Author's Note-

Hey guys! Miss me? I won't apologize, I won't stammer excuses. Simply, life is hitting me now, and it's hitting hard. So I will warn.

I promise that I am sticking around, I do have One-Shots that need to be written. But I will be sporadic.

Please understand and wish me luck. I'm taking a big step towards my life that is just around the corner.

Post Script: I have come to the realization that Chloe hasn't been to the graveyard yet or discovered Royce's name before the chapter where Andrew gives her the medicine in the real book. My bad, just pretend it had then. :)

Enjoy :)


Animalistic... a lonely burden when faced by something you want but can't have.

Derek

The silence was interrupted and I stopped in my trek back to the house. I cocked my head and listened, straining my ears against the pattering rhythm of the rain. Against my better judgment, I was hoping that I hadn't imagined the faint, muffled sound off in the forest. I itched for something to be out here, hence the very reason I was out here.

My unsettled instincts since our escape from Lyle house- well, since our actual stay in Lyle house or since the very night Simon's and my dad vanished- has increased nearly tenfold since Andrew recovered us from his cottage and brought us to this house. Being here and in what the adults guaranteed to be safety didn't feel safe. Not to me. I felt on edge, unable to detect immediate danger, but hyperaware of the danger nonetheless. Pack safety came first. Always had and always will. Now that my pack was threatened, I wasn't going to be able to rest as easily as would be deemed particularly healthy until that threat was eliminated. Even this temporary escape had lost my trust and it was only our second night.

Though, if I made the decision to run- no doubt that Simon and Chloe would wholeheartedly agree, seeing as though none of us were all that thrilled of Andrew and the other's decisions towards actions against the Edison group- where would we go? Hit the streets again, warily turning corners, stretching the availability and organization of our provisions, vainly researching libraries and casting Simon's tracking spell that warranted a bust in the first place, sleeping in abandoned alleys and shops, risking each other's safety with each step? Yeah, that sounded like a decent plan. And where would that get us in our quest to find and rescue Rae and Chloe's aunt; if they were both still alive?

What we had here were resources and a roof over our heads. And yet I was too damned paranoid to see that playing this out and resting up, gathering as much of our own information as possible was for the best. Simon needed it, Chloe needed it... I needed it. We were going to milk this as long as I dared, and then we would figure something out. For now, Chloe and Simon's comfort, health and safety were more important than my sanity.

So, I shook my head, casting aside my anxiety and unease. I could easily chalk up the desire for hallucinations and taking action to the oncoming Change. I knew it was close. The itching, the fever, the actual sick feeling that robbed my body- my muscles of comfort. That was only the first few stages. Soon enough my senses would go wild, enhancing to a peak, fighting and struggling to break their human limitations. Then the Change would commence.

However, while I still longed to get this Change over with- the pain was nearly unbearable and frightening to think of- I willed for it to push out as long as possible. I wasn't sure I could stand going through another partial Change. Knowing that the Edison group had tampered with my genetics was bad enough. But wondering- painfully- that what they had done could possibly prevent me from ever fully Changing was maddening.

But, honestly, how was I supposed to know? I was only raised to understand that I was different, that I could never expect to act or feel entirely human. I've accepted that. But I was never fully briefed on how to go about becoming a wolf, how to endure the Change and how it was supposed to go. Was it normal to have these partial Changes? Was it normal to start so young? What about the dreams? What about my humanity if I ever fully Changed? Where would it go? Would I be myself?

I couldn't depict between what was normal and what was not. Dad always told me what was to be expected and what was known to be average. He'd done his best to prepare me, knowing that I thrived on the facts and logic. The Change was expected to be painful. Obvious. My senses were expected to be advanced. Apparent. My body was expected to be built in a predatory manner, evolution playing its roll, ensuring that my world was survival of the fittest and programming me to be just that- fit. Typical.

But what the hell was I supposed to do or understand when 'modifications' were thrown into the mix? I didn't know the tendencies and statistics of normal werewolves; therefore, I couldn't compare myself or what I was going through. And that left me anxious, confused and terrified.

However, I was aware that I wasn't alone in this and the very idea was enough to keep me sane. Though, the reality was the greatest comfort and I knew that was more than I would ever feel if it was my dad at my side or Simon... and not Chloe.

Chloe had come to be a constant in my life, a necessity. Whether I was openly willing to admit that or not, I was painstakingly aware as to how much Chloe's presence meant to me during my Changes, or any other time for the matter. She was fairly grounded, level headed if not selfless to the point of naivety and caring beyond anyone I had ever come across in my entire life.

There was no way to even begin to describe Chloe and how... attached I was to her. It had never been like this at first, but even now I had all but forgotten what it was Chloe meant to me back then before that fact was devoured by what she meant to me now. I wasn't just obligated to protecting her anymore because she was the pawn in getting Simon to jump to action. I was indescribably concerned and wary of her wellbeing, because I knew that if she wasn't okay than I wouldn't be able to forgive myself and I wasn't okay. If something happened to Chloe I'd lose the grip I had on my sanity, something I was sure had been lost when I actually believed that I belonged in Lyle house. Chloe changed that. It took a while to realize this, but once I finally did, I knew that Chloe wasn't just someone I needed in order to protect Simon. She was someone I needed, period.

The wolf inside of me felt as if this meant that she was mine to claim- or ours for the matter. I needed her, therefore the wolf wanted her.

Unfortunately, she was already Simon's. The wolf was nice enough to point out that this was my own fault, because I've lately come to discover that I didn't like Simon's possession of Chloe. At all.

I was merely putting this animalistically. Of course Chloe wasn't a piece of territory or property. She was free to choose her own suitor and I respected that. But I also knew that Chloe would never choose me over Simon.

It was obvious that Chloe had mutual feelings for Simon and that only made sense. Simon was the more prudent choice. Charming, good- looking, bright, easy- going. He was nice. He was a gentleman. What girl wouldn't swoon over that? Obviously, none. Even Tori- I shuddered just thinking about how awkwardly that girl threw herself at Simon, for once making her seem like every other girl I had been honored to witness drooling all over my brother. Though, this was all aside from the point.

I wasn't like Simon. I'm sure I couldn't be charming even if I tried. I was smart, but more to the point of being a freak genius. I wasn't all that great- looking. Sure, the puberty was ebbing, something I was sure to be an effect of the Changes, but better skin and softer hair wouldn't even put me in the same league as Simon.

I was big, angry, brooding, ignorant, clueless, confused, scared, helpless, weak, nervous... I was a mess.

That didn't mean that I couldn't feel something for Chloe. It sure as hell meant that it would hurt to see her with Simon, but I knew that I could live with her being happy and well- cared for. As cheesy and cliché as it might be, all that was important was that Chloe was happy, and with Simon, I could see that she was and will be.

I was constantly making these resolves with myself, but, that didn't keep me from worrying about her. Even now I was wondering if she was doing alright. Was she asleep? Had the medicine Andrew had given her worked or...?

Though Chloe took being a necromancer in stride- she definitely handled it better than I had given her credit for- she still couldn't completely hide how much her powers affected her. She wasn't like Simon or Tori. She wasn't gifted. Powerful, yes, but hardly gifted. No.

Chloe was cursed.

She may not see it that way, but in reality, being a bridge between dimensions, let alone between the living and the dead was taxing. Taxing and dangerous. A combination that was toxic and could not mix well with Chloe. She was too true, too pure and too innocent to be dealt what she had been in life. She was brave. She could take care of herself. But I didn't want her to handle being a necromancer on her own.

Not to mention... Chloe was also genetically modified.

Deciding to check on her was the final push I needed to get myself back to the house. But before I could resume trudging through the slop the rain had created along the path, I heard something that rooted my feet to the ground.

This time, I wanted it to be my imagination.

"Derek!" Again. Same cry. Same voice. That same sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach if not my heart plummeting from my chest. My lungs constricted, my muscles tensed, my mind went blank, listening.

"Derek!" Chloe shrieked and I whirled, throwing myself in the direction of her voice as instinct overwhelmed all possible thought and logic.

I couldn't smell her out and, with the rain coming even harder now than before, her voice was instantly lost. Unable to use my senses to my advantage was frustrating. Panic and anxiety bubbled and churned in a sickening manner in my gut. My heart raced, my mind whirred. Frantically I searched, straining and listening, catching a muffled cry here and a sob there. The process was slow. I would remain still until I was sure I had a direction, advance towards the noise, then stop and listen again.

Somewhere deep down, where reason and question now suffocated, I wondered what the hell she was doing out here. Why hadn't I heard her? She seemed to be a ways off but still. I was so engrossed in searching for something that I should have noticed her.

"Derek!" Chloe wailed, tone desperate and dripping with fear. And with each cry, the anger ebbed. There would be time to give her shit later, because there wouldn't be anyone to loom over if she wasn't safe. I pushed aside the hostility, the rage, the idea that Chloe might be hurting and focused more on actually finding her. That seemed to ease the frustration and my own fear for her while I let the wolf side of me take care of the task at hand. Being half animal, I couldn't focus when wired around human limitations such as emotions instead of gut feeling. I had to let it go. I had to let the wolf take charge.

And when I did, following Chloe's voice was easier. It was the way I found her that brought back all those simmering emotions, because simply putting them on the back burner didn't entirely rid me of them. Being torn in half was severely aggravating and exhausting, which made me wonder if that was normal for a werewolf because, again, I had no clue.

I saw a break in the trees where I could hear her muffled sobs. She really wasn't any louder than the rain, but the more I focused on her voice the louder she became.

"P-P-Please, l-l-leave m-me alone- g-get away, p-please."

She said my name again, calling for me, but fainter than before. It was so quiet, so desperate and yet the pleading in her tone suggested that she was slowly losing the hope of getting my attention. I followed the sound of her, attempting in vain to swallow the swelling of my throat, the drying of my mouth. With each passing second a wave of panic washed over me and I prayed that, whatever was happening, whatever was going on, that I got to her in time.

I finally entered the break, bounding into an opening that was nothing compared to the clearing Chloe and I had found for my last Change at the truck stop. I froze in my tracks, barely free of the forest when the aura of the space hit me, settling against my body like a blanketed weight.

Death.

I couldn't smell it and I couldn't taste the bile taste of decomposition, but I could feel it. My skin crawled and I knew the rain had nothing to do with the drop in temperature. I could have sworn that stepping back into the dense woods would feel like hiking through a tropical forest compared to this.

Whatever was here, it was dead- death itself it seemed like- and it was big.

I flashed my gaze around, looking for Chloe but also scanning for something that didn't fit. I couldn't hear, see or smell whatever it was, but that didn't mean that it wasn't here.

My eyes finally landed on Chloe, huddled against a tree nearly twenty feet away. Her small body was curled in a ball, knees pulled up against her chest, palms clasped firmly against her ears, fingers roughly tangled into her fake, dripping black hair, nails digging relentlessly into her temples. Even from where I stood I could see that she was shaking, trembling like a leaf. Her eyes were closed, her face was tight as if she was in pain and horror masked her features. If she was crying I couldn't tell by betraying tears. She was soaked to the bone, her skin pale and her exposed legs and neck were covered in goosebumps.

She whimpered, mumbling and sobbing, most pleas coming out incoherent. With each ragged, uneven and quick breath, a puff of condensation escaped her mouth, creating a fog before it vanished. Her lips were turning an unhealthy shade of purple.

She winced, gasped a helpless, "N-No, s-stay away," and cried even harder, sobs racking her tiny frame. Fog billowed with each word, with each struggled breath.

I couldn't see my own breath. The canopy of the trees protected me from the bite of the rain and should have done the same for Chloe. But I knew it wasn't the weather that caused her to shake, or to pale so unnaturally. And the storm didn't call for this frigid air.

For a moment, I couldn't move. All I could do was stare, willing my eyes to see the threat so that I could feel less... helpless. What was I supposed to do? What could I do? Something was hurting Chloe and there was no way for me to eliminate it. I was useless. Rendered useless by my inability to help her, to save and protect her. And she was suffering.

Seeing her suffer, this, this right here knocked some sense into me, making me realize just how good I really have it. All my bitching and internal self loathing, thinking and believing that I would never deserve to be truly understood and happy because of the fact that I was dangerous, that I was a monster. Sure, my dad and Simon were enough. My gratitude towards them was incorruptible. But I could never deny the fact that I felt alone, isolated even with them at my side, watching my back, being my family. I never really noticed how feeling this way pushed against the good life that I have, the good that I was capable of receiving. Not until now. Not until I saw just how bad things were for someone else- for Chloe.

She lost her mother when she was six. Her father was never around, but notably worried enough when Chloe disappeared to put a half a million on her head. Her aunt had betrayed her in more ways than one, jumping from side to side, switching so unexpectedly that it would cause an emotional earthquake to anyone. And now Chloe was nearly convinced that her aunt was dead, the only real family she had left, good or bad. She was stuck with Tori, who could not be trusted and was hurricane of emotions all on her own. She was forced to follow the orders of a man she did not know, waiting while she worried and feared for the life of a confused friend she had left behind at the lab. I couldn't say I made her life any easier by jumping on her every mishap, chewing her out for getting herself into trouble when she was smarter than that- even now I wanted to tower over her and demand to know what the hell she was thinking and what she had gotten herself into.

On top of everything, Chloe was barely a two- week experienced necromancer, topping the cake by the fact that her genes were also tampered with.

For two weeks I watched her put up a brave front. For Simon, maybe. For the group, definitely. For me, oh absolutely- partially out of her own stubborn pride, but mostly to make less trouble for me than she already believed I had. But I think that it was mostly for herself. I knew she didn't want to lose herself and I knew that she didn't want to be scared. Because of this I had always seen her as something solid. Someone who could handle a little more than the others.

That didn't make her better of course. If anything, her acceptance was part of her selflessness.

I had seen Chloe spooked. I had seen Chloe startled. Confused, scared, uncertain.

But I had never seen her broken.

"D-Derek, please..." she hiccuped, her words trailing into more strangled, frighten cries. But her voice ripped me from my thoughts, forcing me back into the reality.

Something just seemed to click then. I didn't know what to do, but I knew I had to do something. She was calling, asking for me. She needed me. Me.

I raced forward, legs moving on their own accord, brain spinning on ways to calm her down, knowing too well that Chloe's necromancy was out of control if she couldn't concentrate. I had seen it in the crawlspace and with the homeless corpse and, connecting two and two together; I could see that Chloe's crumbled focus was caused by her fear of what was harassing her. A spirit, obviously, but something too big for her to handle, where normally, if it were a lone, weak ghost, she could.

I crouched before her, fingers instinctively wrapping around her wrists, attempting to softly pry her hands from her head.

"Chloe," I whispered tentatively, hesitantly, not wanting to startle her anymore than she already was. However, this seemed to have been a mistake.

"No!" Chloe screamed, eyes squeezing tighter. She ripped her hand from my grasp and pulled back against the tree, as if she could melt right through the bark.

"Chloe," I said, sharper this time, reaching once again. She kicked, foot making contact against my ribs. I bit back a growl, advancing fingers clasping against her forearm, attempting to keep her from flailing and thrashing. She screamed and wrenched herself back.

"Stop! S-Stay a-away!"

"Chloe," I snarled, lunging forward and taking a firm hold of both her arms and giving her a quick, rough shake.

"No. n-no. R-Release. L-Leave-" Chloe sputtered, her words mashing together, her eyes still shut.

Release? Leave?

She thought she had raised something, that I was the corpse.

"It's me. Chloe, it's me," I chanted quietly. She shook her head and whimpered, writhing against my hold. I shook her again.

"Chloe, look at me," I growled.

Her eyes shot open wide and unfocussed, blue and horrified. She stopped fighting, taking a split second to take me in, to realize it was me in front of her and not a raised corpse.

"Derek," she rasped out, her voice making me wince. I tried to compose myself, not let the concern and panic show on my face. I don't think I was doing a very good job because her eyes flicked away from me, beyond me, and they yawned wider.

"O-Oh my G-God," she breathed, her breath spilling out into the air, wafting across my face like ice. Absolute terror washed off of her in waves. If it were possible, her shudders racked through her even harder.

"No, Chloe. Look at me," I said, cursing myself for letting my voice crack, but feigning to keep calm. She continued to stare through me as if she hadn't heard. Her breathing was close to a speed of hyperventilation.

"Look at me," I growled again, understanding how the familiarity of it to her caught her attention and pulled her back to me. Her giant blue orbs snapped back to mine, begging, pleading.

"You need to calm down," I said lowly, not trusting my own voice anymore. "Concentrate so you can push it back."

"N-No-"

"Chloe," I drew out her name, voice still low.

"I-I c-can't. T-There's too many-" she cut of, wincing. She bowed her head and whimpered.

I stared at her, lost. Too many? What did she mean by-

"P-Please," Chloe sobbed. "M-Make them g-go away. Make t-them stop."

"You have to banish them, Chloe. They won't leave until you do. Concentrate."

"I t-tried-"

"You have to try harder," I said, lightly tightening my grip on her arms. "Just look at me and relax." I pulled out all the reassuring, meaningless nothings she had ever whispered to me while I went through my Changes and murmured them back, ushering her to calm down, letting her know that I was there and that she was going to be okay, that she could do this.

Slowly, her breathing became less ragged, less forced. I could hear her racing heart, focused intently on how it began to quiet and slow. I rubbed her arms, whispering, comforting in a way that felt so natural I was surprised by my own actions because they were so foreign. Chloe kept my gaze, her shaking reducing to minor shudders, the puffs of her breath getting smaller and smaller.

Every few seconds she would crack and her eyes would see past me, widening, heart beat picking up, condensation growing denser.

"It's okay."

"Don't pay any attention to them, Chloe."

"They can't hurt you."

"I'm right here."

Finally, she closed her eyes and took one deep shuddering breath. Her rigid posture slumped as she continued to breathe evenly. I moved closer, taking note that her shivering wasn't because of the ghosts anymore. Where I was barely affected by the rain, Chloe was soaked, her cloths and hair clinging to her sickly pale skin.

I could tell she was releasing the spirits as I continued to move my hands up and down her arms, still murmuring encouragements and telling her to keep going. I could see it in the slight twitch in her brow as she concentrated, the crease over the bridge of her nose and the hard line of her lips. And the aura receded; death itself slipping away, a more reasonable temperature taking its place.

After a moment, Chloe relaxed, body falling completely slack as she panted, more now from excursion than fear. She continued to shudder and I knew that I needed to get her out of this rain. The ghosts were gone- how ever many there were- and Chloe was safe. Now I needed to get her back into the house before she made herself sick.

"Chloe," I said quietly, attempting to grab her attention. She opened her eyes, but something about her gaze seemed off. Her blue orbs were fogged and distant, and they remained half- lidded. I ducked my head to her level, trying to catch her eye, but she wasn't looking at me. She wasn't looking at anything. Just staring, as if she were nodding off to sleep.

"Chloe?"

Panic zinged through me when she didn't answer. Was she going into shock? How much did the banishing take out of her? What the hell was going on? Question after question, but that wasn't getting me anywhere. I wasn't going to be able to find the answers out here, where Chloe was at the risk of hurting herself even more.

I pulled Chloe into me, hooking the grip of one hand beneath her knees and settling the other hand firmly against her back. She limply leaned against me as I lifted her off the icy ground, her gaze still far away, as if she weren't even here anymore. I suppressed a wince.

To me, Chloe was extremely light. Fragile even. Barely a hundred pounds felt like lifting a hardcover book. A werewolf thing. If it had been Simon carrying her, I'm sure he would have struggled.

It took me until now to realize just how deep Chloe had gotten herself lost into the woods. Which, again, brought a wave of disdain over me, because for some damn reason, I just couldn't get over how angry I was with her for getting herself into this mess in the first place. It still didn't matter. As much as I wanted to lay into her, give her shit for not being cautious and aimlessly walking into what obviously seemed to be a trap built specifically for a necromancer, I didn't know the whole story. I had no right to be furious with her decision- one I believed to be stupid even if she could justify it- when I had no idea what was really decided. However, that fact never stopped me before, from bearing down on her that is. I always found myself hounding her, because I was just so angry when I found her in danger, and I didn't even give her a chance to plead her case. Even with the graveyard… she could have said no, and she had admitted that, but that didn't stop me from considering that she had been careless. I knew she hadn't. I believe she knew better than that. And I wasn't even really angry with her. I was just angry with the fact that the even had put her under an even bigger spotlight than before. Which is saying something considering there is a half a million dollars on her head.

I found the trail back to the house easily and was trudging through the backyard in a matter of minutes. The rain was heavier in the open, so I tucked Chloe into my chest and loped towards the backdoor. Sure enough, Chloe had left it unlocked just as I had and I slipped through quietly. I didn't want to wake anyone. Not yet.

If I needed Andrew I would get him. For now, I needed to tend to Chloe on my own. A sudden bustle and intrusion of space that the others were sure to give her would possible startle her all over again, though I couldn't say for certain, but I wasn't going to risk it.

I silently crept up the stairs and took Chloe to the parlor, the room farthest away from the bedrooms. I promptly set her on the couch, sitting her on the end and went to check the radiator. The damn thing was barely working and I growled. I hurried into the hall and went to the linen closet. I riffled through it briefly and came out with a towel and a few blankets.

Chloe was exactly where I left her, though I had hardly left her for half a minute. But she remained still nonetheless and that worried me. She was staring at the floor, same look, same distant aura. She looked even paler in the light than she did in the dark of the forest, her skin appearing to be clammy with a mixture of moisture from the rain and sweat. Her eyes were rimmed in red and almost bloodshot. Her lips were still that dangerous shade of purple.

I debated with the blankets. They really weren't going to be enough. Not with Chloe still clad in her sopping wet clothes. I tossed the blankets onto the armchair and hurried from the room, not wanting to leave Chloe for longer than I had to.

I decided to just get something from my own room. Chloe shared with Tori and it would go over just fantastically if she woke and found me rifling through what little clothes Chloe had. Then I would have to explain myself and she would only get in the way. Besides, Simon was a heavy sleeper. It would just be easier to slip past him and more efficient to shuffle through my own, familiar clothes.

I came up with a dark sweatshirt, which was relatively cleaner than everything else I had. It had originally been Chloe's after I had tossed my- werewolf- blood stained jacket, but was still large enough to fit me snugly. And it was warm.

It wasn't till I was back in the parlor, approaching Chloe with the garment when I realized just what I was about to do.

She had to get out of her clothes. She really did or she wouldn't get better. They were wet and useless, but that was my only justification for having to- I swallowed, hard.

I would be lying if I hadn't noticed before how little Chloe was actually wearing. She sat with her legs pushing together, the creamy skin of her thighs producing from extremely short, black shorts, exposed to the world. Her dripping jacket was sliding off her shoulder, her arms falling free of the clinging fabric only to reveal a dark tank top underneath. I didn't think of Chloe this way, or at least I tried not to. Sure, the wolf part of me liked his fantasies and he definitely had his moments of making me really- really- uncomfortable around her. But I wasn't constantly ogling Chloe for her body. She wasn't conservative but she wasn't revealing either, except for now of course, but I admired Chloe more for her selfless bravery than how the only jeans she now possessed hugged her just ri-

I grumbled and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath and shoving back the thoughts created by the wolf's imagination. Calming myself seemed to be a lost cause, because every time I opened my eyes to assess the situation of Chloe still in her wet clothes, the wolf snarled something lowly, almost in a hiss.

Mine.

I growled in frustration, silencing the wolf as best as I could by settling into my reoccurring anger with Chloe. I grabbed for her jacket first, seeing as though it was already sliding off of her, and pulled her from the confines. I tossed it towards the door, deciding to take care of her wet clothes later. I fingered the hem of her shirt next, but froze.

Even for Chloe's health, I just didn't feel right doing this. For all I knew, Chloe was going to shock, and here I was, about to undress her and most likely see everything- as hard as I would try not to see anything- and I felt as if I was taking advantage of her. It would have helped exponentially if I knew she was wearing something underneath, but by the way her tank top fit her, I knew that she wasn't.

"Oh, for the love of-"

I hastily rolled up the sweatshirt and pushed it over Chloe's head. I slipped her arm from the sleeve of her shirt and gently pulled it through the sleeve of my sweatshirt, repeating the process with her other arm. I quickly yanked the mass of fabric over her chest and stomach, then tugged at the hem of her shirt again, slipping it from beneath its replacement and down her legs before chucking it across the room along with her jacket. I did this all without exposing anymore skin than I had already seen.

I gave her shorts one last look and bit back my disdain. I wasn't going to remove those and it would be her own damn fault if she caught a cold because of it. I just flat out refused to do it.

I stood and fled the room, picking up her discarded clothes and using the excuse to find her some food and sugar to get as far away from her as possible as fast as possible.

With a frustrated huff and the internal will to tame the flame in my cheeks I realized that Chloe was going to be the death of me one day. As annoying as I thought it was at the moment, deep down I knew I would always want it to be that way.

What a way to die.

To be continued...

Damn, This took two whole weeks to write. I feel so bad for making you guys wait so long that I am whipping out a quick, short and sweet Chlerek One-Shot. It's called Work it Out and I'm posting it after this!

Review please, you know how I love them. And answer this question. Should the last piece for this shot be in Chloe or Derek's POV?

Make me happy, especially during my pre-grad stressed times. :)

Loves!