A/N: This has been sitting in my computer for months but I was too chicken to post it. I have such a soft spot for Derek so this happened. It's not pretty.
Derek is a virgin.
At least that's what he likes to tell himself.
Derek never had sex with Kate, but she had sex with him. Kate likes to taunt him about it. She likes to pretend it was mutual. But they both know the truth.
He was young, naive, and completely innocent. He didn't have friends and he was awkward and dorky. The only friends he had were his cousins and Laura. Kate had smiled at him and approached him. It was so different from the looks and wide berth he received from others. Her hands were soft and gentle, her laugh sweet and pleasant. She had smiled and been kind to Derek.
Until she wasn't.
Derek tries to forget. Now and even then. But he can't. He can't escape what Kate did to him.
In the beginning it was purely innocent. They would meet and talk for hours. Derek enjoyed her company because she listened. It was a nice change from the pack where nobody could ever finish a sentence and someone was always talking over you.
Kate placed her hand on his, eyes full of sympathy and interest.
Derek was only fifteen.
Wolves don't get sick. But whenever somebody smiles at Derek with sympathy and interest, he feels the urge to vomit.
He's mesmerized by those caramel eyes until they crinkle with interest and a hint of sympathy.
Derek flees, the acrid taste of bile in his mouth.
He avoids Stiles for a week after that.
Derek showed Kate where he lived once when she asked. He hadn't let her near the house or inside because he knew his family would be able to smell her. He didn't want them to ask questions. He wanted something for himself for once.
After that, Kate took him to her apartment. It was small, messy, and smelled faintly of gun powder and a familiar scent that burned his nose, but he couldn't quite place.
She led him to her bedroom and she sat on the rumpled sheets, smiling coyly.
Derek was only fifteen.
With a gleam in her eyes, she grabbed his hand and pushed him down onto the bed.
It had felt good at first, her hands on his body, but then it didn't. He asked her to stop, begged, but she was strong. Somehow stronger than him.
He was dizzy and weak. Suddenly he remembered that scent.
Wolfsbane.
When Derek came to, ropes laced with wolfsbane were wrapped around his wrists and ankles, tying him to the bed. He was bare, his clothes a messy pile on the floor. He looked to his right and there Kate Argent sat on a chair by the bed, naked and admiring a crossbow in her hands.
Her smile was no longer kind or sweet.
She stood, hovering above him and uttered one word, "Loup-garou."
Then everything went pitch black.
A few weeks later, Derek's sixteenth birthday came and went.
Three months later, he came home with Laura from school to find their home a burnt shell and their family gone.
Derek could never forgive himself for letting an outsider in. With every breath, the guilt piled on. He was alive and his family, his pack, wasn't.
Stiles took some of that pain away, though.
He didn't smile like Kate had. His smiles were open and honest, his hands calloused, strong, firm. He made Derek feel like it was okay to be alive even if his pack wasn't.
Kate had torn him apart. She had ruined him and robbed him of his innocence.
But Stiles…he put Derek back together and gave him a purpose.
If it breaks off randomly, it was either on purpose or I forget to add a line break, sorry!