fall asleep when he heard a thud on the roof outside his window. "Aw, come on," he complained as he rolled out of bed to the window. "I deserve a night off, too!"

He threw open his blinds to see Derek crouched on the roof, his eyes glowing red. "Dude, if you think I'm letting you in looking like that, you're fucking insane!"

"Open it or I'll smash it to bits!"

"Go ahead! My dad is still downstairs, dipshit!"

"Not for long. There's a 417 and I'm sure he'll get the call any minute. Now open the window!"

"Seriously? A murder?" Stiles asked excitedly. "Where? Wait, how do you know? Did you do it?"

Derek glared at Stiles, his eyes glowing red again. "No, I didn't have anything to do with it. I heard it on the Argent's radio channel.

"How did you hear it on the Argent's channel? What the hell were you doing anywhere near the Argents?"

"Would you open the fucking window? I'm shot and I need to get off this roof!"

"Not until you answer my questions! And how come you always come here when you get shot! Why don't you go to the vet's office for that sort of thing?"

Stiles, I'm warning you," he growled.

Suddenly the porch light at the house across the street flicked on and the front door started to open. "Oh shit!" Stiles murmured, jumping up and down on the balls of his feet before unlocking the window and pushing it open. "Hurry, get in here! She's going to see you!"

Grabbing the werewolf by the belt loop of his jeans as he crawled through the window head first, Stiles helped him get inside before the full figure of his new neighbor could see anything odd going on. Dropping to the floor under the window next to Derek Stiles breathed in relief.

"You really need to stop getting shot so much!"

"Tell that to Allison Argent," he sneered, rolling onto his side on the floor to lay his head down on a bent arm. "She's made it a habit of hunting me down to use me as target practice."

"Well that would explain why you've been getting shot a lot more lately," Stiles remarked off handedly. "But, I thought Scott was…"

"He wasn't there yet. Which is why I only have one arrowhead in my ass and not three or four."

"In your ass?" Stiles asked, tensing up at knowing what was coming next. "Dude, I am NOT…"

"Don't make me threaten you or I swear I'll beat you just for fun."

"I hate you," Stiles stated, scrambling to his feet to head for the door.

"The feelings mutual, believe me. But you're the one I mistrust the least, so go get the first aid kit. Oh, and a pair of pliers, it's in there really deep."

Stiles had his hand on the doorknob when his dad knocked from the other side. "Stiles, I got a call and have to leave for a while."

Stiles opened the door just enough to slip out into the hallway and close it firmly behind him. "Is everything okay?"

"Not really," his dad replied with a curious frown at his son's behavior, but then disregarded it as it just being Stiles. "We got a 417 so I'm not sure how late I'll be before getting home."

"A 417? Really? Where? Who got murdered?"

The sheriff breathed in deeply for patience at his son's over exuberant enthusiasm towards the crimes in this little town. "I'm not telling you and no you can't go. In fact, give me your keys."

"What?" Stiles asked incredulously. "Are you serious? You can't take my keys, Dad!"

"Come on," he insisted, flicking his fingers over an upright palm for Stiles to drop the keys in his hand. "Hand them over."

"I have to get them off my desk," Stiles all but pouted.

"Make it fast, they're waiting for me at the crime scene."

Begrudgingly he slipped into his room, nearly tripping over his own feet when he noticed a small blood stain on his carpet under the window. Cursing about werewolves bleeding all over his stuff he grabbed his keys and ran back out into the hallway. "This ain't fair, you know."

"I know. But at least I'm assured that you won't stumble over a dead body like you and Scott did the last time we had one in the woods."

"Why, is it out by the Hale place again?"

"No, it's nowhere near…" He stopped to chuckle. "Good one, you almost got me. Now stay put, I have to get going."

"Okay dad. Love you."

"Love you, too, son."

Stiles scrambled back into his room and locked the door. Rushing across the room he looked out the window onto the roof. "Derek," he whispered urgently. "Where the hell…" A hand suddenly grabbed his ankle from under his bed, causing Stiles to yelp in surprise. "Holy shit, dude! People have nightmares about crap like that!"

Derek pulled himself from under the bed to stare stoically up at Stiles. "Just get the first aid kit and pliers before my body finishes healing around this damn thing."

"You mean your ass could heal with it stuck in there?"

Derek was sorry he'd said anything and rolled his eyes. "Yes," he replied begrudgingly. "Which will make it all that much harder to get it out! So I'd move a little faster if I were you."

"You need to start being nicer to me!" Stiles yelled down at him, pointing and hopping around excitedly. "All the times I've saved your werewolf ass… and this time, literally! The least you could do is be nicer to me!"

"I'll put it on my 'To-Do' list," he growled. "Now would you move!"

"I have to make sure my dad leaves first. If he sees me in the garage he'll think I'm trying to follow him or that I'm up to no good or something, which in a sense I am, ain't I?"

"Oh my god," Derek mumbled, dropping his head back to the floor. "Why do I subject myself to this shit?"

"Ah, dude," Stiles voiced cautiously from the window. "Is that your car parked in the driveway across the street?"

Derek looked at Stiles upside down. "Yes, why?" he asked suspiciously, not sure that he wanted to know.

"Well, we got new neighbors in there two days ago, and she left the porch light on, and it's shining on your car, and my dad is walking over there right now, and…."

"Shit!" the werewolf was standing next to the teen at the window within a flash of motion. "Why didn't you tell me that people moved in there!" he accused heatedly.

"What are you blaming me for? You're the bad ass alpha werewolf, aren't you supposed to sense things like that?"

Derek growled at Stiles while backing away from the window. The kid was right, he should've noticed the smell of disturbed air and new human scents, not to mention the sound of heartbeats coming from within. But, in his own defense, he was dealing with the pain of being shot and hadn't paid attention to much of anything else.

"Wow," Stiles voiced in awe. "She's…oh my god… wow!"

Derek shifted his position just enough to see out without being seen and immediately saw what had the teen's pulse racing. The woman wasn't just attractive but she was wearing nothing more than a short flimsy robe that was nearly transparent. The sheriff continuously turned his head to avoid looking at her.

"What are they saying?" Stiles asked.

"Shh." Derek couldn't believe what he was hearing her tell the sheriff. And wondered why she was lying through her teeth on his behalf.

Sheriff Stilinski noticed the car in the driveway just because of the make and model. But then recognized the plates for how often they were on the most wanted list. Wondering what Derek Hale was doing there he decided he could spare a minute to check it out. He approached the front door and knocked. No one answered but he heard some movement from inside, he knocked again and was preparing to un-holster his gun when an attractive woman in her mid-twenties opened the door in nothing more than a negligée night robe.

"Oh!" she exclaimed at seeing the police uniform and pulled her robe tighter around herself. "Is everything alright officer?"

"I'm not sure," he replied, diverting his eyes to avoid staring at her. "My name is Sheriff Stilinski, I live across the street and happened to notice the car parked in the driveway."

"Oh, that belongs to the guy I have upstairs," she replied suggestively with a smile. "He said he was the town's bad boy, but, he's not really in trouble with the law or something, is he?" she asked concerned.

"Uh, no. Not anymore at least. He was a suspect… but uhm, …I'm sorry to ask this but could you have him come to the door so I can verify that you're not in any danger?"

"Oh, uhm, I guess I could but…" She slipped a hand into her flimsy robe pocket and pulled out a little rounded key on a short piece of string. "He's not going anywhere for a while. Do you really need to talk to him, right now?"

Sheriff Stilinski turned four shades of red as he completely looked away from the woman. "No, that won't be necessary. I am really sorry that I bothered you." He nearly stammered as he stepped away from the door.

"I can detain him till morning if you like," she giggled suggestively, swinging the key at eye level.

"That won't be necessary. He… hasn't done anything, recently, that I know of, goodnight ma'am."

"What is she saying?!" Stiles insisted, smacking Derek on the shoulder for him to fess up. "Come on!" he pleaded. "Even I can see how uncomfortable my dad was! You gotta tell me what she said!"

"She lied through her teeth," Derek answered in an astounded voice.

"Really? Why would she do that?"

"That's what I need to find out."

"Whoa, dude! Arrowhead in your ass, remember? Not that I look forward to digging it out or anything, but you said it gets harder to remove the more your body heals around it. And …well, I'm just sayin…"

"You're right. Go get the damn kit and pliers. I'll tell you everything she said if you promise to not make one sound while digging it out. Not one!"

"Oh, dude! I'll be quiet as a church mouse!" he answered excitedly and raced through the house to the garage for a pair of pliers, grabbing the first aid kit from under the kitchen sink on his way back through.

Forty five minutes later Derek was convinced that he would've been better off just doing it himself. Stiles, for all his bravado and good intentions, even under duress, can not stand the sight of blood. Twice he nearly passed out trying to remove the double edged arrowhead after fussing and squirming over having to dig into the flesh of his ass cheek to find it in the first place.

After the fifth time that Stiles had to re-open the wound because his skin healed faster than Stiles was operating; Derek's threats sounded lame even to his ears. And the kid was far from quiet while he recited the conversation he overheard between the sheriff and the woman across the street.

Then, to top it all off, the teen wanted to keep the arrowhead as a souvenir of his exploits and accomplishments. Derek had been tempted to let him have it except that Scott would see it in his room, recognize it as one of Allison's, and Stiles wouldn't be able to lie about how he got it. The alpha considered the possibility of Scott being able to talk to Allison on his behalf but decided it wasn't worth the retribution. If anything it might just piss off the little bitch hunter even more and have her start using the heavier artilleries on him.

Snatching the bloody arrowhead from Stiles' still shaking hand was a bitter sweet victory. The kid honestly looked like he was going to cry over not being allowed to keep it. "You're pathetic," Derek stated right to his face. "You know that, you are fucking pathetic!"

"I know," Stiles agreed, nodding his head while keeping his eyes trained on the arrowhead held between Derek's fingers.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," the alpha swore. "Keep the damn thing."

Stiles' expression lit up like a Christmas tree, he was so excited he actually danced around his room for a minute before he realized the arrowhead still had blood on it and ran to the bathroom to wash it off.

Derek left by the bedroom window, jumped down to the street, and crossed over to the house with the porch light still shining on his car. It was time to find out why the woman across the street lied on his behalf.

The door pushed opened of its own accord when he tried to knock on it. He called out a couple of times before stepping into the dark interior house by his own invitation. The only light on was the ceiling fixture at the top of the stairs. He no sooner closed the door, non-too quietly, when the sensation of being watched raised his hackles. Turning around he found her watching him from the top of the stairs.

"I called out twice," he stated, using a pleasant tone of voice that neither Scott nor Stiles had ever heard Derek use before.

"I heard you," she answered, not moving a muscle from where she stood. "I wanted to see if you'd walk in or not."

"That was easy enough since the door wasn't even shut all the way," he answered casually though his instincts were warning him that something wasn't right. He should just back out and leave, and yet he remained unmoving. "I wanted to apologize for parking my car in your driveway. I wasn't aware that someone had moved in. I also noticed that the sheriff paid you a visit, which I'm sure had to do with my car being in your driveway."

"It did," she verified in a neutral tone, and started down the steps. "I told him that I had you handcuffed to my bed when he asked to speak with you."

"Yeah, I was wondering why would you say that." Did he just admit to hearing her conversation with the sheriff?

"You sound as though you already knew what I told him," she asked suspiciously.

"I have very good hearing."

"Interesting, mine is slightly above average, too." She reached the bottom step but didn't step down to the floor, preferring to keep herself at eye level with him. "I heard quite the commotion coming from that boy's bedroom. Is he your lover? Is that why you sneak into the house through the window?"

"No," he answered abruptly. "You sorely have the wrong impression, lady." Derek nearly growled, thinking that telling her the truth would be better than her thinking he had anything remotely intimate going on with the likes of Stiles Stelinski!

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hit a nerve," she stated airily. "So, to avoid further speculation and miscommunication between us I'll be upfront with you."

"That would be appreciated."

"I bought this house three months ago," she stated informatively. "I've seen you sneaking in and out of the house across the street more times than I'll recount. You're also not the only one who comes and goes to that house on a regular basis."

"What's your point," Derek growled impatiently. He didn't like where this was leading at all and his hackles were rising in agitation.

"I followed someone here, to this town that is, someone who has nothing to do with you or your friends."

"They're not my friends," he corrected sourly.

She shrugged minutely. "That could be debatable, but whatever." She stepped off the last step to slowly stroll into the gloomy living room. "The man I followed here has an unusual taste for blood," she continued in a nonchalant tone.

She had Derek's apt attention as he followed her into the bare and dust filled living room. Something didn't seem right, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"And, I need help in finding him before he finds me," she continued saying, turning around to face Derek with her hands linked at arm's length in front of her torso.

He suddenly became aware of her heart beating at a steady rhythm, telling him she wasn't lying about anything so far. But, was she implying what he thought she was? "I'm not sure why you're telling me this."

"Because I know what you are."

Her voice sounded more like a whisper close to his ear even though he watched her standing in front of him. He felt the sensation of hands running across the broad expanse of his shoulders and shook his head slightly, blinking to clear his suddenly foggy senses.

"You know what I am?" he asked confused.

"You're a werewolf," she stated informatively. "Gorgeous and in your prime."

Derek flinched at the feeling of a pin prick on the side of his neck. He tried to raise a hand to touch the spot but couldn't seem to feel his own body, his arms simply hung like dead weights by his sides. He stared at the woman standing in front of him, unmoving with her hands clasped before her.

"If you help me find the man I'm looking for I'll let you park your car in my driveway whenever you want."

"I don't hunt men," the werewolf replied, feeling his head grow heavier all of a sudden.

"That's good because the man I'm looking for is a vampire."

"There are no vampires in Beacon Hills."

"There is now and he's going to kill your pack, one by one, until you have nothing left, making you an omega wolf instead of an alpha," she stated softly.

"That's not possible."

"Yes, it is."

He felt a cold hand slide up under his shirt, his body started to respond despite knowing that he wasn't actually being touched. "What are you doing to me?"

"Oh, you are a strong one, aren't you?" she purred. "I'm going to enjoy playing with you, my new pet."

"I'm nobody's pet," he growled, but his canines didn't come through like they should have. Something was wrong, he could sense it, but there wasn't anything he could do about it.

"Help me find the vampire, alpha wolf. Before he finds me and kills me first."

Derek jerked awake to find himself in his car still parked in the driveway across the street from Stiles' place. Shaking his head he glanced up at Stiles' bedroom window, his light was out, in fact all the lights in his house were out, and the sheriff's car was parked in front as well.

Not sure what the hell happened to him he shrugged it off and started his car to drive home.

TBC…