Chapter One: Search Party

At Beacon Hills Memorial

The scars I had been given as a talisman from the Alpha began to throb as I half-restrained Stiles with as arm around his waist; if I was sure I was the only one who could keep him from rushing back into Lydia's hospital room and staying at her bedside, and my patience was wearing thin as my pain threshold lowered. I knew Stiles' was worried about Lydia- she had certainly given everyone reasons to worry recently - but my twin brother simply couldn't grasp the concept that a Lydia was in the shower, and it wasn't like he could bust up in there like he was Han Solo rescuing Princess Lea from that Jaba the Hut or whoever turned her into a sex slave. Stiles claimed it wasn't creepy at all, such was the genius excuse he gave me, so of course I had to let him know that he sounded much creepier than he'd anticipated. It took all of my strength to look at Stiles' severely concerned expression and not let him back into the room, much less donkey-punch him in the tranchea for making me stretch my scars, and for being inconsiderate about it. Lydia was a girl, and he should know well enough that when a girl says she wants to be alone (even though she only half means it), she expects you to get the hell out of Dodge and leave her alone.

And yet, there's always a loophole in there somewhere; say perhaps, when said girl screams in that terrified way that spears into your eardrums and annihilates both temporal lobes of your brain. I gasped as Lydia's scream reached my hypersensitive ears, and I let Stiles wrench himself away from me in order to get back into the hospital room.

"Lydia!"

"What the hell was that?"

Bolting ahead of them, I was on Stiles' heels, but stopped short in the doorway. Something did not smell right, and barely-healed scars I'd been given that night when began to feel cold. I despised the feeling, but after a few moments I stepped into the room, sniffing repeatedly as the parents came rushing in with a security guard on their heels. Stiles had bolted for the bathroom; a moment later, he shouted:

"She's gone!"

Dad questioned Stiles and I for nearly half an hour, as though he would get anything else out of us besides the routine 'we-were-here-to-visit-our-friend' strong of answers. We wisely decided to omit the whole 'who-was-nearly-killed-from-a-werewolf-bite' part, of course- I bet that would go over just perfectly. Seeing as Dad's line of questioning was painfully and obviously getting no one anywhere, I headed for Stiles' Jeep as soon as his attention was averted from me in order to lecture Stiles on his "Responsibility As My Big Brother" and left my twin brother hanging out to dry. That lecture never made sense to me, since Dad could never remember who came out first, anyway.

Amazingly, Scott was waiting for us.

"Scott―" I started.

"I know― I was at Allison's!" he cut me off, reaching for the handle on the door.

"Get in!" Stiles called, using the remote on his keys.

I climbed into the back of the Jeep as Scott got into the passenger's seat. Stiles started his truck and he gave a cry as the headlights illuminated Allison's pale face. I could have told him she had been standing there, but then again Stiles was always a little oblivious at the most random times.

"My dad and five other men just left the house. They were armed with crossbows!"

"They sent on a searching party?" Scott asked.

"A hunting party," Allison and I corrected on the spot.

"After Lydia?!" Stiles' voice squeaked; he was looking a little too pale for comfort, and I squeezed his shoulder.

"Don't worry, honey; we'll find her, " I reassured him as Allison pulled open the door and climbed over Scott to get a seat next to me in the back. I leaned away to glance out the window at Dad, who was talking to Mrs. McCall and Mr. and Mrs. Martin; my palm rested against my womb, and I frowned. My scars, a trio of jagged slashes running across my stomach at a diagonal from just underneath my left breast to my right hip, were further agitating me; they throbbing wouldn't stop, and I loathed the inevitability of their eventual evolution into a set of annoyingly tender patches of inflamed skin. I cursed under my breathe, and saw Scott glance back at me out of the corner of my eye. I shook my head once as his dark brown eyes flickered to my twin brother, and he frowned hard, as Stiles floored it out of the parking lot.

"Wherever Derek is, I'm sure Lydia isn't far behind," Scott suggested.

"Yeah, because Derek Hale is going to be such a big help." I gave him a deadpanned look in the review mirror, and he shrugged.

"We've got to keep our options open, Stella."

I was about to tell him how much good that option would be before I realized that it might actually make some sense. Stiles jerked the wheel, and the we cried out in surprised as the Jeep nearly tipped over. Pressed into the window, it was hard for me to keep Allison at bay even with my ninja-like reflexes when my brother made another sharp turn.

"Can we at least find Lydia before you kill us in a wreck? I happen to like the air I breathe, thanks!" Scott growled, gripping the dashboard with his claws.

"Stiles, slow down! Stella, I'd appreciate it if you removed your claws," Allison said pointedly.

"Sorry," I gasped, retracting my claws as I steadied her next to me in the back seat. "And since when did you want to become a professional drag racer, Stiles?" I smacked the back of his headrest.

"Kind of in the zone, here!" he shot back over his shoulder, his eyes never leaving the asphalt road. "Backseat driving is not appreciated!"

"Neither is dying, smart ass."

Stiles turned onto a dirt road, the Jeep was racing past the trees. I was tossed into Allison and no matter how many times we tried we couldn't get our limbs from entangling.

"Stiles!"

"I'm sorry!"

He kept making sharp turns, and Allison and I couldn't hold each other off any longer. Neither of us had the patience for this, really, and feel like wasting energy on trying to detangle ourselves.

"Whoa. That's…kind of sexy."

I looked up and flipped dark hair out of my face to see Scott leaning over the back of his seat to stare at us.

"Shut up, Scott!" Allison had to laugh, and I mushed him in the face until he sat back down in the seat.

Hale House

I knew I really shouldn't have been giggling, but it couldn't be helped; it was too hard to hold it back. I was glad my scars had stopped bothering me, or it would have been too painful to laugh. The look on Scott's face was priceless as he swung back and forth, upside down. Stiles had ingeniusly discovered a hidden trip wire, and what does he do? Not only did he trip it, but he actually caught Scott. I was impressed- severely amused, but impressed.

"Uhm, Stiles? Stella, it's not funny!" he snapped at me.

"Hell yeah, it is!" I snorted.

"Yeah, buddy?" Stiles and Allison turned to see what was going on. Caught off guard, she tried not to smile, and Stiles threw himself into a rather abrupt coughing fit.

"Next time you find a trip wire? Don't trip it!"

A soft breeze brushed against my nose and rustled the fallen leaves at our feet, and Scott and I gasped simultaneously.

"Someone's coming!" we said in unison.

"Well, let's get you down―" Allison started, but I pulled her away.

"No, hide! I'll be fine!"

"Go!" I ushered them, and we broke away from Scott in two different directions.

Stiles and Allison hid behind a thick tree a few yards away while I bolted for the empty shell of the Hale House. Seeing as my timing had always been amazing, I slipped inside the front door just in time for the crunching of dried leaves underfoot to come closer. I ducked underneath the living room window and kept myself still in the shadows. Chris Argent, Allison's rather crafty father (or The Huntsman, as I so fondly referred to him) broke away from a cluster of trees some yards away, and I held my breath as he approached Scott. I stayed perfectly still as they began kicked off a nonchalant conversation about how "cliques" were, and needing friends. He made Scott sound so... alone.

I thought I could move around to Allison and Stiles' position, so I started to slowly back away from the window sill so as not to be detected. The only warning I had was the itching sensation my scars gave off, but I was too slow t act: I would have screamed, but Derek slapped a hand to my mouth, wrapped an arm around my waist, and dragged me out of the back of the house. Of course I struggled, but all I could do was kick out at empty air because his grip was too damn strong. The air evaporated from my lungs as the cold ground was suddenly at my back, and Derek slapped his hand over my mouth again, blanketed my body with his. I wanted to kick myself as the blood rushed to my face, and I was suddenly hot underneath the layers of clothing I was wearing. He was heavy, but I refuse to admit that it was a nice kind of weight he pressed into me. He raised a fine, black brow and his blue eyes flashed in the ray of pale moonlight that struck his face.

I stared at him, my mixed eyes of light brown and hazel wide open as he leaned in on me and took the biggest whiff that I had ever seen someone take of another person. It was seriously weird, but oddly sexy at the same time, which annoyed me. The stray hairs on the back of my neck and along my concealed arms stood on end in a second; that damn warmth I got whenever I was conscious of Derek Hale's presence started at separate points of my body and surged through me to assemble low in the center of my womb. I was barely able to keep my eyes from crossing as he gave me a wolfish grin, and I almost couldn't fight off a soft moan.

"I can smell it on you," he whispered, leaning closer and whispering into my ear. "You're aroused, and I'm wondering why. I didn't know this kind of thing turned you on so much, Stella"

"Shut up and get the hell off of me," I whispered harshly, attempting to sound menacing as my blush spread.

Derek grinned, "No need to whisper; they're gone, or didn't you notice?"

I frowned, and noticed Chris Argent's scent fading in the air. Nevertheless, before I could agree, he pressed his chest to mine, fitting firmly against me. I could not help but compare how well my body molded to his. The wicked smile he gave me made me realize he knew what I was thinking and that made me feel like an idiot. But the pressure on my stomach made my scars uncomfortable to bear as the tender and inflamed skin running across my stomach began to burn. I swear I could feel the recent application of stitches coming undone, which only it worse.

"Get off of me, Derek," I growled, shoving feebly against his chest as my vision slighted blurred at the edges.

When he didn't move I tried to squirm out from underneath him, but it was like he let all of his weight drop on top of me, and I thought I felt bile rise in my throat. Completely forgetting about the Hunters, I shouted angrily and scored Derek's cheek with my open palm despite my better judgement. Seeing as he had me pinned underneath him, it was the easiest- nor the smartest -thing to do. Derek's eyes connected with mine as he turned back to me, and I could literally see bright red mist over the ice blue and turn them feral as he bared a mouthful of pointed teeth at me. Immediately regretting all of the stupid things I'd done in my life, I whimpered and shrank as far as I could into the cold hard ground.

"Get the hell off of her, Derek. Now."

A familiar growl made me gasp, and I couldn't have been more relieved when Scott's shadow fell over us. He didn't wait a moment longer, but grabbed Derek and he let himself be pulled him away. I suck in air and coughed as Stiles and Allison, catching Scott's demand, had hurtled through the back door behind him.

"What the hell is going on? Derek, do you seriously have to be such a man-whore all of the time? Now is not the time to screw around with my sister's feelings! Leave her alone before I dropkick you in the face!"

At the moment I couldn't tell who mortified me more: Derek's partially transformed Wolf Face or the lack of control Stiles had on his mouth.