I turn the key in the door, closing it temporarily. If everything had gone as planned I wouldn't have been able to walk through the door at this point – considering I'd be dead – but after becoming a werewolf it hasn't exactly been easy getting drunk. But with ten bottles of vodka I've managed as much, it just leaves my system before I'm ready to.

I lock the door behind me, and kick off my shoes. I've barely stepped onto the staircase as I hear a shriek from upstairs. A shriek that makes the hair on my arm rise, earning to rise higher. I run up the stairs, taking two at a time. I'm racing down the corridor, stopping before Stiles' open door. He's sitting on his bed, drenched in sweat and looking as if he'd seen Hell itself, and behind him with Stiles wrapped tightly in his arms is his father, rocking him gently back and forth, whispering 'it's okay, it's okay'. I lean on the doorframe, pressing my lips together. I'd like to say this is the first time this has ever happened, but it's been a recurring happening in this house for the past week. I'll be honest; it's freaking me out. And the worst part is that I can't help him, because I have no idea what's going on.

I just watch them until Stiles falls back asleep, and my uncle and I leave the room. He walks me to my bedroom, and I can tell from the circles under his eyes that he's not getting enough sleep.

'You should start using ear plugs,' I tell him, and he gives me one of those all-knowing, yet tired smiles.

'I can keep an eye on Stiles during the night – after all, I don't have a job I need to go to every morning.'

I watch his face, following the inner battle behind his exhausted eyes, before he sighs and I bite down on my bottom lip as a smile erupts. He nods, and I assure him he needs a good night's sleep, waving him back to his own bedroom. I close the door behind me, taking a deep breath as I walk over to my bed. I know that when I fall asleep, I'll simply endure my own nightmares. I'll be up again in a mere four hours.


I'm sitting with my legs crossed by the kitchen table, my hair hanging loosely around me in my natural curls that I have come to know so well over the past couple of weeks. Placed firmly between my hands is my third cup of coffee, and I haven't bothered with putting on more than my favourite t-shirt. It's dark green, it's all too big, and it's Derek's. I'd like to say I'm normal all that, that I've washed it a lot over the past two weeks. Truth is I haven't dared. I let him go, knowing I had to, but I wanted so badly to be selfish and ask him to stay. But he's gone, and this shirt is all I have left – and it still smells of him. I feel so pathetic at times, but then I feel so desperate that I can't make myself care. The only one who knows anything is Stiles. He hasn't told Scott, he promised me he hasn't, but I'm pretty sure he knows as well. The only thing Stiles told his dad was that 'it's complicated'. Definitely made him not want to have anything to do with it, thank god. Imagine the awkwardness.

I lift my head as Stiles comes into the kitchen, opening the fridge and sticking his head in.

'Bottom shelf to the right,' I say, taking a sip of my coffee.

'Huh? Oh! Thanks,' he grins as he grabs a plate I'd left for him with eggs and bacon. He puts it in the microwave to heat it up, before taking a seat opposite me. I'm staring into the dark liquid of my cup as I feel Stiles' touch, and I raise my gaze.

'You okay?' he asks, and I give a slight nod.

'I should be the one asking that question,' I say, clearing my throat. 'Stiles, what is going on with you?'

'I'm fine,' he says, flashing me a smile. Unfortunately he's a horrible liar. I give him a stern look as I cock my head to the side. He gets up and throws his backpack over his shoulder, taking the plate out of the microwave.

'Stiles–'

'I'll talk to you later!' he calls as he hurries towards the door.

'STILES–'

The door slams, and I groan inwardly. He might be a horrible liar, but he's good at avoiding you if he first realises you'll be asking questions. I pick up my phone, noticing a missed call from Peter. I sneer before ignoring it, trying to call Stiles. I quickly get voice mail instead, and it's clear he is trying to ignore me. I try him three times before giving up, putting my phone back down just as Uncle comes down as well.

'Thank you,' he sighs as he sees me, and I give him a welcoming smile. He'd done as I asked him to last night, and he'd slept through both of Stiles' wake-up screams. I tell him to sit down as I get up. I fill up his on–the –go mug with black coffee, no sugar, no cream. I also get out the lunch I prepared for him, and his relieved smile makes it all worthwhile. I walk him out to the car, and he makes me promise that I'll leave the house today. Of course I promise him, how can I not? If I'll keep it is entirely different.

Because I do as I always do when he's left: I go back inside, I turn on the TV and I wrap a blanket around me as I sit down on the couch. I don't know how many RomComs I've seen the past week, or how many episodes of Home and Away that I've endured. I know, it's not really that good but it's so extremely addictive, and it gets you emotionally invested. How can Romeo not tell Indi he's dying? How much can I hate Tamara and love Casey? I can even tell that the guy who plays Brax has got his hair cut since the last episode.

It's scary how easy you can invest all of yourself into something as meaningless as a TV show. Great coping mechanism, though. You get to not feel anything, and be entertained.

In the past half an hour Peter has called me fifteen times. I promised myself I'd keep an eye on him, and that promise keep nagging at the back of my mind. Like an itch I'm unable to catch – unless I actually pick up to hear what he has to say.

My phone lights up with Peter's name again, and this time I reach for it.

'What do you want?' I snap, pressing my lips together.

'Well look who finally decides to pick up. Ignoring me, are you?' he coos into the phone, making a growl form in the depth of my throat.

'Yes, I am,' I answer bluntly. 'Surprised?'

'Not really, but I need you to stop ignoring me. Meet me at Derek's loft in half an hour.'

'And why would I–'

I'm cut off by a bleeping sound, and I realised Peter's hung up on me. I grit my teeth together, knowing I have to go. I hurry up to my room, where I pull on sweatpants before going back downstairs to slip into a pair of extremely attractive UGGs. Winter or summer, they work whatever. After all, they were made for Australian guys to wear after surfing.

I grab my car keys and get into my little bubble, before taking the all too familiar drive to Derek's loft. As I get there, I kill the engine – and then I just sit there for a short time to gather myself. I haven't been here since the night I watched Derek drive off, and it feels weird being back. None the less I get out of my car and jog up the stairs. I walk towards the enormous door, grabbing the handle. Taking a deep breath I pull, and it opens slowly.

I'm about to take a step as two pair of eyes looks up at me. My breath catches in my throat, and Derek stands up. He looks so confused, and I feel my expression change from surprise, to angry, and then to fury.

Without a word I approach Derek, and as soon as I'm in arms reach I open my hands, spread my fingers and hit him as hard as I can manage across the face. He doesn't say anything, nor does he object. He's barely turned his face back to look at me, before I slap him again. I repeat a third time, before he speaks;

'Finished?'

I press my lips together as I take a deep breath through my nose.

'Good,' he says and I cross my arms over my chest. 'Now what are you doing here?'

'I called her, actually,' Peter says, finally making his appearance. Derek turns to him, but my gaze sticks to the youngest of the Hales.

'Why didn't you call me?' I ask, and I notice his hard swallow. I feel my rage boil up again, and I release my claws.

'LOOK AT ME!' I shout, feeling my glowing Alpha Red. Derek's jaw tightens as he meets my gaze, his eyes glowing an ice cold blue. 'What's going on? And where's Cora?'

'I can't tell you either,' he answers, and I heave.

'Seriously?' I tighten my hands into fists, allowing the pain to subside my rage. 'You're going to shut me out? You do remember how much I love that.'

'Calm down, all right?' he says, grabbing my wrist and forcing me to spread my hands. 'I want to, but I can't. To tell you what's going on I have to tell you what's happened and doing so will but Cora in grave danger. Do you understand?'

I bite down on my lip, but I nod. There's still one thing ha hasn't answered…

'Why didn't you call me?' I whisper, his hands still gripping my wrists.

'Why wasn't it your time popping up on my phone? Why wasn't it you who called me? Why wasn't it you?'


A/N: Well so yeah, this is the first chapter. The first one is always the most difficult one! I'm already working on the second chapter as well. However, I've got all too much on my plate these upcoming weeks, but I promise I'll het the chapter done as soon as I can. So far I think the new series/season is very intriguing, and I loved this Mondays episode – especially the scene where Derek gives out candy! Gosh, I really loved that. Anyway, I hope to give you more as soon as possible! I promise a lot of my own twist and turns as well as what the show offers, hoping to keep you all on your toes.