I don't own Darkest Powers.

I ushered her over to the men's bathroom before anyone noticed how banged up we were. Once inside, I locked the door so no one would walk in and find us.

Chloe had blood all over from the fight. A few scrapes dotted her skin, and she looked totally confused when I lifted her onto the counter so I could better wash the blood off. I washed my hands so I wouldn' add anymore blood to the amount already on her. So sooner the blood was gone, the better.

"Uh, Derek…?" she said uncertainly. She didn't understand that the blood could cause her harm.

I wet a paper towel and tilted her face up gently to wipe off the blood. She was taller sitting on the counter, but still shorter then me. She looked up at me, still confused.

"Derek? I'm not hurt." She said.

Her head had to be hurting from when Liam hit her against the wall. The thought of Liam made me angry, he was still out there. I wanted to go kill him, but I knew I couldn't.

"You're covered in blood." Was all I said.

"But it's not mine." She insisted. Why couldn't she let me help? This was my fault. "Honest, It's from—"

"The werewolf. I know." I finished with the blood on her face and moved on to the blood on her hand. "That's why I have to get it off." Dad never told me how long it took for the change to take effect. I wanted it off as soon as possible, and her questions weren't helping.

I had my head bent, focused on her hand. I barely noticed her bending over, trying to see my face. Truthfully, I had been punched once too many. Or… A lot too many. My face hurt and I'm sure looked a whole lot worse then it felt. I kept it out of looking distance, feeling slightly self-conscious for the first time.

"Derek? Are you ok?"

I wasn't, but I wasn't going to tell her that. "There are two ways to become a werewolf. Either you're born one, or you get bitten by one. If you get the saliva in your bloodstream, it's like a virus."

"Blood, too?"

I rolled my eyes, but she couldn't see it. I wouldn't be doing this is it wasn't a possibility. "Dad says no, it's just saliva. But he could be wrong, and you've got cuts and scrapes and blood all over."

She shut up after that… but started fidgeting. I'm not sure which one was worse to deal with.

"Stop fidgeting, Chloe."

I could tell she was trying. She kept looking at me, checking my expression. I hurt and I think she knew it. I wanted to know how bad the damage was, but didn't at the same time. So I pushed it back by focusing on Chloe.

She seemed fine. Didn't look dizzy or in shock. She looked worried, but more for me then for herself. This girl had no sense of danger. The way she had stabbed Liam… It scared me. She could have gotten hurt, and it's my responsibility to look over her. I did let her come along.

I had almost finished when she started talking again. "Okay, now on to you."

"Take off your jacket and sweater."

"Derek, I'm clean. Trust me, I've never been this clean." She insisted.

I wanted to laugh. She seemed so eager to move on to me. But there was no way I was going to have cleaned her off just to find she has a blotch of blood under her jacket.

"You've got blood on your cuffs."

She started to pull her jacket off, but it go stuck. "It's caught—" I gave it a tug to take it off and heard a small snapping noise. Her necklace chain broke and the pendant fell. "—on my necklace." I caught it and swore, felling stupid.

I swore again. I had wanted to help, and now I broke something she kept close to her. "I'm sorry." I mumbled, even if I thought it wouldn't make the situation any different.

"The girl in the alley grabbed it. The clasp was probably weak. No biggie." Chloe said. It didn't make me feel any better. I avoided her gaze and looked down at the pendant in my hand. There was something different… it looked… "Wasn't this red before?"

She looked hard at it, like she was as surprised as I was. It was more blue now.

"I—I think it's some kind of talisman. My mom gave it to me, to ward off bogeymen—ghosts, I guess." She said.

That made me feel great. I just broke the necklace her mom gave her. Her deceased mom.

"Huh." I stared at it. She said it was supposed to keep away ghosts. Obviously it wasn't working. I shook my head and handed it back to her. "Better keep it on you then." I told her, trying to lighten the mood.

She slipped it into her pocket and pulled off her sweatshirt. There was no blood, but I had her wash her arms.

"Okay, now can we take care of the guy who was actually in the fight? There's a lot of blood. It seems to be mostly from your nose."

"It is." I watched her as she inspected me.

"You got hit in the chest a few times. How are your ribs?"

"Maybe bruised. Nothing critical." I humoured her. She probably didn't know what to do, whereas Dad had taught us first aid in case we ever needed it.

"Shirt off." She said.

I sighed, but didn't complain. If doing this would make her feel better, then she could go right ahead.

"If you want me to leave, so you can look after it yourself…" even if I asked her to go, she wouldn't.

Not that I wanted her to leave. "Nah" I tugged off my sweater and put it on the counter.

She looked me over. The bathroom lighting was crap, but she didn't seem to notice. Her fingers trailed in deliberately slow and careful movements over my ribs. Her cool fingers felt great on my burning skin. Not that I'd tell her that. She asked a few questions about my ribs, but there was nothing to tell. They were fine, only sore, but there was nothing I could do about that.

Her eyes were a shocking blue, filled with some determination I never knew she had in her. She always needed help, but would never stand around when someone else needed it. So maybe I had seem it before, but I only really noticed it now.

I wanted to tell her I was fine, that we were fine. But I hadn't listened to her when she told me she was fine, so why would she listen to me now?

I barely heard her ask about my nose. I focused back on her before giving a short answer.

"Let me check your eyes."

I grumbled my acknowledgement. I immediately felt bad for not being nicer, but I had been distracted. Her fingers gently touched my face and I almost flinched. These past days had been weird having Chloe around, someone who would talk to me. At the Lyle House, now, no one but Simon ever reached out like that. Having her be nice to me was weird enough, and her helping me? Not even afraid to touch me after finding out what I was?

She said something that I didn't quite catch, and I grunted in response again. I didn't want her to think I wasn't grateful or paying attention, so I didn't ask her to repeat herself.

"You have dirt in your cheek. Let me—"

I had meant to be nicer, but my response was automatic. "No."

I caught her hand before she could start. I was not going to let her touch a cut that was bleeding, after I had just washed all the blood off her.

I took the damp paper towel from her and started wiping the dirt out off the cut, leaning in to get a closer look, trying not to look at anything else. Beside, if she touched me again, I might explode.

I ruthlessly wiped the dirt out. She was watching the whole time, and I kept chanting in my head over and over, don't touch, don't look, don't touch, don't look, to keep myself from doing something stupid.

"You're going to need to get that checked out." She said.

"Yeah." Was all I said. I looked at myself in the mirror fully for the first time. I was surprised she hadn't ran away yet. The blood was gone, but my eye was darkening, my lip cut, my hair lank. I felt like crap.

Her gaze made me step back from the mirror. She handed me a fresh paper towel. I cleaned up my collar, avoiding her gaze.

"Still got that deodorant?"

She fished around in her jacket and pulled it out, putting it on the counter.

It was quite for a while before she spoke again. "In the playground, when you were negotiating, you weren't serious, right? About going with them? It was a trick."

I didn't say anything. It hadn't been a trick. I had thought the situation would have been easier with her gone.

"Derek?" she said.

I grabbed another paper towel, not answering.

"Did you hear anything they said?" she asked.

I didn't look at her. I heard everything they said. Including all the taunts and threats aimed at her. The word mate still rang through my head, a mock term for girlfriend, or wife. Everyone seemed to think we were together. But that's not what she meant. My race was savage and dangerous.

I trashed the towel. "About what? Hunting humans for sport? Eating them? Yeah, I caught that part." I said bitterly.

"That doesn't have anything to do with you."

"No?" I wasn't to sure. I had knocked out Ramon.

"Not unless being a werewolf transforms you into a wolf and a redneck moron."

I shrugged. I wanted the conversation to be over, but she didn't seem to agree with me.

"Do you want to hunt humans, Derek?"

"No."

"Do you think about it?"

"No."

"How about eating them? Do you think about that?" she pushed through.

I shot her a look, warning her not to go any further on the subjet. "Of course no."

But she didn't take the hint. "Do you dream about killing people?"

I shook my head. "Just deer, rabbits." I don't know why I told her the that. At all. She frowned, and I knew my answer was weird. "For the past few years I've been dreaming of being a wolf. Running in the forest. Hunting deer and rabbits."

I expect her to be revolted. That wasn't normal, it was freakish, but she took it with such grace I was almost confused.

"Right, like a wolf, not a man-eating monster."

"So why would you ever let these guys take you to—" she stopped. "The Pack, is that what you wanted? Tell them you'll go, and after they release me, tell the Pack the truth and use that as a… an introduction? Meet them? Be with your own kind."

I wanted to laugh. She was getting all ahead of herself, making up and excuse for me, because she didn't want to hear the truth. So I didn't admit she was right or wrong. "No. that doesn't matter to me. Dad says it does to the other werewolves. It mattered the other boys—they hated anyone who wasn't one of us. Me? I don't care the only reason I'd want to meet a werewolf would be the same reason you'd want to meet a necromancer. To talk, get tips, training, whatever. Preferably from one who doesn't think hunting humans makes good sport."

"Like this Pack." she pressed on. "They kill man-eaters and they don't seem that thrilled about man hunters. Is that what you thought? You could go to them and they'd help you? When I asked if you were listening to those two goons, that's the part I meant—about the Pack. What they'd do to you. Killing werewolves with chainsaws and stuff."

I snorted. That's what she'd been worried about?

I saw her relax. I hadn't even noticed she was worried about that part of the conversation. Why be scared of a Pack you wouldn't see, with the two werewolves causing the larger problem at hand.

"You don't believe it, then. No one would do that. Cut someone up with a chainsaw and pass around photos? Those guys were just trying to scare you."

"No, I'm sure there are photo's. And I'm sure those guys believe the Pack carved up someone. But the photos must be fakes. You can do the kind of stuff with special effects and makeup, can't you?"

"Sure, but why?"

"For the reasons you just said. To scare people. Liam and Ramon think the Pack really did it, so they steer clear of it's territory. Doesn't seem like a bad idea to me."

"But would you ever think of it yourself?"

I felt my face pinch up in disgust. She kept asking these kind of questions, almost trying to piss me off. "Of course not."

"But you considered entrusting your life to people who would? Werewolves who play judge and jury for their own kind? Torture and kill other werewolves? Knowing that, you'd go to them, pretend you kill humans, and hope they'd go easy on you because you're a kid? Or were those odds okay with you? If they decided you didn't deserve to live, maybe they'd be right?" she said, getting herself all worked up.

But I listened to every word she said. She was right. But I hadn't planned on getting to the Pack. All I wanted to do was get Chloe out of there, and here she was, putting up valuable points, even meant as sarcasm. I had my head so wrapped around the fact that I had got her into this crap that I wanted to get her out, no matter what. If I had died, that was fine, as long as she was fine. Because it would be so much worse for me if someone died, anyone died, because of me.

"Derek!" Chloe shrieked.

I threw the paper towel in the garbage and looked up at her. "No, I don't have a death sentence okay?" I said.

"You'd better not." She said.

"I don't, Chloe," I said softly, trying to get her back to the level headed person who was bent on helping a minute ago. The Chloe who could trail her fingers across my burning ribs as if they were fine, the one who could look at my beaten up face as if I looked completely normal. "I mean it, I don't."

She looked up at me. The bathroom was dead quiet, even the café was silent. We stared at each other. She was still on the counter, looking confused and… something else. Even sitting on the counter she wasn't as tall as me, our faces not even close to even. Only a foot separating us, but there was something so compelling about her. She was brave, and reckless, and totally selfless. It had only been little over a weak since she found out about her powers, and even if I wouldn't admit it to her, I was impressed. I had grown to like her, even if she favoured Simon…

She looked away and mumbled, "Good.", breaking my trance.

I had realized we were standing close together, but I didn't realize how close. It felt a lot closer the it was, and it took me a second to take a step back so she could slide off the counter after I murmured a, "We gotta go."

She handed me her jacket and I put it on, only because it covered the blood on my sweater. We left the bathroom and the people in the coffee shop called out that the bathroom was for paying customers only.

I looked at Chloe to see if the comments were bothering her, but she didn't even react to them, as if she didn't hear them.

I bought us a thermos filled with hot chocolate and two paper cups. I added a half-dozen donuts on that, because I was starving, and I'm sure Chloe was just as hungry.

Outside Chloe and I discussed going back to the bus stop ad decided it would be better if we didn't wait at the bus stop. I was pretty sure Ramon and Liam weren't going to come after us just now, with Liam's leg and Ramon's head. Just to be save, we stuck down wind and waited till we saw the bus to hop on.

A felt instant relief as soon as I was on the bus, but I noticed Chloe didn't relax until the bus got moving. We didn't talk much, instead we ate the donuts and had the hot chocolate.

It was late and I could tell Chloe was exhausted. She fought it off till about her second cup of hot chocolate, when her eyelids started to droop.

"You should get some sleep." I said. The bus was dead quiet, only the hum of the engine and buzz of the radio could be heard. There were two other passengers, both staring out the window.

She tried to bite back a yawn. "It won't be long, will it? An hour and a half?" she said quietly.

"Close to double that. We're on the milk run."

She looked confused. "What?"

"The route that hits all the little towns."

I took her empty cup then watched as she squirmed around, trying to get comfortable. I balled up her discarded sweater and put it against my shoulder.

"Go on, I don't bite." I teased.

A smile danced across her face. "And from what I hear, that's a good thing."

I chuckled, not from her bad joke, but because we could smile again, a small danger behind us. "Yeah, it is."

She leaned against my shoulder. I was amazed how much she trusted me.

"In a few hours, you'll be in a bed." He said. "Bet that's a good thing, huh?"

She smiled, but it slipped off. "What if—"

"Andrew isn't there? Or he didn't take them in? the we'll find Simon and we'll splurge on a cheap motel. We are getting a bed tonight. Guaranteed." I said, mostly because I wanted a bed as much as she did.

"And a bathroom."

I chuckled again. "Yeah, and a bathroom."

"Thank God." She said before putting her head back on my shoulder and relaxing. "What are you looking forward to?" she asked.

"Food." There was no hesitation.

She laughed. "I bet. Hot food, that's what I want."

"And a shower. I really want a shower.

"Well, you'll have to fight me for it. If that guy could smell my hair color, I didn't do a very good job of rising it out. Which may explain why it feels so gross."

I felt a small knot form in my stomach. "About that. The color. I didn't mean—"

"I know." She said. "You just picked something that would make me look different. And it did."

The knot unwound itself. "Yeah, but it looks fake. Even those guys could tell. Wash it out and we'll get some of the red stuff you like."

She closed her eyes, and the conversation was over. With no one to talk to, and nothing to talk about, a tune crept into my head. I hummed it lightly, trying to put my finger on where I heard it but I didn't ring a bell.

Her head lifted again and I realized she had heard me. "Sorry, I've got this stupid tune stuck in my head. No idea what it is."

To my surprise Chloe sang a few bars to a song I'd never heard before, one perfectly matching my tune.

"Uh, yeah, how'd…?"

"My fault. My mom used to sing it to me when I couldn't sleep, so I was singing it last night. It's the Monkees—the world's first boy band." Her gaze flicked up to met mine. "And I've just lost any scrap of cool I ever possessed, haven't I?"

"At least your not the one still singing it."

She smiled and rested her head on my shoulder for the final time before she drifted off. I continued to hum in a way that didn't seem as pretty as her singing.

AN- I have more stories in Derek's POV that you can find on my profile. The whole that I was writing this story, I was listening to Jason Derulo's Riding Solo. God, it's my song of the moment, I can't get it out of my head! Hope you liked the story, leave me a review just sayin' what you thought of it. I take suggestions for what other parts you'd like me to re-write, but I only like to write in Chloe and Derek's POV. Hope you liked it. ^^