Special thanks to my Co-Author Persephone Price. Chapter 2 of my other story, remember me should be out sometime next week. Writing will be harder because I started school Monday but leave reviews so I know I'm not waisting my time. Check my profile for a picture of the female OC.

"Derek!" a girl squealed as she jumped on the man in question.

He caught her effortlessly and pulled her closer, grabbing a hold of her bare legs as she wrapped them around his waist. He buried his face into her neck and savored her scent. Peaches and cream. She could feel him smiling into her neck and she couldn't help by wonder why.

"I missed you," she muttered, pulling back from the hug to search his clear, blue eyes. Love and adoration; longing.

Even a blind man would easily have been able to see that he was in love with her. She'd had a nagging feeling that he wanted to be more than friends for a while now, but didn't think of him in that way. Sure, he was hot; any woman or man with eyes could see that. And on top of that, he was an overall sweet guy; you just had to get to know him first. He had to want to let you in, though, and she was almost positive that no one had seen this side of him in a while. He was (understandably) unstable in an emotional sense, and, if things didn't work out between them, she didn't want him to be broken. She couldn't risk hurting him. So, she just didn't go there.

"I missed you too," he murmured back.

That was all she needed to hear to know that he still cared about her. He had only been away for a few months, but she'd had terrible separation anxiety. After the fire had killed both of their families, all they had was each other and Laura; and now that even Laura was gone, they really only had each other. She knew why he went to Beacon Hills, and she knew that the reason was very dangerous.

But she could help; she was a werewolf, too. He didn't want her in Beacon Hills, though. Something that could kill Laura could easily kill both of them as well. It wasn't safe. However, she had adamantly explained that this was even more reason for them to go together.

He'd insisted that didn't want her to get hurt. She'd cried and said that he was all she had left. He almost caved. Almost. But he did eventually. He always did when it came to her.

And here they were, three months later, in a huddled heap of tears and limbs, falling apart in each other's arms. Neither said anything. That's just how they were. The silent while suffering type. Someone cleared their throat and Derek turned to glare at them. It was the first time she realized they had an audience, which was odd because usually her heightened hear enabled her to hear everything. But maybe she'd been just a tad distracted.

Two teenage boys stood in the doorway, looking sheepish. Derek started to reprimand them, but she placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

"Who are they?" she asked bluntly. She hadn't meant to be rude, but she was sure it sounded that way.

"This is Stiles..." he explained, pointing to the skinnier teen. He was cute, in a boyish way. Not someone she would date, but good-looking nevertheless. She giggled a little. He seemed like the dorky type.

"...And this is Scott," Derek continued. She couldn't call the other teen cute; cute was a vast understatement. He was way beyond cute – sexy, even. She looked down to avoid his curious gaze and wondered what the hell Derek was doing with two teenage guys in his house. His halfway burned down house.

They had to be a part of this mess; he wouldn't invite them in, otherwise. She tilted her head to the side as she noticed something strange about "Stiles." Then it hit her: he was human! Her teeth rapidly turned into fangs, her fingers elongated into claws, and her eyes glowed a dangerous icy blue. Her transformation prompted the other two werewolves to follow suit; soon, there were three wolves and one very scared and bewildered-looking human.

What the hell is he doing here? Do they not realize he is a threat? she thought frantically. She didn't have anything against humans and she didn't particularly enjoy spilling blood, but sometimes killing was the only option. Her eyes studied Derek; he wasn't crouched down to fight her, he was just changed as a precaution. But why? Scott, on the other hand, stood crouched down and ready to pounce, if the need arose. He was protecting the human.

She took a step back and contemplated the circumstances. There has to be a perfectly good explanation as to why he is here. Maybe he didn't even know... He surely does now, though. She phased back but was still on high alert. After a moment, she stepped out from the dark shadow cast by the wall.

"Explain," she stated simply.

After Derek went through the situation with her, she toned down her ferocity. But she was still a little leery – she didn't like the idea of a normal human knowing about their lifestyle, but there was nothing she could do now. Besides, Stiles seemed loyal enough; she hadn't been around that long and she could already tell he was the Robin to Scott's Batman.

However, Stiles turned out to be a complete sweetheart and even gave her a hug as they left. She apologized for her vehemence, but he just shrugged it off.

"You're not the first werewolf to threaten my life," he started, looking pointedly at Derek, "And you're probably not the last, either, as sad as that may be."

She couldn't help but grin at Stiles' nonchalant attitude. Sure, he shrunk back when Derek glared at him, but that didn't stop him from spewing out another smartass comment about Derek's anger management issues on his way through the door.

When the two teenagers were gone, she turned to Derek. "You two should totally date," she teased.

He grimaced. "Cute," was his only reply.

She nearly fell to the floor laughing. "Really, Derek," she said jokingly, "there's no need to be such a downer all the time."

The two teens stepped into the Jeep and the livelier of the pair spoke first: "Dude, she was so hot!" Stiles said, flailing his arms ridiculously.

"Can you just start the car? I know it's Saturday, but I would still like to get home before curfew."

Scott really wasn't in the mood to talk, especially not about her. He heard Stiles mutter something about him not minding before. Sensing Scott's irritation, he shut his mouth. Stiles was silent for a few minutes, allowing his best friend space. As expected, however, the silence was short-lived.

"What's wrong?" he questioned finally. Stiles always knew when something was bothering his best friend – they'd known each other practically their entire lives, and he had always been the one to deal with Scott when he was having problems.

Ever since his father had left, Scott had had issues expressing himself. He didn't want to open up to his mom, because she already felt terrible about the situation without him making things worse. So, naturally, Stiles was left to deal with the brunt of things.

After a while, it became a habit; letting Stiles help him instead of his own mother. He knew she wanted to help him, but she just didn't know how – especially not now. Even Stiles had trouble addressing his problems, but that didn't stop him from trying. Stiles would do anything for his best friend, and Scott knew this. They had been through a lot together; too much for him to abandon Scott when he needed him the most.

"Look, you know you can talk to me about anything." And he truly meant it. There wasn't much left for him to learn about Scott, and he was sure becoming a werewolf outweighed anything else that could possibly happen to him.

"Yeah, I know..." However, Scott didn't sound very convinced.

Stiles, on the other hand, couldn't believe he needed convincing. "Dude, I found out you were a supernatural creature and I stuck around, even when I should've had your little werewolf ass killed. Only a real friend would do that. I know that up until last year you still slept with a night-light... I have my own flipping key to your house, I spend more time with you than I do with my own dad and I know that you would give up anything to be with Allison..." He paused for a moment. "...even me."

Scott's head snapped up to look at his best friend. He hadn't noticed it before, but he did in fact put Allison ahead of Stiles. It was only after it'd been said aloud that he fully realized it. Funny how the truth can make you feel like a complete douche, he thought wryly.

Stiles had been there for him since the first day of kindergarten, and Allison had only been around since the first day of his sophomore year of high school. He was angry with himself for even subconsciously thinking he would still protect Allison before Stiles, especially if she wasn't with him anymore.

He felt like he was in one of those cheesy novels (like Twilight), where a male character was so hopelessly in love with a girl that he was willing to give up everything. He protected her before his friends and family; he was even wiling to fight against them for her. He was fiercely loyal to her and she still chose the jackass over him. And look where the other guy ended up: with a freaking half-vampire baby as a girlfriend! Being faithful to her benefited him in no way and he was still willing to do it. After seeing that movie, Scott had scoffed at the thought, no one could really be that stupid. Oh, the irony… He was that stupid. He ignored Derek's warnings about Allison, knowing that someday she would join in on family trade: werewolf hunting. Allison was destined to be the death of him, literally and figuratively.

Scott hadn't said anything to Stiles after his confession; he hadn't even bothered to lie. It wouldn't make a difference. The damage had already been done, and they both knew the truth. Stiles pulled up to Scott's house and waited for him to get out. Neither spoke. Scott opened his mouth, but couldn't force himself to say anything. With a sigh, he got out the car and watched his best friend leave for what might be the last time. If his relationship with Allison ruined his friendship with Stiles, he might never forgive himself.

Scott awoke the next morning to his cell phone ringing. "Hello?" he slurred groggily. Who could be calling me, he wondered.

Sure, lacrosse stardom had bought him a taste of popularity, but none of those new "friends" had his number. He hadn't the slightest clue who would be calling him, but the voice on the other end definitely wasn't what he expected. It was the girl from last night: Letty, or something like that. The girl that had tried to attack his best friend (or was it ex-best friend?). He cringed at the word.

She was calling to ask him to go shopping with her.

"Why did you call me?" he asked curiously; it didn't make sense. He didn't know her, and she didn't know him.

"Well, I would make Derek go, but he can't because you made him the most wanted fugitive in the state. And I don't really know anyone else."

He felt a tiny bit guilty, but then wondered if this was a plan to get him alone and kill him for making her best friend miserable. He shrugged that thought away; she could probably kill him any day of the week if she really wanted to.

"Sure," he agreed before giving her directions to her house. She told him she would be over soon. He showered and put a little extra work into his outfit. Even if he wasn't interested in her, she was still a hot girl. And he couldn't go anywhere with a hot girl dressed in his usual t-shirt and jeans.

Thirty minutes later, she was at his door dressed in a white off-the-shoulder top and dark jeans. Her hair was straightened and she didn't look nearly as scary as she had the previous day.

"Hi," she greeted with a smile.

"Umm hi," he stuttered in reply. He fumbled with his keys, making sure to lock the door as he followed her out to her car. She drove a white 2005 Avalon. So, she wasn't as flashy as Derek…

"You look nice," she commented lightly after they were a little ways down the road.

"And you're not nearly as scary as last night," he said in response.

"Would you prefer for me to claw your eyeballs out with my bare hands or rip your throat apart with my teeth?" she joked, flashing her fangs threateningly in his direction. She smirked when he flinched.

"You and Derek are way too violent for your own good," he remarked.

She shrugged and chose to ignore him. After that, the car ride was mostly silent, with the occasional threat or insult thrown in.

"I like you," she admitted after a while, grinning as she locked the car.

"What?" He asked, bewildered.

"Don't flatter yourself, idiot. I meant as a friend."

He muttered back another insult under his breath and she slapped his arm, laughing loudly. He was funny and hot; maybe she could get used to this…