Some people wondered why I hadn't done anything with Derek and the Wolf Pack so I quickly did this for those who wanted it. Sorry for any errors or if it seems rushed at all. Thank you all for the positive response!

For Erica it came when people treated her like a leper.

Ten year-olds are the cruelest type of person. Because they eventually turn eleven, then twelve, etcetera etcetera. It's a cycle that never ends and each year Erica thinks that maybe, just maybe, her peers will age mentally as well as physically. She's always met with disappointment. She's come to realize that there are three types of people in the world: Those who think she's a freak, those who think she's something to pity, and those who think she uses her seizures to get attention. Apparently kids in middle school are unable to grasp the concept that epilepsy isn't something that can be controlled.

She's sitting in an empty hospital hallway after a routine checkup, waiting for her parents to emerge from their private meeting with her doctor. She has a feeling that whatever words are being exchanged between the adults of her life won't be good for her. The seizures have been getting worse, and she can already tell that her medicine cabinet is about to grow even more.

She's inspecting the growing hole in her hand-me-down jeans when he comes ambling down the hall, carrying the ugliest looking flower she's ever seen. It's half dead and the few petals that are in tact are a horrible yellow-green. He's about five feet away when he finally notices her sitting down. She half expects him to turn around and take another route to reach wherever it is he's going. She's always liked him more than the other kids, and she doesn't want him to feel uncomfortable, so he looks down at her hands and gives him the perfect opportunity to run away.

She feels him before she hears him, almost like when she can taste the blood before she feels the tremors wrack her body. He plops himself into the chair immediately next to hers and begins talking in the controlled voice that tends to be overshadowed by his sidekick's enthusiastic chattering. He's talking to her as if it's the most natural thing in the world and Erica is overcome with appreciation for the boy. Because, unlike the fleeting conversations she has with other people, she doesn't feel like she's being pitied. He's completely genuine and Erica realizes that Scott McCall fits into none of the categories she's created. He's one of a kind. He doesn't think she's a freak, is competent enough to understand that her seizures are uncontrollable, and doesn't look at her as if she will break into a million pieces.

He's twiddling with the flower, flailing it around as he chats about his mother, who apparently works at the hospital, and not caring that Erica is now staring at him mutely. He brings the flower to his nose, inhaling, and is suddenly overcome with a wracking cough. He doesn't stop and his face is rapidly changing color. He fumbles in his pocket for something, bringing out an inhaler that he immediately drops on the floor. The medicine pops out of the contraption and Scott can't get himself to stop coughing long enough to fix it. Erica's quick, she always has been, and she grabs both pieces of the inhaler, puts it back together, and thrusts it in Scott's direction.

He grabs it eagerly, takes the required puffs, and slowly exhales. There are unshed tears in his eyes and she can't tell if it's from the lack of oxygen or the panic that the asthma attack caused him. His breathing becomes regular and when he meets Erica's eyes he looks equal parts grateful and embarrassed. "Sorry. That was pretty lame. Crying over asthma when you have real problems." Coming from anyone else she may have been insulted by, "real problems," but from McCall it seems perfectly acceptable. "It's okay." She tries to give him a comforting smile, and secretly loves the fact that for once she's the comforter and not the comforted. He smiles in return, looks at the clock, and jumps up. "Crap. I'm late." He turns to her, smile still in place, and says, "I've gotta run Erica but it was nice talking to you!" He sprints away before she can respond and she suddenly feels like crying because, sitting in this empty white hallway, she's never felt so lonely.

She hears footsteps running towards her and she looks up to see Scott, slightly out of breath, standing in front of her. She extends his hand to her and when she makes no movement, he takes her hand in his own and places the flower in it. "I was gonna give this to my friend's mom but I give them to her every week so today I want to give it to you. You kind of saved my life after all." He lets go of her hand, waves goodbye, and heads down the hallway again. She marvels at the fact that her hand is still warm when she looks down at the yellow flower. It's suddenly the most beautiful thing she's ever seen.

It's the little things.

For Boyd it comes when, for the first time, he doesn't feel invisible.

It's freshman year and, once again, he's sitting alone in the cafeteria. He's always considered himself to be an observer, taking note of every person and every interaction that occurs around him. The lacrosse team huddles in the center of the room, warding off any people who are deemed too uncool to sit near them, let alone with them. Lydia Martin and her clique are sitting immediately to the left of their jock boyfriends, critiquing the outfits of the girls deemed to unstylish to sit with them. Boyd is probably the only one who notices the way Lydia's eyes occasionally flit to the math geek table. Most of the other groupings are less exclusive. Kids meander from table to table, discussing homework and the upcoming house party. The only table people seem to steer clear of is his own. He's used to it.

He's spent most of his life alone, his parents working double shifts, no friends to speak of, or to for that matter. At 8th grade stepping up, when all the kids vote for the dumb superlative, "Least Talkative" went to Andrew Webber. Two people were sitting at Andrew's table. Apparently Boyd is so good at flying under the radar that even the least talkative boy in school doesn't know who he is. Boyd wouldn't exactly say he's unhappy, but he also wouldn't say he's happy either. More than anything he's content. Impartial to the lack of friends and the constant solitude.

He's reading the new Spiderman comic when he sees someone do a double take in his peripheral vision. Boyd assumes someone over his shoulder just did something weird or awesome because no one would notice him, let alone notice him twice. He almost, almost, jumps when someone sits in the chair across from him. He's been the loner for so long he's a little thrown by the sudden interaction. He feels a bizarre need to maintain his aloof façade and gives the boy a look that should have been enough to send him away.

He recognizes the boy immediately because he's always felt a sort of kinship towards him. He only hangs out with one other boy and, while it's still more friends than Boyd has, it's nice that only Jackson seems to think that quantity is better than quality. Mop-head, as Boyd calls the boy in his head, waves someone over and Boyd isn't too surprised when Chatterbox sits down. He must still look somewhat pissed because Chatterbox looks wary and slightly fearful. Mop-head on the other hand, remains completely at ease as he reaches into his backpack and pulls out the second edition of Boyd's comic. Boyd is a little jealous to see that Chatty brings out the third edition of the series as well.

He's not really sure what to do so he focuses his eyes back on his comic and takes a bite out of his apple. As he turns the page he can see that Mop and Chatty's positions resemble his own, and they are completely immersed in their own stories. He finishes his own reading at the same time Mop finishes edition 2 and Chatty finishes edition 3. Mop pushes his comic towards Boyd as Chatty simultaneously pushes his towards Mop. Chatty says something about going to get curly fries and Mop merely nods his head in acquiesce, already a page into the his read. Boyd tentatively extends his hand and picks up edition 2 and flips the page open, half expecting Mop to snatch it from his grasp. Mop merely turns his own page.

Apparently Mop is kind of a slow reader because Boyd finishes his comic before the boy across from him. He doesn't really know what he should do so he resumes scanning the cafeteria. "Here man. Sorry. Stiles hates waiting for me to finish." Mop is holding out the unfinished comic towards Boyd and, sensing Boyd's unease, he laughs. "Seriously man, take it. You'll finish it before I would anyway." Boyd wants to argue but the kid looks so earnest. He takes the comic from Mop's hand just as Chatty returns with a tray full of food and drinks. Chatty places a Pepsi in front of Boyd and then proceeds to devour and obscene amount of food. Mop and Chatty begin discussing the character arcs in the comic and Boyd listens in, nodding and smiling in agreement.

Scott and Stiles talk for the rest of the lunch period and while Boyd doesn't say a word, for the first time he feels included. They don't sit with him much after but they always give him a friendly wave when they see him, and whenever new comics come out, he always finds editions 2 and 3 taped to his locker after lunch.

It's the little things.

For Isaac it comes when he's stuck walking home in the rain in the 8th grade.

His dad was still upset about the B- he'd gotten on his last exam and Isaac didn't want to ask him for a ride when he already knew the answer would be no. The rain is picking up but Isaac continues with his slow pace. His house isn't too far from school, only about a mile, but Isaac doesn't feel like getting home any sooner that what was completely necessary. If he has to walk in the rain to get a few moments of peace, he'll do it gladly.

He's seeing how long he can hold his breath when he notices a dirty old car pull up beside him. His mind briefly flashes to the Stranger Danger videos the school made them suffer through and he deliberately keeps his eyes focused straight ahead of him. The driver's window roles down and he hears a woman's voice calling out to him. Even if he weren't pointedly ignoring her, the harsh beat of the rain would have made it difficult to hear her. He doesn't even blink until he hears another voice calling his name. He stops walking and realizes that the car is no longer next to him. He turns around to see Scott McCall standing half outside of the passenger door and beckoning towards him. It's the confusion more than anything that causes his feet to move towards the parked vehicle. "Hey man you want a ride?" He glances between Scott and the driver, a woman who must be Mrs. McCall, and nods dumbly.

It's not until he's in the car, an awkward silence filling the space, that he realizes how much quicker this ride will bring him home. "So Isaac, where am I taking you?" He meets Mrs. McCall's eyes in the rearview mirror and sputters out a response about the library. He winces at the lie and scolds himself for being such and idiot. The library is at the edge of town and it'll take him forever to get home after being dropped off there. "Dude, why are you going to the library? The library sucks!" Scott's turned around and is facing him which means, when Mrs. McCall smacks her son on the head and reprimands him for his language, Scott sees him flinch. "You okay dude?" Isaac can't very well say that the interaction between Scott and his mother reminded him of a far less friendly moment with his father, so he ignores the question and ops for another lie. "Yeah. Uh, I forgot my key so I'm locked out of the house. That's why I'm going to the library."

And that's the lie that causes Isaac to end up in the McCall living room watching TV in baggy sweats while waiting for his own clothes to finish drying. He'd sent his dad a text about staying at school for extra credit, so he's comfortable knowing that there won't be any repercussions for arriving home late. Scott's mom had gone to bed after ordering a pizza, apparently she was working the night shift later, and had made Isaac promise to wake her up when he needed a ride home.

An alarm goes off in the other room and Scott tosses the remote to Isaac as he leaves the room to go grab the clothes. He's not sure what to do so he just places the remote on the table and leaves the TV playing the cartoons he'd never been allowed to watch as a kid. Scott comes back, tosses the warm clothes at his head, and says, "Get dressed dude. I have to meet Stiles in twenty." As he's changing Isaac tries to ignore the pang in his gut when he realizes that the night is over and the only human interaction he should expect will involve his father, no doubt upset about something new.

Scott's waiting by the door when he comes back. He doesn't know what to do with the clothes and Scott seems to notice. "Oh don't worry about it. Just chuck them on the floor, I'll take care of it when I get home." Isaac nods but makes sure to gently place the folded clothes on the stairs instead. "Hey, I hope it's okay, but I don't really want to wake my mom up just to drive you home. She barely sleeps these days and I'd just feel bad about it." Isaac doesn't mind at all. Mrs. McCall has been nothing but kind to him and he wants to repay her in anyway he can, it's stopped raining so the walk won't be too bad. He brushes past Scott and begins walking down the street. "Hey man wait up!" Isaac whips around faster than he knew he could, and sees Scott jogging up to him, slowing down and matching his pace once close enough. "What are you doing?" The question leaves his mouth and he's a little embarrassed by how rude he sounds. "Dude, I told you. I'm meeting Stiles. I'll walk you home and then head over to his house."

Isaac knows that Scott's lying to him. He can't really bring himself to care though. They chat about nothing on the ten-minute walk and when Isaac reaches his front door, Scott turns around and throws a wave over his shoulder. Isaac watches him walk in the exact direction they just came from. Isaac knows that Scott's house is directly in the middle of Stiles's and his own. He knows that Stiles lives in the opposite direction of his house. He knows that Scott knows this too. But Scott's the kind of person who's willing to walk ten minutes out of his way because it's the right thing to do, and because he doesn't want Isaac to walk alone. For the first time in awhile, Isaac is smiling when he opens the front door to his home.

It's the little things.

For Derek it comes when the last person he wants to see becomes the one person he needs to see.

He's just been released from jail, he wouldn't have been in jail in the first pace if it weren't for the two snooping idiots who'd dug up Laura's body, and he's driving around town trying to blow off steam. The black Camaro was the best purchase he'd ever made because, when people aren't looking at it in admiration, they're looking at it with intimidation. Derek has never been much of a people person and he loves the fact that his black car is just as uninviting as he is.

He's driving down Mainstreet when he sees the cheap bike that Scott rides around lying innocuously against a parking meter. A wave of anger and annoyance overcomes him and he suddenly has an overwhelming need to enact some sort of revenge against the idiot that is Scott McCall. He parks his car across the street and waits for Scott to emerge from whichever store he went in. Derek bets he's in the donut shop. He's a little surprised when the kid walks out of the flower shop with a bouquet of cheap looking flowers. Derek rolls his eyes when he realizes that the pitiful daisies were probably purchased for a date with the Argent girl. He's annoyed at first but the possible embarrassment he can cause Scott in front of Allison brings a smile to his face.

Scott hops on his bike and pedals down the street. For once Derek is grateful for how unobservant Scott is because, after ten minutes driving behind him, Scott is still unaware of his tail. Scott finally veers off the road and practically falls off his bike when he comes to a stop. He doesn't bother to lock his bike, Derek thinks it's probably because even Scott is aware that no one would want to steal that piece of crap, and he pushes the gate open. So focused on following Scott, Derek hadn't noticed where he was following him to. The cemetery was quiet and Derek could only watch as Scott made his way through the rows of white tombstones. It's obvious that he doesn't come here often because he takes his time meandering through the plots, scanning each engraving, clearly looking for someone in particular.

Scott finally comes to a halt and Derek notices that he's standing in front of a fresh plot. He knows it's wrong to eavesdrop but his curiosity gets the best of him and Derek uses his werewolf senses to listen in on Scott. "I just wanted to apologize and say that I'm sorry I never got the chance to know you." The speech is succinct and Scott bends down to place the flowers at the base of the burial marker. He begins to walk back in Derek's direction before he runs back, grabbing a few individual flowers from the bouquet, and places one at each of the surrounding tombstones. He ambles towards his bike and rides off as Derek stays hidden behind the trees. At this point he's no longer concerned with torturing Scott, more interested in whoever was on the receiving end of those flowers. He makes his way through the cemetery and stops short when he sees the gravestone.

He'd avoided this for awhile, he didn't want to see them like this. But here he is. Laura to his left, his parents to his right. He feels something warm on his cheek and is astounded that he doesn't feel the need to wipe the tears away. The flowers are lying on the fresh dirt and Derek suddenly has no energy. He lets himself collapse on the ground between his family members and for a minute he just lets his eyes roam over every detail of their individual graves. He stays there for hours, switching between complete silence and length conversations he wished he'd had before. When he gets up to leave he grabs one of the flowers from the bouquet and shoves it in his pocket.

He visits his family every week from then on and every once in awhile, he sees a bouquet of cheap daisies sitting by their graves.

It's the little things.