Hey, guys! So sorry for taking so long to update! Life has been crazy lately!

Thank you all so much for the reviews, follows, and favorites; you guys are amazing and I appreciate the support so much! So thank you!

I don't own Teen Wolf. Just Skye :)

Enjoy!

-:-

Skye had to admit, once she stepped under the stream of warm water, that a shower was exactly what she needed. The water pounded against the sore and sensitive skin of her back, releasing some of the knots that she had built up due to worry. It felt good to wash out the dirt and grime and blood that seemed to have made its way all the way down to her bones. The scent of Derek's shampoo filled her nostrils, soothing her.

Once she finished, she stepped out into the moderately sized bathroom, wrapping the towel Derek had left her around her wet body. Without a comb, she was left to simply rake her fingers through her blonde hair. As she finished toweling off, she glanced around the bathroom, noting how clean it was. The counter next to the sink was bare minus his toothbrush and toothpaste. Skye ran her tongue over her teeth, wishing she had a toothbrush. But whoever had dumped her in the woods hadn't been kind enough to leave her such a thing. She had gone through her jeans and hadn't even found a wallet.

Skye finished drying off, hanging the now damp towel over the shower to dry. Making sure the bathroom door was locked, she turned and inspected her naked body in the full length mirror on the back of the door. She twisted, wincing when the wounds on her back protested the movement. They were stitched up nicely; professional looking. She poked some of the larger bruises on her torso, ran her fingers along the scrapes she'd acquired while running through the woods. It seemed very familiar to her, all the cuts and bruises. Judging by the scars on her body, it seemed like she'd been through a lot of tough spots.

Sighing, she put her bra and underwear on, then pulled Derek's shirt over her head. It was too wide for her, but given her fairly tall build, it only skimmed the tops of her thighs. She grabbed her jeans and frowned. They were covered in blood and dirt, much too filthy to put on her now clean body. There were holes in the knees, but they'd been there when she'd first woken up in the woods. Given that this was her only pair of pants for the time being, she decided to ask Derek if he could wash them for her.

Unlocking the bathroom door, Skye stepped out, turning to shut the door behind her. When she rotated back around, she stopped short, eyes traveling up to look into the face of a man that wasn't Derek. She remembered Derek saying something about his uncle before and wondered if this was him. There was something in the sharp lines of his face, his dark hair, and his tall and muscular build that reminded her of Derek, but that was where the resemblance ended.

"You must be Skye," the man said, crooked smile on his face. He was a charmer, and with his looks, it worked, but not on her.

"You must be the uncle Derek mentioned," Skye replied.

"I prefer Peter," he grinned, giving her a quick once over.

"Right…" Feeling self-conscious all the sudden, Skye tugged on the hem of Derek's tee, wishing it were longer. She gripped her jeans tightly in her other hand, ready to chuck them at Peter's face and run if he tried anything.

"Peter, leave her alone," Derek's voice sounded as he rounded the corner and Skye had never been so relieved to see him. Derek shot a disapproving look at his uncle, but Skye didn't miss the quick glance he cast in her direction first.

"Oh, come on," Peter complained in a mocking voice. "I'm just trying to make some friends."

"Yeah, no one wants to be your friend," Derek said bluntly and Skye would've laughed if Peter hadn't been standing so close. She didn't think Peter would hurt her—at worst, he only seemed intrigued by her—but that didn't mean she had to like him.

"Wow, Derek, why don't you just tell me how you really feel," Peter grumbled.

"Fine," Derek shrugged. "Go away."

"I live here, too, you know," Peter pointed out.

"Yeah, well, you can go downstairs or something. There's plenty of other space that you can live in."

"You're just as bossy and moody as your mother," Peter muttered.

"Hey, she was your sister," Derek called back to him as Peter headed down the hall. She heard his footsteps on the metal staircase just a few seconds later.

Skye smiled as Peter went, leaving her and Derek alone. She had a feeling she'd been in many situations where'd she'd bickered with someone—or multiple someone's—over meaningless things. Watching Peter and Derek exchange banter so effortlessly both amused her and gave her a feeling of longing for whoever it was that she once conversed with. Pushing her troubling thoughts away, she turned to Derek, who eyed her dirty jeans.

"You need me to wash those?" he asked, holding out a hand to take them.

"Uh, yeah," Skye said, handing them over. "That would be great. Thanks."

"No problem." Derek shrugged. "There's pizza in the kitchen. I'm sure you're hungry, so,"

Skye didn't actually realize how hungry she was until he mentioned it. The thought of pizza—the cheese, the grease-made her stomach rumble in protest, making her realize just how empty it was. Derek seemed to hear her stomach grumble and he chuckled softly as he led her around the corner and into a large, open kitchen. There was dark table in the middle of the room with two mismatched chairs—one with a red, vinyl seat and steel back, and the other dark brown wood like the table. Sitting on the table was two pizza boxes, a couple of paper plates, and a six pack of beers. Skye practically drooled at the sight of the food. One of the pizzas was three-quarters gone, and Skye assumed Peter had gotten first dibs.

"Help yourself." Derek gestured towards the table, giving her a small smile.

Skye did just that. She finished her first piece in record time, barely taking a breath as she inhaled her food. Even Derek seemed impressed.

"When was the last time you ate?" he asked, then seemed to realize what he'd asked after Skye gave him a pointed look and then shrugged. "Right. You can't remember anything, so obviously you can't remember the last time you ate. Let's just hope you're not lactose intolerant."

Skye shook her head. "I'm not. I do know that. Again, it's like some things I can remember, no problem, but anything related to what happened to me or how I got here beats me."

Derek nodded, her forehead creased, mouth down in a slight frown, features overall pensive. Skye noticed that he seemed to frown a lot. Somehow, though, it suited him. She'd probably be a little wierded out if he smiled all the time. As she chewed, she took the time to really look at him. Since he'd rescued her and she'd realized what he was, all she expected when she looked at him was that he could wolf out at any second. So she took a figurative step back to look at the man that had saved her.

Despite his seemingly constant grumpy expression, he was attractive, she wouldn't deny that. He had the whole tall, dark, and handsome thing going for him, only adding to the air of danger and mystery that surrounded him like a storm cloud. His face was unreadable. She could tell if he was upset or thinking, but his features never gave any hint to the deeper thoughts that ran through his mind and through his heart. His eyes did, though. She supposed there was some truth to the whole 'the eyes are windows to the soul' thing. Sure, Derek could harden his gaze, make his face a blank mask. Anyone could if they tried hard enough. But here, in his loft, where he was safe, the walls dropped and she could see what lay underneath. He was kind and gentle and caring, despite his hard edges, forged by what she was sure was something of immense suffering.

Skye decided she like Derek. Maybe even trusted him a little.

She wondered, though, would she trust him when she found out about her past? Would he regret saving her once he knew about her past?

"You said you knew someone who could help me?" Skye said suddenly, brushing crumbs off her hands.

Derek nodded. "Yeah. He's kind of an expert on these things."

"And by 'these things' you mean the supernatural?"

"Yes," Derek affirmed. "He's the one who sewed you up."

By mention of her injuries, she could almost feel them burn more intensely than before. She shifted in her seat.

"So, is he a doctor or something?" she asked.

Derek gave her a wry smile, his green eyes twinkling with the knowledge of knowing something she didn't. "Kind of,"

"The hell does that mean?"

"Well, he's a doctor, just not one who works on humans," Derek said like it cleared everything up. "He's a veterinarian."

"Oh," was all Skye said. Sure, why not? she thought. After all, werewolves existed. So a vet who doubled as an expert in the supernatural and dabbled in the art of stitching people back together didn't really surprise her all that much.

"What if it doesn't pan out?" Skye asked in a quieter tone, voicing her doubts. "What if he doesn't know how to help me get my memories back?"

"Well," Derek started slowly, flexing his fingers, and Skye thought his claws were going to pop out. "I have something else I can try if it doesn't work. But I figured we'd go to him first. His methods are a little less painful."

He said it so bluntly, almost casually, that Skye's head snapped up to meet his gaze. Looking at him—the coolness of his gaze, the way his hands sat half-open on the table, reaching towards her like flicking out his claws and slashing her throat would be no problem—she understood why werewolves were something to be feared if you got on their bad side. The man sitting across from her was incredibly deadly; a top predator. If she blinked wrong he could end her life and she probably wouldn't have time to even beg for her life.

"Well," Skye said, swallowing down an fear she had. "What are we waiting for?"

She pushed herself up from the table and upon feeling Derek's gaze on her, realized what the problem was.

"Shit," she muttered.

"Pants would probably help," Derek said, finishing her thoughts out loud, trying to stifle a laugh as he spoke. "We can leave in an hour."

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"You ready?" Derek asked Skye as he cut the engine.

Skye paused, taking a look out the windshield at the animal clinic. He watched her take a deep breath. He could smell the nervousness on her—and a hint of fear—but she was trying to bury them both and he admired her for that. She turned to look at him, a small smile on her face, meant to comfort herself more than him.

"Let's go," she said, unbuckling her seatbelt and climbing out of his car.

Derek followed suit, leading her into the building. It was early afternoon on a Sunday, and when they walked in, Deaton was just finishing up with a customer at the counter. Deaton noticed Derek and gave him a slight nod in acknowledgement. Skye stood by his side, arms crossed over her chest, quietly taking everything in. Derek watched the older lady at the front desk. She had a dog carrier on the floor next to her. Inside was a golden retriever puppy, one of his front legs bandaged up. Derek could sense the pup's restlessness, the pain it felt flooded through the bars of its carrier. The puppy whined and the woman tried to quiet it, her brow knit in concern.

Derek stepped forward. "May I?" he asked the woman quietly, gesturing to the puppy. Deaton gave him a small smile, and he could feel Skye's gaze on his back. "I'm really good with dogs,"

The woman nodded, a grateful smile brightening her worried features. "Yes, thank you."

Derek opened the cage and took the pup into his arms, walking slowly back over to Skye so Deaton could finish speaking to its owner. Skye watched him, eyes flicking between him and the puppy.

Skye gently turned the puppy's tag over in her fingers, reading the name carved into the little metal plate. "Says his name is 'Gunner',"

Derek traced a hand over Gunner's broken leg, and the pup let out a tiny whimper. He could smell the painkillers Deaton had given the dog, but they were slowly wearing off. Derek tapped into his wolf side, sending out a soothing presence to the puppy. It calmed quickly, nestling more comfortably in his arms. Running his hand up and across the dog's back, he took some of its slowly returning pain. It ran through his veins black, like a disease, and Derek exhaled slowly.

Skye watched him closely, her mouth open a little in awe, which made Derek feel all that much better about what he'd done. He could tell that Skye didn't trust him completely, and he had a feeling it had something to do with her knowing that he was a werewolf. He wasn't sure if he trusted her completely, either, especially with him not knowing who she was or where she came from. But he decided that baby steps were best.

Deaton finished with his customer and Derek gently placed the puppy back in its carrier as the woman thanked him. The minute she was gone, Deaton stepped out from behind the counter and flipped the sign on his door from 'open' to 'closed'. Then he gestured for them to follow him into the back.

"Any sign of that other werewolf?" Deaton asked as he picked up.

"No," Derek replied, casting a quick glance over at Skye, who had stayed a step behind him. "Haven't really looked yet, though. I've got its scent, so when I get the chance, tracking it won't be hard."

Deaton simply nodded, then turned to face the both of them. He reached out a hand towards Skye, which she shook.

"Deaton," the vet introduced himself.

"Skye," she replied, letting her hand fall back to her side.

"How are your stiches holding?" Deaton asked.

"Fine," Skye replied earnestly. "Thank you for helping me,"

"Well, Derek here didn't give me much of a choice," Deaton eyed him pointedly.

"You had a choice," Derek corrected. "Helping her was just the right one."

Deaton rolled his eyes, and then his expression quickly turned to one of confusion. "So, why are you here, then? Is everything all right?"

"Not exactly," Derek replied, looking at Skye. "She can't remember anything."

Once they filled Deaton in on the situation, they led him back to his office. It was fairly small, walls painted dark blue. Deaton's degrees and awards hung on the walls behind his desk, but other than that, there were no decorations. The furniture in the room consisted of a basic black desk with a computer monitor sitting on it, a lamp in one corner, and a small brown couch and matching chair.

"Skye, why don't you lie down on the couch," Deaton suggested. She did so warily, her body tense.

Derek stood behind Deaton as the vet took a seat in the chair across from her. He crossed his arms over his chest, exchanging a look with Skye. He gave her a comforting look and saw her noticeably relax.

"Skye," Deaton started softly, as if he were talking to a wounded animal. "I don't think this is a supernatural occurrence, your memory loss?"

Skye looked as confused as ever. "You don't?"

"What do you think it is?" Derek asked before Deaton could answer Skye's question.

"I think it's you, Skye," Deaton told her, but the answer was for Derek as well. "I think…something happened to you and now you're blocking out memories associated with whatever it is that happened. It's called Dissociative Amnesia."

Skye didn't say anything, but Derek watched her brow wrinkle just the slightest, like she was thinking back, trying to remember what would have put her in this state.

"I'm going to perform hypnosis on you, to try and unblock those memories," Deaton explained.

"Okay," Skye agreed.

"All right, lie back and I need you to relax," Deaton said softly, his voice soothing. "I want you relax completely. Clear your mind."

Skye settled into the couch, folding her hands across her stomach. Derek saw her body sag, relaxation settling into her limbs, weighing them down. Her eyes shut and she took a few deep breaths, the fabric of his shirt that she was still wearing falling up and down with each breath.

"Good," Deaton said. "I'm going to countdown from ten…"

Derek watched Skye as Deaton counted down. She looked like she was asleep. Either that or dead. The only sign that gave proof that she was alive was the movement of her chest going up and down.

"Skye, can you hear me?" Deaton asked.

"Yes," she replied, her voice sounding like it was from very far away.

"Skye, what can you tell me about that night in the woods?"

"A woke up and a werewolf chased after me," Skye replied, voice clear, but thick with the hypnotic sleep she was under.

"And what happened before you woke up in the woods?"

"I don't know,"

"Try to think back," Deaton urged softly. "What happened before you woke up in the woods?"

Skye's brow creased and she didn't speak right away. "There was a car," she said, her voice extremely soft.

"What kind of car?" Deaton asked.

"Black, an SUV," she responded.

"What were you doing in the car?"

"Driving here. I was with someone. And…and there was blood. A lot of blood."

Deaton exchanged a look with Derek, looking just as troubled as Derek felt.

"Whose blood was it?' Deaton asked slowly.

"I don't know."

"Skye, whose blood was on the car?" the vet repeated.

"It wasn't on the car," Skye replied, eyes moving rapidly under her closed lids, like she was watching a slideshow with images that moved too fast. "It was on me."

Deaton frowned. "Skye, what happened before you woke up in the woods?" Deaton repeated his earlier question.

"I don't know," she half whimpered, shifting on the couch, her fingers twitching restlessly.

"Skye, what happened?" Deaton asked more forcefully.

Skye's body writhed on the couch, her feet digging into the cushions, hands clenching, trying to find purchase. Her head thrashed from side to side. She gasped suddenly, but her eyes didn't open, and Deaton quickly leapt up from his seat, counting down from ten again to wake her up. Derek hovered over Deaton's shoulder, watching Skye as her eyes slowly fluttered open.

"Skye, what did you see?" Deaton asked softly.

Her forehead had broken out in a light sheen of sweat, her cheeks bright with color. Her blue eyes looked scared, haunted by the images she'd seen in her head. She glanced at Deaton before her gaze flicked to Derek's face. He met her eyes, willing her to speak.

Skye swallowed, and when she spoke, Derek was surprised her heard her.

"I think I killed somebody."

-:-

So there's chapter 3! I hope you all enjoyed!

I guess I won't make any promises on when I will update next. I will try really, Really, REALLY hard to update within a week, but it might be two. I will try not to make it more than two weeks again. But we'll see. I'm off to college in about a month, so I'm kinda busy trying to pack and whatnot. So just be patient with me!

Please review! I really like hearing your feedback and your theories, so if you could just please leave a review, that would be amazing!

Thanks for reading!

-DaughterOfPoseidon333

P.S. Excuse any typos. It's late :)