Title: You Are The Moon (That Breaks The Night For Which I Have to Howl)
Category: Smallville/Teen Wolf
Genre: Romance/Drama/Humor
Ship: Chloe Sullivan/Derek Hale
Chapter Rating: Teen/PG-13
Overall Rating: Explicit/NC-17
Timeline: Follows the entire first season, often rewriting full scenes from each episode (possibly whole episodes) to better understand the plot and for those who haven't seen the show.
Spoiler(s): Wolf Moon (1x01)
Word Count: 9,312
Summary: When Chloe Sullivan's childhood best friend returns to Beacon Hills, she's thrown into a mystery she can't help but unravel, involving murder, werewolves, and a crisis of conscience on whether to keep her and her brother Stiles safe from a distance or help out a man she's falling in love with, despite how dark the rabbit hole gets.
You Are The Moon (That Breaks The Night For Which I Have to Howl)
-Novel-
II.
Derek could feel her trembling. It surprised him at first; in all the years he'd known Chloe, scared wasn't something he'd use to describe her. And, on the few occasions fear had gotten the better of her, she usually covered it up with her patented snark. But she wasn't doing that with him, instead she was dropping any pretenses and for the first time in a long time, he relaxed and let down his guard.
He carried Chloe inside her apartment, closing the door behind him with the heel of his boot. She smelled like soap and the bitter salt of tears. He'd been tracking her since earlier that night, when he'd seen her walking down the street as he drove by in his car. He hadn't heard from his sister in a week, which wasn't like Laura. Not since their parents died; they might not see each other regularly, but they called daily. Just to check in, make sure the other was alive. Maybe it was dysfunctional, but sometimes Derek couldn't remember a time when his life wasfunctional.
Chloe changed that.
Chloe reminded him of days as a kid, when running through the forest was all he did some afternoons. With no fear of what hid behind trees or under brush, just a constant movement of feet, of chasing the pounding of his heart and the rush of his blood. Even though she'd never known his secret, he'd found acceptance in her, the only person outside of his family that he'd ever really trusted.
Until Kate.
The mere thought of her made his face curl with derision and his arms tighten around the woman currently bear-hugging him in a way that might've made a different man gasp for breath.
Six years was a long time and Chloe had grown out of the soft, round-face stage she'd still been in at seventeen. She wasn't any taller though and his mouth twitched up on one side. She smelled the same too, under the body wash and the tears; there was a scent that was all Chloe and it soothed something inside him; something cracked and broken.
She let herself down slowly, unlocking her arms and wiping quickly at her face, sniffling and rubbing under her nose. "Sorry," she laughed, shaking her head. "Nostalgia rush."
He nodded, smiling faintly. "It's been awhile."
Her brows hiked, eyes widening. "Understatement," she said, before taking a step back. She looked him over from head to toe and chuckled. "Still handsome as ever… And is it just me, or did you get taller?"
He ducked his eyes and pursed his lips to keep from grinning. "Pretty sure I was six feet at seventeen…" he mused.
"Huh. Maybe it's just the muscles then." She eyed his arms. "I know we're just reconnecting, but don't make me throw a gym intervention." Her nose wrinkled. "So much planning."
He laughed, rolling his eyes.
Smiling faintly, she pivoted and started for the kitchen. "Thirsty? Hungry? I've got leftover Chinese…"
He crossed his arms loosely over his chest. "Sure. Anything's fine."
She pointed over her shoulder. "Take a seat. We, uh… should talk."
He toed his boots off and made for the living room, pausing as he saw a black and grey cat curled up on an armchair, ears back, eyeing him warily, and fur on end.
"Don't mind Alibi; he's just a grump."
Derek watched the cat a moment before taking a seat on the couch, his head tipped.
It stood up and hissed at him before jumping off the chair and scurrying underneath it, peering out from the cover to watch him.
His lips twitched. "Cats don't like me," he said.
She came back with a box of fried rice, a fork, and a cold bottle of beer for him. "Actually, I remember that…" She snorted as she took a seat on the couch opposite to him. "You remember when we broke into Mrs. Winters' house and she had like seven cats?" She raised an eyebrow. Every single one of them started hissing and clawing at you… Never seen anything like it."
"More of a dog person," he muttered, before digging into the box and filling his fork. "How long've you been back in Beacon Hills?" he wondered.
She shrugged. "Three years…?" She paused, drawing her head back in surprise. "Wow, yeah, it's been that long…"
He frowned. "What brought you back? You were in Metropolis last I checked…"
"Last you checked?" Her eyebrow ticked up and she smirked at him knowingly. "You've been checking up on me, Hale?"
He rolled his eyes. "Wasn't hard. You kept your online Wall of Weird going for a while and a blog about when you were in college… It wasn't like you were hiding your tracks, Chloe."
"True," she admitted, shrugging. With a sigh, she leaned back in the couch. "Mom got sick a few years ago…" She fiddled with the edge of her tank top. "John called, he said… he didn't think she had much time, so…" She cleared her throat. "I packed up and I came home to see her, help out any way I could." She shrugged. "Mom died and… it made sense to stick around. I—" She smiled, rolling her eyes. "I told John it was to help him out with Stiles, but honestly, I needed their help… I felt bad, about leaving, about not—not spending enough time here, with her, and I just… I needed my family, so I stayed and I set up shop. I got a job at the Tribune, which I'm editor of now, and… It's better, I guess. I'm happier, anyway."
He nodded, telling her sincerely, "I'm sorry about your mom… Moira was… kind of amazing…" His brows arched. "She asked me and Laura to stay with her, to move in after the fire…"
Chloe turned to look at him, her eyes wide. "I didn't know."
He swallowed tightly. "I was… messed up after everything. I… Me and Laura, we just left, as soon as we could… It was better." He stared at her. "Trust me. It was better that we didn't stay with her."
Derek's eyes darted away as he remembered how Moira Stilinski had approached them the same day he'd found out, sitting in the Sheriff's office in a daze. She'd pulled him into a hug even when so much of him was filled with anger that the tension radiating through made him stiff and unmoveable. "You practically grew up under my feet, Derek, you know you and Laura are more than welcome in our house… We can have Chloe's room moved around, you can share for the first while… Or— Oh, I can put you with Stiles and Laura can have her own room, whatever fits…"
And some part of him wanted to; it wanted to stay where he and Chloe had mapped out their mysteries and snuck Moira's homemade cookies and climbed the trees in the backyard. But another part of him, that part that had grown up knowing the art of survival, understood that if they stayed, then Moira, Stiles, and Sheriff Stilinski would be the next people going up in flames. Kate wouldn't care that they were human; she'd light them up all the same. So he'd thanked her but told her he and Laura had distant relatives they'd be staying with and as soon as the funeral was over, they were on the road and running as far as they could get.
Until now. Six years and he was back to where it all began.
"Derek, why are you back?" she wondered.
He looked over at her. "Laura didn't call… She told me she was coming back here a couple weeks ago and she called every day that first week, but I haven't heard from her since last Monday…"
Chloe squeezed her eyes shut and he could hear as her heart skipped a few beats, slowing to a dull thud. She opened her mouth a few times to start and then stopped before finally she opened her eyes to look at him and he could read it there before the words left her mouth.
His shoulders slumped, face fell, and, as if through a tunnel, he could hear her telling him, "She went missing a week ago. I—I put up posters, I asked everyone, I put it in the paper, I—I tried to find you but…" She let out a shaky breath. "A call came into the station today… A body was found in the woods… They think it's her. There's no proof yet, but…"
"How do they not know?" he asked her, his body tensed, hands fisting in his lap. He looked sharply at her. "Why can't they ID the body, Chloe?"
She swallowed thickly. "Because they only found the bottom half."
He let out a heavy breath and closed his eyes, swallowing back the burning bile that crept up his throat.
"I'm sorry." She climbed across the couch on her knees. "Derek, I'm sorry." Her arms wrapped around him again and she pulled him closer even as he tried to lean away, tried to tell himself not to accept her pity or her comfort. But then his cheek was pressed to her shoulder and every breath smelled like her and her fingers were stroking the nape of his neck.
And he remembered Chloe when they were just ten years old and running through the woods.
"I'm starting to think you're half-cheetah or something," Chloe called after him, huffing a bit. "Normal people don't run this much."
He laughed as he circled back to her. "Who wants to be normal?" He ran backwards at her side as she slowed to a jog.
She rolled her eyes and turned to leap on top of a log, walking across it like it was a gymnastics beam, arms out to keep her balance. "Maybe you could become an Olympic runner... And I'll take a break from writing big exposes so I can write about you and all the awards you win…" She shrugged. "Or your autobiography."
"They'd give me awards just for running?" His brow furrowed. "Why?"
"I don't know, because other people like running just as much as you do, only they're not as fast…"
"Huh." He ran across the log on the other side and used it to jump off the side of a tree, flipping in the air and landing on his feet. He grinned up at her proudly.
Chloe scoffed. "Show off."
"Jealous."
"Please." She raised her chin. "My feet are happy on the ground, thanks very much."
"I could teach you," he offered, shrugging.
"Yeah," she snorted, "and when I break my neck,you can tell my mom!"
He screwed up his mouth. "Never mind."
She laughed, but before she could follow the subject of her mom, she heard whining. Her head turned abruptly. "Did you hear that?"
Derek was staring at a bush in the distance. "It's over there." He pointed, but made no move in that direction.
Chloe hopped down and started toward it.
"Hey! You don't know what it is!" He hurried after her.
"Whatever it is, it sounds hurt," she replied, jogging ahead.
"Chloe," he sighed, keeping up at her side. "It could be dangerous… Some animals attack when they're hurt. Or worse, if it's a cub, then theirparents will attack you." He stared at her, eyes wide for emphasis.
"Well if it has parents, where are they?" She motioned around and while he looked, she ran forward and pulled the gnarled branches of a bush aside to peer over. Her brow furrowed. "It's a fox…"
Derek leaned over her shoulder to see and agreed, "Kit fox."
"I think its leg is broken."
Frowning, he sniffed the air around them and sighed. "It's dying."
She looked back at him. "We need to bring it back to town."
"Chloe! It'sdying," he told her, shaking his head. He couldn't tell her that he smelled death on the animal, but he thought the pitiful noises it was making and the mangled leg were proof enough. "It'd be nicer to kill it now so it doesn't have to suffer."
"Don't be stupid," she told him, kneeling and reaching for the wheezing, whining, grey fox. She pet its ear and was careful as it moved, retracting her hands in case it tried to snap at her. "We'll bring it to the vet. If he thinks so, he'll put it down…" She looked back up at him earnestly. "If you were dying in the woods, wouldn't you want someone to care?"
He pursed his lips. "Fine, but I'm carrying it," he told her seriously.
She rolled her eyes. "Go ahead, hero." She took a step back and waited, tapping her foot impatiently.
Derek sighed and bent down to gather up the tiny fox; it couldn't have weighed more than three pounds, which was underweight, even given its small nature. He held it carefully to his chest and stared down into its eyes; it seemed to recognize the wolf inside him because it started to wiggle out of fear. He scrubbed a finger behind its rusty-colored ear to soothe it.
Chloe lightly stroked the fox's tail. "Come on," she said, starting back.
"He's probably been out here like this for days," Derek told her. "He was bit so hard the bones probably shattered…" He stared down at the dried blood and frowned. "He might even be infected."
She looked back at him. "Way to be optimistic."
He shrugged. "Just don't get your hopes up."
"Look, you keep the status quo on cynicism and I'll cover the other half." She bumped his shoulder and grinned. "Besides, how dumb are you gonna look when this little guy pulls through?"
He shook his head, but didn't argue.
They walked from the edge of the woods back into town and right into the vet's office. Chloe was exhausted, but she didn't stop to take a rest, instead she marched up to the front desk of the veterinarian's clinic and demanded attention. "He's hurt and he needs help. I know you guys don't usually deal with wild animals, but he was dying in the woods and he had nobody with him."
Derek came forward and held out the tiny fox.
"That doesn't look good," Deaton admitted honestly, but waved a hand for them to follow.
The fox had to have his leg reset and sewed up; he was put on antibiotics but they were warned that they didn't think he would pull through or even last the night.
Chloe stayed in the room overnight, petting the sleeping fox from the top of its head down to the tip of its tail. She told it stories about the mysteries they'd solved and then created fairy tales of a fox king that ruled the forest.
Derek stayed with her the whole night, curled up in one of the stiff chairs, listening with a half-smile as he dozed in and out of sleep.
The next day they were told the fox seemed a little stronger and had lasted longer than they expected.
Chloe wasn't allowed to stay another night, mostly because her mom and step-dad put their foot down, but she was there every day before and after school to check on him over the next few weeks.
He made a full recovery and when he was ready, she and Derek released it back into the wild.
It stayed near them a moment, staring up at Chloe, as if it understood what she'd done for it, before she shooed it away with, "Go, rule the forest mighty king."
And it skittered off, its tail swishing.
She looked up at him then and smiled. "Told ya."
Rolling his eyes, he bumped her shoulder. But as he stared out into the forest, still hearing the steady heartbeat of the fox that no longer carried the pungent smell of death, he thought to himself how lucky it was that Chloe had found it. And how lucky he was that if he was ever dying, he'd have her there to nurse him back to health.
His hands dug into her shoulders as he held her close, blowing out a heavy breath as his anger and grief rolled inside him, twisting and turning, up and down, volatile and overwhelming. His nails started to lengthen and curl, but he retracted them, thinking of revenge and how he would find whoever did it and make them pay. He thought of tearing out the throat of a faceless enemy; feeling it course down his arm as he watched a faceless body slump to the ground.
She leaned back from him, squeezing his shoulders, and shook her head. "Whoever did it, we'll find them," she promised, her eyes dark with resolve.
He was surprised by how comforted he was by her words, but then remembered that she was one of the smartest people he knew; that most of their childhood was spent cracking mysteries wide open because Chloe could smell a conspiracy a mile away. She always knew when something was off and needed solving. Except him. She'd never realized that her own best friend was born a werewolf and that every full moon he'd run through the woods with his pack or, in the earlier years, be chained down so he didn't hurt or kill anybody. When he learned control, he was let free, and while his base urges were stronger, they didn't overpower him.
When he was twelve years old, he used the memory of Chloe's laughter to reign him in. He would think of her and how she'd smile at him; her blonde hair flipping up at the ends, and he would feel the animal inside him begin to calm. When he asked his parents, they'd exchanged a look before telling him that he had to find his anchor, something to tie him back to his human half so the wolf wouldn't reign supreme. From then until he was seventeen, Chloe was his anchor. And then Kate showed up and he was drawn in; she was dangerous and sexy and she pulled at his animal senses as much as the human. Still, even as he was sleeping with her and falling deeper into her trap, it was never her face or her laugh that kept him steady on the full moon. And he never stopped to wonder why, never questioned it. Especially when months later, his family was slaughtered in a fire and he knew— He knewit was her and her family; the Argents. Even thinking their name made a burst of violent anger seethe up inside him. He held onto that righteous resentment for six long years, revenge and hatred pushing him on.
And now his sister was dead; his last remaining family member besides his catatonic uncle, and he wanted, more than anything, to tear Kate's jugular out too and smile as she bled to death.
"Derek?" Chloe's thumb rubbed over his cheek.
"I should go," he said, his brow furrowed.
"No." She shook her head, staring at him seriously. "You're not leaving. Not when you just found out that Laura…" Her voice trailed off, cracking. She blinked quickly. "Stay. I—I'll make up the couch or you can have the bed, but just…" She searched his face. "Please don't go, I… I just got you back and a week ago I was having lunch with Laura and we were laughing about what we were like as kids and… Maybe it's selfish, but I just… I need you here. I—I need to know that you're okay or… as okay as you can be."
He sighed. He'd planned to stay out at the Hale house; it wasn't the Hilton by any means and he knew it hadn't been repaired or rebuilt, but it was his and it was tied to everything he'd lost in his life. He needed it, needed to be there so it could keep pushing him, driving him to get his revenge. So when he laid his head down at night, he wouldn't forget who he was or why.
But Chloe was asking him to stay and… Even when he was five years old it had been hard to say no to her, and it hadn't changed now that he was twenty-three.
She tipped her head and stared down at him, empathy radiating thickly off of her. "Look, we'll sleep and tomorrow we'll start asking questions. We'll stop by the sheriff's department and see what they found out and then I can show you what I know she was working on."
He nodded.
Climbing off the couch, she walked toward her linen closet to get out a spare sheet, blanket, and then stole a pillow from her bed. "Why don't you take the bed?" she suggested, dropping everything down on the couch.
He shook his head. "No, seriously, it's—"
"It was rhetorical," she cut him off. "You're taking the bed." She put her hands on her hips and stared down at him, lips quirked in a knowing smile.
His mouth twisted in a defeated smile. "No point in arguing." He stood from the couch, towering over her. "Thanks for…" He nodded, not sure how to word it.
She nodded, getting it, and reached for his hand to tug him along with her, bringing him into her bedroom and flicking on the light.
He wasn't surprised to see all the bright colors; from her orange and blue bedspread to her bright red dresser and bedside table collection down to the throw rug made of different circles filled with every color of the rainbow.
"Not exactly the earth tones I remember your room being, but it'll have to do," she said, before walking in and flipping the blanket back for him. "I don't have anything for you to change into, so…" She waved a hand at him. "Do what's comfortable and I'll wash the sheets tomorrow."
He snorted, eyebrows flashing.
She half-smiled, the vague sense of victory in her face. "Night," she told him before moving past to the door. She paused and turned back, hand on the handle. "Hey, stick around in the morning… I've gotta stop by the house and wake up Stiles for his first day of school, but when I get back, we'll go for breakfast and go over what I know, all right?" She quirked her head in question.
He nodded, grinding his teeth together as he let his mind wander over what little he knew. "Goodnight," he told her.
She closed the door behind her and he could hear her footsteps as she padded back to the couch.
Derek started stripping off clothes; he folded up his shirt and jeans, damp from the rain, and pulled off his wet socks. After flicking off the lights, he climbed into her bed in just his boxer-briefs and pulled the blanket up, turning on his side and staring into the dark for a moment before sighing and burying his face in her pillow. It smelled like her; the whole bed did. Not like perfume or body wash, but like her skin. He breathed it in and felt something inside him begin to crack. His eyes closed as the burn of tears collected.
Laura was dead.
He could still remember her laugh, her lopsided smirk, how she looked when she was a baby, as an awkward teenager, as a confused, scared girl who just lost her parents, and eventually as the alpha werewolf who took control and stepped into leadership like a second skin. His hands clenched the pillow up so tight, he heard the fabric tear, and let out a heavy breath.
Laura was his baby sister; a few years younger than him, but smarter and stronger than he'd ever been. When she said she was going back to Beacon Hills, he'd outright refused to go with her. He couldn't stand the idea and he'd been a little pissed at her for going. He knew the Argents had moved away not long after the fire, but he still related Beacon Hills to danger and the last thing he wanted for his sister, alpha or not, was to step back into that.
The first night she called, she told him the town was the same as ever. And he'd noticed the same thing as he drove through; everything was exactly as it had been when he left. What might've been a comfort to some felt wrong to him; how could it not change after what happened? How could the town just continue on when ten people had died and one had been so severely traumatized that he didn't move or speak after? But it wasn't the town that caused it; it was Kate. And him. If he hadn't gotten close to her, hadn't let her get close to his family, then they wouldn't be dead and neither would Laura. Even now, if he'd just gone with her, she might've lived.
Anger and self-loathing twisted him up, eating away at his insides; he was so focused on it he almost didn't hear the door open.
His eyes, which he knew were a bright shade of glowing blue, squeezed shut and he tried but failed to retract his nails or the fangs that elongated in his mouth.
The bed dipped as Chloe climbed in behind him and laid down, her arm against his bare back.
"Do you remember when we were little…?" she asked quietly, as if she didn't want to disturb the dark. "And when I'd get in trouble or I knew the principal was going to call home and complain about something I did, someone I investigated, I'd just… find you." She shook her head. "I'd go out to your house and hide in your room or we'd hike through the woods until it was dark…" He could hear as she swallowed tightly. "You were always my safe haven, Derek. I… Even in Smallville when everything was going wrong, I'd just… wish you were there. Wish I could talkto you…" She sighed, turning onto her side, the bed shifting beneath them.
"There is nothingI can say that can make this better," she said, reaching out until her hand was flat against his back. "But I won't leave you… I wasn't there after your family died, but… I'm going to be here for every minute of this… And if you have to leave, after, later, when it's all figured out, then okay. Fine. I—I can accept that. But until we know who did this to Laura, until we get justice, then… You're stuck with me."
He breathed in deep and he felt as his teeth retracted, his nails shortened, and his eyes returned to normal. He turned over to face her and watched her face, highlighted by the moon filtering in through the window overlooking the bed. Tears glazed her eyes as she stared up at him apologetically. He reached for her, tucking her hair behind her ear, and he thought about the hundreds of times since he left Beacon Hills that he went to Smallville and to Metropolis, just needing to see her and wanting so badly to talk to her but not knowing what to say. She leaned up into his hand and he gathered her in close, resting his cheek against her head, her hair soft under his chin.
"She was the last one," he rasped, inhaling thickly. "She was all I had."
Chloe stretched her body out along his and hugged her arms around him. "I'm sorry," she murmured, over and over. She rubbed his back and kneaded his shoulders, rubbing the nape of his neck until he started to relax against her. It could've been hours or minutes, but he stayed like that, letting her try and soothe it away enough that it didn't feel like it was eating him whole. And then, as his eyes drifted shut, sleep weighing them down, she promised, "I know it's not the same, but you've got me… I'm not going anywhere."
And Derek promised himself as he fell asleep that he would never let anything happen to Chloe for as long as he lived. That she would be the last person he trusted or cared about and nothing and no one would ever harm a hair on her head. She'd been a different kind of family when he was a kid and now she would be his family again. Not in the same way Laura had, but part of him, protected by him, all the same.
He fell asleep wondering if he could still be an Olympic runner and she could write his autobiography; that life seemed so much easier than the one he got stuck with instead.
When Chloe woke up that morning, to the blaring noise of her alarm, she blinked rapidly against the sudden interruption. She noticed after a few seconds of lying back against the pillows, her arm drawn over her head, that the right side of her bed was empty. She cracked one eye open and looked over to see that Derek wasn't there, and for a moment she wondered if she'd dreamed it; if Laura's death had caused a very realistic dream. She thought she could still smell him; still feel him in her arms. Momentarily distracted, she remembered how solid and large he'd been, cradled in close to her, her hands splayed over his back. The last time she'd seen him, he'd been strong, sure, but leaner, long and lanky.
Sighing, she rolled onto her side and spotted the piece of paper on the bedside table. Not a dream. She smiled and grabbed it up, squinting at his slanted, chicken-scratch writing. He promised to meet her at the diner at eight for breakfast, said he had something to do first. She pushed up from bed, glancing at the clock that read six am and wondered what he could possibly have needed to do. Pushing off the bed, she started for her bathroom, stripping off her shirt as she went.
"Well that's an unexpected morning greeting," came a familiar voice.
"Oh my god," she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around her chest, hands tucked in her armpits, turning her head abruptly to look at him with wide eyes. "I thought you left."
He tried to stifle a smile. "I just wrote that. I heard your alarm go off so I thought I'd wait and tell you in person…" His eyebrows rose. "I didn't think you'd start getting naked as soon as I left…"
She rolled her eyes. "I was going to shower."
He shrugged. "Most people wait until they're in the bathroom."
She scoffed. "When have I ever been most people?" She started for the bathroom, brows furrowed. "What did you see?"
He tucked his arms behind his back and gave her a blank face.
"Too much," she decided, before walking through the door, closing it behind her with her foot. "I'll see you at eight!"
"Try to dress appropriately."
"Shut up!" she shouted, laughing.
Still smiling to herself, Chloe finished undressing and hopped in for a shower.
An hour later, after brushing her teeth, blow-drying and straightening her hair, putting on a little light make-up, and pouring herself a travel mug of coffee, she was walking out of her apartment and locking up; she'd dressed casually since she planned on taking the day off from work and spending it with Derek on the trail left by Laura.
She took her car out to the Stilinski house and was just pulling in as John was leaving, coffee in hand.
"You're early," he said.
"And you're leaving before we settle our bet," she reminded with a smile.
He laughed under his breath and waited for her to meet him on the walkway. "How are you feeling?" he asked, pulling the door open and following her inside.
She shrugged, tucking her hands in the pockets of her jacket. "Like I can't believe it's really happened…" She looked over at him sadly. "I have moments where I accept it and others where I'm really hoping it's just a nightmare that I'll wake up from."
He nodded, eyes cast to the floor. "Well, I'm going in to talk to the coroner now…" he told her. "So if you stop by around lunch, I might have a few answers for you. No promises, but I'll see what I can do."
She smiled. "You're a peach, Sheriff."
He snorted and shook his head. "You know, when you were a kid, you spent most of your time in and out of my office for getting into trouble… Seems kind of funny that you use those same skills to bring others to justice."
"I only write the news, you makeit," she reminded.
"We're on the same team, Chloe." He reached for her and brought her in so he could kiss her temple. "If you need anything…"
She closed her eyes and nodded. "I know, and thanks."
He started back for the door, saying over his shoulder. "Keep me updated on Stiles."
She chuckled. "Oh, I will."
As he walked out, the door creaked closed behind him. Chloe climbed the stairs up to the second floor, hand smoothing over the banister, and walked down the hall to Stiles room. Beside it was her old bedroom, now filled with boxes, much of it her mother's things that John hadn't had the heart to get rid of. She knocked lightly on Stiles' door but he didn't answer, so she pushed it open slowly and peeked around.
His bedroom was surprisingly clean for a teenage boy; his walls had posters of bands and movies he loved, his dirty clothes were in the general direction of his laundry basket, his desk was topped with a boxset of his favorite TV series, a laptop, and a mess of pens and pencils. The bookshelf on the far wall was a mixture of books, comic books, action figures, and photo albums that she knew were originally their mom's. A corkboard pinned lopsidedly to the wall had a calendar, two months behind, the ticket stubs to a concert he went to the summer before, a picture of him and their mom before she got sick, a photo-strip that he and Chloe had taken when she'd come to visit him when he was still a gawky, awkward eleven year old, and a picture of the ever pretty Lydia Martin.
Stiles was lying face down on his bed, splayed like a starfish, his alarm clock toppled and hanging over the edge of his bedside table by the cord. She rolled her eyes and walked further into the room.
Because Chloe was still his sister, regardless of how mature she was, she jumped on his bed.
"What the— Who— Holy sh—" Stiles complained, rolling right off the bed and landing on his back. "Ow," he said, eyes screwed up as he laid there. "Okay, that wasn't necessary."
Snorting, she hopped off the bed to land next to him. "It's almost seven-thirty," she told him. "You've got less than an hour if you want to be on time."
He sat up abruptly and scrubbed a hand over his face. "My alarm! I—" He turned his head and stared at it, dangling. Tipping his head, he nodded. "Oh. Right."
She smiled and started for the door. "You're welcome."
"Yeah." He pushed up from the floor, grabbing onto the bed for balance. "Oh, hey…"
She turned back.
"Uh…" His eyes fell and he waved his hands around. "About last night, with the body and…" He swallowed and walked toward her. "I know it hasn't been identified but dad said he was pretty sure it was, uh, Laura so… I guess…" He rubbed a hand down the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, Chloe…" He stared at her earnestly. "I know you and Laura were friends. I mean… I don't really remember her much, but… I don't know, everybody you're friends with has to be good people, right?"
She smiled sadly. "Smallville tested that, but… The Hales were. All of them." She dropped her eyes for a moment before offering a reassuring smile. "But hey, it's okay because I'm going to find out what happened…" She nodded determinedly. "So it'll be fine."
She turned to leave again but he reached for her arm and pulled her back. He stared into her eyes, mouth folded regretfully, before finally he pulled her into a hug. He squeezed her tight and said, "I'm here, okay? I mean, I don't always say the right thing but… I'm here for you."
Chloe nodded, wrapping her arms around his waist. "I know, Stiles…" She held on for a little while, letting the moment sink in, before finally pulling back and swiping at her eyes. "But seriously, you need to get dressed!" She pointed at him. "First day of school, remember?" She winked. "You'll want to look good for Beacon Hill's princess, Miss Lydia Martin," she said with a grandiose tone.
He rolled his eyes. "You laugh now, but when she's your sister-in-law…" He trailed off, brows hiked, before he started for the bathroom, hands up. "I'm just saying… Get used to it now."
She bit her lip and quirked a brow. "You want me to draw up the wedding invitations now or…?"
He shook his head. "Nah, she's probably already got them figured out. She's a planner."
Chloe laughed. "Good to know."
He grinned before turning on his heel and walking into the bathroom.
She made her way back downstairs and went to the kitchen; Stiles tended to do the shopping for both him and John, since his dad was always busy, but he was still a teenage boy. He probably didn't have time for her to make anything substantial so she just got out a bowl and a box of less sugary cereal before grabbing out the jug of milk and putting in a couple slices of bread for toast.
They popped as she heard Stiles heavy footsteps racing down the stairs.
She buttered them before putting a jar of jam and a butter knife on the table.
Stiles walked into the dining room, dragging his shirt on over his head.
"Good?" she asked.
He sat down and shoved a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. His muffled reply of, "Good!" was joined by a thumbs-up.
"What about lunch money?" she wondered.
He dug out his wallet from his back pocket, spoon hanging out of his mouth, and showed her a ten.
"Okay, and after?" Her eyebrow arched. "You've got lacrosse practice, right?"
Rolling his eyes, he plucked his spoon out. "Yes, mom."
"Hey, if you don't want my help…" She held her hands up in a 'do it yourself then' gesture.
He frowned, eyes turned off to the side. "No, I probably need you…" he sighed.
"Would it be weird if I showed up to practice?" she wondered, eyes narrowed. "Maybe wore a Team Stiles t-shirt? Broke out the pom-poms?"
He glared witheringly at her. "Yes."
She laughed. "Fine. But only because I'm busy all day today anyway…" Arms crossed, she rested them on the table and leaned forward. "Which reminds me… Scott was in the woods with you last night, right?"
He nodded, chewing his cereal.
"I called for him after you and John were out of hearing range but I didn't get an answer." She tipped her head. "Have you talked to him? He's okay?"
"Mmm…" He shook his head and swallowed his bite. "He got bit by something, I guess, I don't know. But he's fine. We're meeting at school."
"Bitby something?" Her brow furrowed.
"Yeah, he said he was walking through the forest, trying to stay out of sight, and I dunno…" He shrugged. "He almost got trampled by this whole herd of deer and then something attacked him… Bit him on the side."
"Did he go to the doctor?" she worried.
"His mom's a nurse; he just used the first aid kit and wrapped it up."
"Uh, I don't wanna burst your little teenage bubble of irresponsibility, but if you don't know what bit him, he should get it checked out. What if whatever it was had rabies?" She shook her head and hiked her brows meaningfully. "Seriously, tell him to stop by the hospital."
He shrugged, holding up his hands. "All right. I don't even know how bad it is. I mean, he just said 'bite', so…"
She hummed. "Yeah, well, if you came home with a bite, I don't care howbig, I'd drag you to the hospital myself…" Grabbing up her bag, she told him, "I gotta go. But have a good first day. I expect details at dinner."
He saluted her with his spoon, frowning as he accidentally flicked milk into his own face.
Chuckling to herself, she waved over her shoulder and walked out, checking her watch for the time before she hopped in her car to meet Derek for breakfast.
Stiles frowned, rolling his eyes as watched Jackson pull a 'better than you' move and knock his car door into Scott, who was pulling off his helmet, leaning against his bike in the rack.
"Yo, Jackson! Let's go, bro!" someone yelled behind him.
Stiles snorted, crossing his arms over his chest and nodding as he saw Scott approach.
He bounced on his heels, holding the strap of his backpack. "Okay, let's see this thing…" he said as Scott met him.
Dropping his bag to the ground at his feet, he reached for the bottom of his hoodie, wincing as he pulled up the grey fabric, showing a large square bandage taped to his side, blood soaking through some of it.
"Oooh!" he exclaimed, reaching out, his whole hand spanning the gauze.
Scott flinched, leaning away from his touch. "Whoa!" he said, warning him off.
Brow furrowed as he stared at it, Stiles retracted his hand.
Dropping his shirt back into place, Scott grabbed up his bag, his Lacrosse stick strapped to the side. "It was too dark to see much, but I'm pretty sure it was a wolf," he said, turning to start walking up the path leading to the high school.
"A wolf bit you?" Stiles said, brows hiked with amusement.
"Uh-huh."
"No. Not a chance," he said simply, laughing under his breath.
Scott's brow furrowed. "I heard a wolf howling," he replied, waving his hand.
Shaking his head, Stiles reared it back, saying with certainty, "No, you didn't."
He laughed shortly. "What do you mean, 'no, I didn't'? How do you know what I heard?"
He snorted with laughter. "Because California doesn't have wolves, okay?" He slowed down and turned to face him. "Not in like sixty years."
Scott's face screwed up in confusion. "Really?"
"Yes, really!" he exclaimed, shaking his head. "There are no wolves in California!" He wave his fingers with finality.
Scott looked away, head tipped thoughtfully. Brows hiked, he said with a half-smile, "All right, well if you don't believe me about the wolf, then you're definitely not going to believe me about when I tell you I foundthe body."
"Dude! Are you kidding me?" He leaned in closer, his eyes wide.
"No, man, I wish! I'm gonna have nightmares for a month."
"Wait, which half?" he wondered.
"Uh…" His brow furrowed. "The top half?"
Stiles nodded. "Dad said they found the bottom half not long after I was found out… Which reminds me," He slapped a hand against Scott's chest. "My sister said she called out for you after we left, she wanted to make sure you were okay."
Scott smiled goofily. "She did?"
He rolled his eyes. "Dude, your crush on my sister is weird and gross. She's seven years older than you, okay?" He shook his head. "She babysat us and read us bedtime stories… It's over!"
He simply shrugged. "Chloe's nice, and pretty… And she always kept an extra inhaler on her because of my asthma attacks…"
"Okay, but you don't fall for the first pretty girl that's nice to you, all right?"
Scott snorted. "Like you're much better? Instead of falling for a nice girl, you fell for one who doesn't even know you exist."
"She… knows I exist," he muttered defensively. "She… is walking right toward us." He perked up and grinned at the strawberry blonde beauty walking with her arm up, purse hooked at her elbow, friend at her side. He grinned. "Hey Lydia!" he greeted as she walked past him. "You look…" He stared at her back as she climbed the stairs to the school entrance. "Like you're going to ignore me…" He frowned, brow knotted, and tapped his foot to work off the frustration. He turned back to Scott. "You're the cause of this, y'know?"
Amused, Scott said, "Uh-huh."
"Dragging me down to your nerd depths."
The bell rang shrilly in the background.
"Uh-huh," Scott said, walking around him toward the school.
"I'm a nerd by association," Stiles continued. "I've been scarlet nerded by you."
He snorted. "You want me to apologize?"
He shrugged his shoulders high, eyes round. "It would be appreciated."
Scott merely grinned.
Later, in English class, they sat a row apart, with Stiles a seat behind.
The teacher stood at the front, writing on the chalkboard, back to the room, and said, "As you all know there indeed was a body found in the woods last night… And I'm sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened… But I am here to tell you that the police have a suspect in custody…"
Brows furrowed, Stiles turned his head to look at a confused Scott; he flipped his hands up and shook his head, having no idea what their teacher was talking about. As far as he knew, nobody was in custody, and he was pretty sure Chloe would've mentioned it.
"Which means," the teacher went on, "you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus which is on your desk outlining this semester."
The class groaned and Stiles sat back, rubbing his nose as the urge to sneeze rose up. He frowned down at his desk, opening the syllabus, but thinking instead about how his sister had looked that morning. While the recent body found in the woods would usually be insanely interesting, since it wasn't so often that Beacon Hills had a murder on their hands, it was a little different when he kind of knew the person. He didn't really remember Laura, but he did remember Derek.
He'd been five years old when Chloe packed up and moved from California all the way over to Kansas, so he only had vague memories of chasing after her and wanting to be included in the latest mystery she and Derek Hale were out to solve. Derek had been a tall boy with dark hair and an easy grin. His most memorable feature though was that he was always attached to Chloe's hip. Stiles remembered his mom lamenting that she never saw Derek hanging around with anybody but his family since Chloe moved away. His memories were more defined as he grew up. Chloe visited every summer and spring break and split her time between her family, often babysitting Stiles and Scott, and spending all of her free time with Derek catching up. And even then, Stiles had been the hyperactive little brother that wanted to tag along on everything. Chloe usually put him off, promising that when he was old enough, she'd take him along to go scoobying with her.
Stiles was nine when the big fire took the Hale house, he remembered watching the news footage and later seeing his mom, pacing and worrying. His dad had been on site, trying to find out if anybody knew anything or who all was home. It had happened during school but the fire went on for hours, fighting against the small army of firefighters that came to put it out. He remembered sitting in the hallway, kicking his legs back and forth, as Derek and Laura Hale sat in his dad's office, being told what happened to their family. And he remembered how his mom had hugged a stiff Derek and offered them a place in their house. At the time, Stiles had wondered if they would be family; if Derek and Laura would be like his sister and brother. He wondered too if it meant Chloe would come home, since she'd been close to the Hale family and he figured she'd want to be there for Derek after what happened. But Derek said no, stopping that idea in its tracks, and later, while Chloe would come back, it was only for the funeral. Derek and Laura left town not long after, and Chloe went back to Smallville to live with her dad.
Stiles tried to picture Laura's face but he was stuck on how lost and angry Derek had looked. In how broken and sad Chloe had been when she came home, and even this morning, the rings under her eyes and heavy grief that hung on her shoulders despite how she tried to hide it with her usual sunny disposition. In the time since his mother had died, Chloe had stepped up to do everything she could to be his family, to be his leaning post. She managed to fill the role of his sister and sometimes, even his mother. And the idea that she was hurting bothered him, a lot. But it was out of his control, and maybe that made it worse.
The door opened then, drawing attention, while the vice principal escorted a pretty brunette in behind him. "Class, this is our new student, Alison Argent," he introduced, tucking his hands in the pockets of his pressed pants.
She smiled awkwardly at them, her head ducked slightly in discomfort.
"Please do your best to make her feel welcome." As he turned to leave, Alison started up the second to last aisle, avoiding eye contact with as many as she could.
She smiled at him briefly as she passed and he gave her a friendly nod before she took a seat right behind Scott, who turned around, his eyes wide, and held out a pen.
Stiles smirked at his best friend's expression and figured his crush on Chloe had just been blown out of the water.
"Thanks," Allison said, taking the pen.
Scott continued to stare, smiling slightly, before the teacher drew their attention and they were forced to focus on class.
Shaking his head, Stiles marked a check in the pro column for today. It hadn't started out the best, but knowing Scott wasn't crushing on his sister was an upside he could work with. He hoped the rest of the day followed suit.
Chloe half-smiled, looking up as a body filled the other side of the booth she was occupying. "You're late."
Derek readjusted his jacket. "Took me a little longer this morning than I expected…" He looked up as Jessa stopped at their table. "Uh, coffee, please?"
"That's it?" Chloe shook her head. "Two breakfast specials, please and thanks," she ordered for both of them.
He quirked an eyebrow. "Still as demanding as I remember."
She shrugged, eyebrows flashing. "All part of my charm…" She leaned back in her seat and wrapped her hands around her coffee mug, letting the warmth seep into her hands. "So what had you busy this morning?"
His eyes turned away momentarily. "I went out to the house."
She paused before looking at him. "You drove out there?" She shook her head. "It hasn't been rebuilt. I… I don't think they've done anything with it except clean up the surrounding area."
He nodded, his teeth clenched. "It's still standing though… It had a strong structure."
"Derek…" She leaned forward and covered his hand, rubbing her thumb around one of his knuckles. "That probably wasn't easy for you…"
He pursed his lips. "I had to."
She shook her head. "Please tell me you don't still blame yourself for what happened…" She frowned. "You were at school, and even then, you were seventeen. You couldn't know that would happen…"
"I shouldhave…" He nodded, raising his eyes to meet hers, his expression sad but earnest. "It wasmy fault, what happened…"
She sighed.
The waitress appeared then and turned over a mug, filling it nearly to the brim with hot, black coffee.
Chloe let go of his hand so he could pour in the necessary sugar; he never added cream.
"John said he'd have something from the coroner around lunch," she told him, resting her elbows on the tabletop. "They're also going out to search for the… other half… They might already be out, since he planned it for early morning…" She watched his face a long moment. "She had a hotel room; there wasn't much in it. A couple changes of clothes still in her bag and a photo album… I brought it back to my house, if you want them."
He nodded, staring down into his coffee mug.
"Did she tell you why she was coming here?"
He shook his head.
"There was an animal attack, kind of bizarre. She was investigating it." Her brows hiked. "She wouldn't say why, but that's what she was looking for."
"Did she find anything?" he wondered.
Chloe shrugged. "I don't know. She asked about it when she first got here but she didn't bring it up again after. We visited, she stopped in to see Peter at the hospital, and then, I don't know… I saw her every day for a week and suddenly she just didn't show up."
He ground his teeth, glaring into the distance.
"We have some time to waste, so we'll stop by my office and get what I had collected on the investigation… I was already working on it when she started asking questions; I haven't made much headway but it's something…"
He nodded.
Their food arrived then and they were distracted for a moment; or she was as she unrolled her cutlery. Derek was still brooding, stuck in his head. She pushed his plate at him. "Hey…" She waited until he met her eyes. "Have I ever not solved the mystery?"
He relaxed slightly and shook his head.
"Then eat." She tapped the plate with her fork. "We'll figure it out."
He sighed, but picked up his own cutlery and started on his pancakes.
His stomach gave a growl and her lips twitched. "Hungry?"
"Most of the time," he muttered.
"Guess you haven't changed too much."
He smiled to himself but it faded quickly. "I'm not the same kid I was, Chloe…" He raised his eyes to meet hers. "I'm not who you remember."
"None of us are how we were as kids…" She shook her head. "I'd like to think I'm better at not getting caught when I break and enter…" She half-smiled.
He licked his lips, scoffing to himself.
Sobering, she said sincerely, "Derek, I don't expect you to be exactly who you were, I just hope you held on to some of your finer points…" Her eyes narrowed. "And I don't mean those cheekbones of yours, either."
He laughed, a smile breaking through.
Biting her lip, she gazed at him thoughtfully. "Whoever you turned out to be, you're still my best friend… And I'll stick with you, whatever happens."
He stared at her for a long, searching moment, before finally nodding.
"Good." She pointed. "Now eat up."
"Yes, ma'am," he teased before digging in.
Chloe knew the lighthearted banter wouldn't last long; it never did. But any respite she might give him from what happened to Laura, she would make the most out of.
[Next: Part III.]