There weren't many things that Willow Maker was sure of these days. But one of the few things that she knew she could absolutely rely on at all times were her instincts. Her intuitions. That little tingling sensation that titillates in her finger tips at the most inconvenient times. Or the pure instinct to get out of wherever she was.
Now, to say that she liked to react to everything instinctively would be an untruth; but in the end, it's all she's got.

Willow doesn't get along with her head. With thoughts, pros and cons, contemplating the options and acting in favour of the most logical conclusion. If it was up to her, she would have to take an eternity to get her thoughts sorted and act accordingly. Her mind wasn't clear and structured like people claimed it normally was supposed to – frankly, Willow was beginning to think of this concept as a myth; her mind was a fog. It wasn't worth investing the time. Her guts were quicker; and to be honest, most of the time, it does turn out as the right thing to do.

Today, she wasn't too sure about it. Sometimes it gets to a point where she can't distinguish between what her guts say and what she thinks they would say. Did this even make sense? As always, she wasn't sure. But it tingled in her finger tips and made her wind in her bed again. She wasn't surprised at herself being awake anymore and she didn't bother to check on the time. All that mattered for her at this point were three facts: It was night time; she couldn't sleep and she probably wouldn't in the near future, either. Not that this was up to her in any way.

Again, she turned, and this time she sat up to flip her pillow over and lay back down on its cool side. Shoving her hands under the soft material of her flannel bedsheets didn't make the tingling go away – as always. She had started feeling this the second she had set foot back into this little, nostalgic town and it was gradually growing to annoy the hell out of her. With a swift movement, she removed the soft winter duvet from her body and shivered for a second at the cold air surrounding the comfortable bubble of her bed. She had almost forgotten that the heating in this house wasn't working yet. Wrinkling her nose in some kind of annoyed disappointment, she bent over and grabbed the navy cotton shorts that she had tossed off her body earlier. Without lifting her feet, she strode over to her still packed suitcase and grabbed an oversized burgundy jumper from the very top of it to put it on while her feet directed her out of her room. It wasn't exactly her choice; hell, she didn't even know where she was going. She descended the stairs silently, slipped half-heartedly into her black sneakers (ignoring her striking, pulled-up socks) and held the jingling keys in her hand, not caring too much about her sleeping father and brother upstairs. She didn't look back once as she followed down the road, all led by the growing tugging that was slowly, continuously creeping up to her elbows.

The night was as dark and cold as Willow could have expected it to be if she had used her brain for once. Caught up in the obscure daze of her head, she continued to follow her instincts only and didn't really feel the cold embracing the goose bumps of her exposed legs. She didn't know if she was supposed to be surprised by the place that her feet were leading her. The ring of house keys were aggressively jingling in her shaking hands as the feeling that had originated as a soft, unpleasant tingle had gradually turned into little lightnings, striking from her finger tips through her nervous system up to the very top of her shoulders. For the first time that night, after a walk that must have lasted at least forty-five minutes, Willow's thoughts didn't seem as distorted as they usually did.

"What the hell is happening," she mumbled to herself, looking down to her arms and hands in her oversized jumper that were completely out of control. It wasn't the cold causing this, that she was sure of for once. She lifted her head, ignoring the tangled mess of her hair and looked up to the building whose parking lot she had arrived at.

"Beacon Hills High," she whispered to herself and tilted her head in slight confusion. This confusion vanished when she discerned a small movement to her right and looked down to a man lying in the shadows. She hadn't noticed him before, and now that she had, she jumped clumsily to the left, instinctively trying to get some space between her and the creepy man. That was until she took a closer look. He was sitting on the ground (actually rather lying), leaning against a car and holding his obviously hurt chest. Catching his sight, she tilted her head and crouched down to be on his eye level. His fierce green eyes had long caught sight of her and she could see it in his eyes that he was struggling to speak.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he hissed between his heavy breathing and immediately flinched at the pain emerging in his chest. Willow pursed her lips in concern when the wind moved the clouds and allowed the moonlight to brighten the man in front of her – revealing the crimson blood that was all over him. This was why she was here.

"Get out of here. Now!" he ordered firmly but Willow didn't care to listen. Instead, she looked back up to his glazed green eyes and softly shook her head, setting a little lopsided smile onto her face.

"You look like you could need some help."

Derek Hale had expected a lot of different ways that this night might have turned out in. What he most certainly had not expected was absolutely everything that had happened in the end. The vet had disappeared, or probably just turned into his alpha form; the two god damn idiots had lured the danger right into the school and all he had done in the past ten minutes was getting his body in a more or less upright position and trying not to bleed out, pushing the healing process. And now, on top of all this frustration, who or whatever was responsible for this freak show, had decided to put another innocent right into the fray. The russet doe-eyes glaring at him in annoying goodness and fatigue, blinked a few times as she held her hand out to him. Derek kept his eyes on the offering hand for a few seconds before looking back into the tiredly observing eyes. The dark circles around her eyes were immense – hell, they were actual circles – and her gaze seemed like the one of an office worker who's had enough of his job after 20 years of filing the same documents on the same computer for the same salary.

"Didn't you listen?" he spat weakly. "Go. Now. I can handle myself, get out of here right now!" His eyes jumped to and fro, worry and guilt growing inside of him. He had no idea where the alpha was and every second of this girl just being here was another second he jeopardized another life. And hell, he's got enough of that on his account.

Willow sighed tiredly as she dissolved her crouching position and instead shifted into sitting cross-legged in front of the hot-tempered man. She saw that this – unfortunately – wouldn't be as easy as she had hoped it would – but she couldn't just walk away. By now, she knew that walking away wouldn't restore her peace but instead nag her even more. She noticed happily that the unpleasant tingling in her limbs had completely faded as she unapologetically placed a hand on the man's leg that she was sitting next to and looked him in the eyes.

"Don't worry about me, alright? I know what I'm doing here. At least kind of." Note that this was an utter lie. "This is not the first time I'm doing this, and believe me, I'd prefer to lie in my bed right now and stare at the ceiling, instead of wandering around the town, looking for injured men. It's cold as hell, I can't feel my legs and I get the feeling that you are probably far worse off. Just assuming here, no offense. Now, whatever you are, pushing me away won't solve the matter we're having here right now, so please take my hand and let me help you. It'll all be over soon enough and we can get back to living our lives. Please?"

Willow couldn't read what was going on in the stranger's overly expressive eyes but she hoped that he would let her get him out of here, into safety – wherever that was supposed to be – and then return to her warm, comfortable bed. He let out a reluctant snort and stared daggers into Willow's exhausted expression, trying to estimate the danger that this girl was emitting. Willow sighed again, feeling sorry for herself and her stupidity. She shouldn't have dropped the 'whatever-you-are' bomb, seeing his now hostile tenseness. It reminded her of a wild, cornered animal.

"I'm not the bad guy, okay?" she whispered softly and stroked the leg under her hand with her thumb, like she uses to when her dog acted like this. She didn't even feel bad for actively comparing this man to her dog; apart from the fact that she was saying random standard phrases. She didn't know if there even was a bad guy to begin with. But then on the other hand, what had left this man with these kinds of injuries?

"What are you?" he asked tensely, observing her every move while trying to sit up farther. Arising entirely was out of the question at the moment, as he had to focus on the girl in front of him. She blinked slowly before planting another half-hearted smile onto her face.

"Concerned. Come on." She rose in a flowy movement and threw one of her legs over Derek's body, now standing above him and bending down, attempting to tuck her arms under his armpits to lift him up. He sent her a vicious snarl at this attempt and made her sigh again, squatting again and meeting his eyes on an equal level.

"If you haven't noticed, I am unarmed," she mentioned, gesturing to the only things she had on her: her navy shorts and her oversized jumper. Derek sent her a pointy look, making her moan in annoyance. With a swift move, she lifted her red jumper, revealing nothing but a stomach and a giant scar that Derek left unmentioned. No weapons. She dropped the jumper as she continued: "As well as physically fragile and altogether defenseless. If anyone should worry about their safety, it's me." The side of his nose twitched for a second as he sent the keys in her hand a suggestive glare. "Oh please, I need them to get back home," she mumbled under her breath, suppressing another groan and keeping herself from leaving the man right here and stomping back home. She had placed her hands under his arms again, noticing the lack of resistance.

"I can do that myself." He brushed her off with one of his hands, leaving a nice stamp of blood on her jumper. Willow internally thanked her mindlessness for picking exactly this jumper. Red on red goes unnoticed. She stepped away from him, watching the poor guy as he stubbornly tried to get to his feet on his own, painfully slowly at that, and without leaving Willows gaze once. This one was a very, very suspicious one. It didn't take long for him to lose his balance, making Willow serve as his loyal crook.

"To the left," Derek instructed flatly while stubbornly looking out of the window, holding another wince at the cough that left his throat. "The other left," he added annoyedly, making Willow twitch for a second before trying to undo her mistake. Out of necessity, she was driving his car, transporting him to wherever he needed to go. She had expected an apartment or house or… any building. Not the woods in which she has been driving around for at least 10 minutes.

"Care to explain what left you there half-dead?" She sucked at small talk, and that big time. But it felt better than the menacing silence that Derek emitted. She turned her head over to Derek for his response and abruptly hit the brakes at the sight of his unsupported, dangling head.

"Hey, hey!" she called out, a wave of heat overflowing her body. She undid her seatbelt to bend over to him and gently slap his cheeks, trying to get him back to consciousness. "No, no, no, no." She had to actively pull herself together to not become hysterical – ignoring the fact that she already had. She rushed out of her seat to run around the car and yank the door to Derek open, grabbing him by his collar and pulling him back and forth.

"Open your eyes, open your eyes, open your eyes!" she shouted at him. "Okay, alright," she said agitatedly, seeing that this was no use; jumping back a few steps and jumping up and down, trying to brace up. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry," she apologised as she punched him right in the face.

His eyes flew open and he inhaled sharply, not being able to comprehend what had just happened. Willow stood still, petrified in her post-punch posture, a relieved disbelief in her eyes. "Thank bloody god," she exhaled, looking over Derek to make sure he wouldn't faint anytime soon again. "You need to stay awake, alright?" she asked, catching his confused gaze. "Whatever tiredness you feel, you need to resist. I need you stay awake. Talk to me, look at me, count my freckles or insult me, it doesn't matter. Just do anything to stay with me, okay?"

"Did… Did you throw a punch at me?" The menacing tone in his voice, however weak it was, made her slowly walk a few steps back, stiffly holding the scary gaze of his unforgiving green eyes.
"Let's uhm, let's get going, shall we?" She chuckled nervously as she suddenly broke his gaze and stomped back to the other side of the car. She was not going to admit that. Nope.

"So… I won't get an answer, will I?" she asked quietly, not really expecting any response. It wasn't so much Derek unwilling to answer her but rather him being unable. He had led her to his family house in the middle of the woods; reluctantly, but Derek grew desperate. His wound didn't heal as it was supposed to, given the fact that it was caused by an alpha's claws and the only medical tools he knew of were in his house. It got easier for him to stay awake, and as much as he hated the idea of this annoying girl kneeling in front of him, bandaging his wounds, she was the only thing that he had right now. Whatever had sent her, be it coincidence, destiny or a higher force, Derek couldn't help but feel uneasy about it. It wasn't him who needed the help; the alpha was in the school, alongside some dorky teenagers. But he also couldn't let her enter the damn school, being bound to die.

"Personally, I'm not a fan of small talk," she continued, rather talking to herself.

"Then why don't you ever shut your-" Derek was interrupted by a cough that erupted from the back of his throat.

"Hey, easy, easy," Willow soothed him, placing her hand at the side of his neck and looking up to him with concern radiating in her russet eyes. The itchy burning in his throat faded and left him as exhausted as before. With a final glance at his facial expression, to make sure he wouldn't cough anytime soon again, she attended her attention back to his bare chest and the stitches with which he had closed his wound. Patching it all up with a big bandage, she stepped back and looked at her work. Though, indecisively.

"You sure you don't want to go to a hospital?" she asked for the fifth time.

"Very damn sure."

"And you will be alright?"

"Yes."

Willow wrinkled her nose and tilted her head at the grumpy man sitting in front of her on the staircase of this abandoned house. She couldn't figure out what kind of place this was and she wasn't eager to, either. She knew this was the part where she left and never saw him again. She knew the procedure. But she had never been drawn to someone in such a catastrophic state.

"Do you have a phone?" she asked suddenly, making Derek rise his head and meet her tired gaze.

"What?"

"Do you have a phone?" she repeated slowly, making Derek angry again before he averted his eyes with a snort and spat a simple 'no'. He needed her gone, as fast as possible. He could feel his wound healing and this wasn't a place for her to be. She nodded slowly.

"Then pen and paper?" She was a persistent one, and Derek didn't know if he should be thankful or not. Despite his averted face, his eyes found hers and saw surprisingly not only tiredness in them but a certain determination that said she wasn't going to let go of this matter. He was not in the state to discuss such disputes. He nodded to a little table that was standing a few meters to the left and Willow followed his offer to see a little notebook sitting in the dust. With a winning smile, she walked over, grabbed the book and its pen and scribbled into it while walking back to Derek who had risen from his almighty throne on the stairs and was now standing right in front of her. She ripped the page out and handed it to the tall man.

"That's my address. If you need anything or if my bandaging isn't sufficient or you bleed out again or whatever, just come there." Derek stood silent, looking at the note and then at her. They held each other's gazes for a while, making Willow incredibly uncomfortable. She nodded slowly and made small steps toward the door, constantly under Derek's uncomfortably judging eyes. Bloody god, she hated his creepy staring and it made her blather again.

"I'm Willow, by the way." She was almost out of the door as she said that, only to disrupt the horrible silence that Derek, however, upheld. She quickly threw a 'bye', waving her hand awkwardly and making her keys jingle, and then sprinted away. The second she had left, Derek collapsed back onto the staircase and breathed as heavily as his body had been demanding him to all this time. He wasn't in the state to make sure she would find her way home by herself. But given the fact that she had found her way to him just as well, indicated that she wouldn't have any problems. He took a look at the crinkled piece of paper that was clutched in his fist before. She was an idiot for giving him her address.

Exhaustion started to sweep over her shivering body and this time she knew that it was no mysterious tingling feeling that caused it. She was cold and rubbed her arms under the red jumper as she walked down the road. If there was one thing that Willow always found, then it was the way back. She always remembered where she came from and she thanked her one and only talent dearly, especially right now. She had no idea what time it was but her burning eyes demanded to close and finally go to sleep, indicating it must have been at least four in the morning. She barely ever felt tiredness before this hour but this time she had to pull herself together and keep walking. She was slowly drifting back into the familiar daze.

Flashing lights caught her attention and made her snap back into reality, glaring at the car that had stopped next to her. She had to squint her sensitive eyes at the light and finally raised her hand to protect her sight. It was a police car; this fact confused her but she didn't want to complain. She could see the deputy inside talking to her but in her state, she didn't understand him until he got out of his car and walked up to her.

"Willow Maker?" he asked, making her blink in confusion and taking a few steps back.

"Yes?" she answered hesitantly, not entirely sure of this situation. The deputy however seemed relieved and relaxed his shoulders as he took a few gentle steps towards her and supported her with an arm.

"Please come with me." It sounded more like a plead than an order, so Willow nodded uncertainly and sat down on the passenger seat, observing the deputy's relaxed facial features as he started the engine. He grabbed the little radio from his dashboard and started talking into it in code, using several numbers that Willow wasn't familiar with. What she did understand however, was him telling his colleagues that he had found her. She averted her eyes from the deputy and tried to focus on her fingers in her lap instead, trying to escape the exhaustion. She slowly touched all her fingers with her thumb, again and again until the effort needed to focus eased out.

"How did you end up in the middle of the road, Willow?" He looked at her for a second while he was driving and noticed quickly that she wasn't going to answer him. He looked down on her, clearly not being dressed properly and having some dirt sticking to her clothes here and there. "What happened to you?"

"How do you know my name?" She completely ignored his questions and concerns, feeling like hers were more important. He looked at her for only a second before a little smile found his lips that she did not reflect.

"Your father stormed the station a couple hours ago and reported you as missing. We've been looking everywhere ever since." She looked at him in comprehension, biting her lip nevertheless. She hadn't spent a single thought to the possibility that her family might notice her being away. And even if they did, Willow certainly didn't expect them to instantly call the police. But then, however, she also understood why they had. So, she just nodded in agreement and remained silent for the rest of the ride.

She would never admit it but she dozed off several times, waking up only a second later to her head that had fallen to the side, just like Derek's only an hour ago or so. Except that he didn't snap out of it a second later again. She could feel the car slowing down and curiously opened her eyes, expecting to see the front porch of her house; but instead she gasped silently at the sight in front of her.

"Beacon Hills High," she read for the second time this night and pursed her lips in concern at the sight of the many police cars and ambulances that were stuffed on the parking lot, brightening the night with their many lights. She swiftly turned her head to the deputy that sighed a little but tried to uphold his polite smile.

"You're not the only incident we're having tonight. Busy night." She looked back at the scenery in front of her, quickly leaving the vehicle and standing next to it, using it to support her balance. Her heart beat fastened and the fog of her mind cleared a little, only to give room to loads and loads of nasty concerns. She had been here already this night but she thought that the man she had found had been the reason. What did she miss? She clearly missed something bloody important, otherwise this mess wouldn't be taking place. She frantically looked around for any casualties but could neither find anyone injured nor any tingle in her fingertips. Without thinking, she had started walking, merging with the chaos of people. Where was her father? Her brother? Anyone she knew?

A hard but familiar thump against her bum made her turn around quickly and look into the most familiar brown eyes.
"Echo!" she called relieved and kneeled down to her Labrador lady, only for her to jump around her excitedly as well as dutifully and running to the left, where she had come from. Willow was wise enough to follow her and soon caught sight of a tall brunet figure that she could easily recognize as her dad's. She couldn't even say anything; his blue eyes had found her immediately as he stomped towards her and pulled her into a bear hug.

The air was pushed out of her body and Willow gave her very best at not dying. She almost felt her spine crack; but she couldn't help but relax into the warmth emitting his body. Slowly she wrapped her arms around his waist and stroked his back with her thumb.
"God, Willow," he mumbled into her hair with sincere emotion; relief, disbelief and concern, and pulled away from her to look her in the face. "Can't even keep you in a damn bed." She chuckled lightly and shrugged with a drained smile on her face.

"Last time." That you catch me.

Her father sighed dramatically, not knowing what he was supposed to do with this daughter of his, and to be quite frank, he was not in the state to scold her the way his irrational side felt like she deserved to. He was too relieved and stirred up to hold a long speech to his teenage daughter who wasn't responsible for her sleepwalking anyway. Instead, he scanned her body for injuries and anything other out of place. Apart from the fact that she was obviously in her pajamas and only a jumper, her feet caught his attention. To be exact, the ridiculous socks she was wearing. He looked up at her in disbelief and was ready to comment on this fashion disaster, as she raised her finger warningly.

"Don't. You. Dare."

"Dad. Dad! Come on, please listen to- Aw, come on, don't ignore me!" Stiles yelled at his father's back and threw his arms up in desperation while clumsily following his every step.

"Stiles, no." Sheriff Stilinski had abruptly stopped and turned to face his twitchy son who was, again, not leaving him alone. He furrowed his light brows at the concerned look in his son's eyes and sighed. "Look. This is a crime scene, we have yet to find a dead body, deal with traumatized teenagers, find a missing girl and on top of that make a warrant for a potential murderer. You… You go to your friends, okay? Consult them. Help them and let them help you. I don't believe that this has left you unharmed." The sheriff raised his finger as a warning, as Stiles tried to contradict and keep snooping in his father's business. The finger made him close his mouth, look to the side for a second and then look back to his father in confusion.

"A girl is missing?!" Sheriff Stilinski resisted the urge of throwing his head back into his neck and instead rubbed the bridge of his nose as he looked at his son.

"Later, alright?"

"Is it that girl?" Stiles pointed at the girl in the funny socks behind his dad, making him turn around in confusion. She definitely did not look like a deputy and not like any other person who would be supposed to be here either. Partly covered in dirt, a mess of hair on her head and not being dressed for outdoors, this looked like a book illustration of a missing person. His dad glared back at him, reintroducing him to his finger while walking off.

"Later, Stiles."

"I didn't say anything!" he called back, pulling the sides of his lips down in defeat. But he couldn't spend any thoughts on the reunited family, as he saw Scott striding off in a manner that did not look healthy at all. "Wha- Wait! Scott! Hold up!"

G'day, ladies and gents!

Now this is story is my first in many different ways. (aehm, two.)

First of all, this is my first story in the Teen Wolf fandom, which is so interesting for all of you. Oh yes, I can imagine.
However, with this story I want to address my adopted son Stiles who deserves happiness. And if the canon can't give him that, then there is our fanfiction army to patch up our hearts.

As another point, I wanted to draw attention to the fact that English is not my first language.
This being the first fanfiction ever that I have originally written in English, I am a little insecure about the outcome.
It's not overall terrible I suppose, but I may use terms or expressions in wrong ways, mess up the grammar here or there when trying to make some more complex sentence structures or just sound a little too clumsy.

In this case, whatever comes to your attention, please tell me! I'd love to improve my creative writing skills and am thankful for every point :D

Also, yes, yes, I apologise for the lack of Stiles action in this chapter. This was more of an introduction to my OC/the story itself.
But do not worry, lads, Stiles will have his moment in the next chapter.

Now, I usually write quite long chapters with about 6 - 8k words. This is a very short chapter to me but I'm curious about your opinions, whether you prefer long chapters or not.

Having said that, I don't wanna keep y'all from reading my, uhm, stuff.

Have fun!

PS: I've been playing around with Polyvore when I procrastinated on writing. You can check it out on my profile :D

See ya!