Hello all! As mentioned in the summary, this is a rewrite of my Derek/OC story titled Strange Happenings in Beacon Hills. I deleted the original, having taken too long a break and finding it needed to be fixed up. While most of the central plots from the original story remain intact, I've changed a few of the smaller things. If you read the original, Patricia is no longer a cheerleader. Her brothers are now Chase and Clark rather than Chris and Clark, because there were two, too many characters named "Chris" on the dance floor. Hopefully I remain happy with this revised version, because I think it has some potential. Hopefully.

Strange Happenings in Beacon Hills starts off at the first episode ("Wolf Moon") and will go all the way through the series finale. Some things will change along the way, but it'll mostly stick with canon. As stated in the description for the first chapter, the first eight chapters will be uploaded today as all I did was revise them, but the rest will come along as I work on different fanfics.

I only own Patricia and her family. The rest is Jeff Davis.

An aside: Her parents look like Jensen and Danneel Ackles (because I love them). Chase and Clark, the twin brothers, look like Dylan and Cole Sprouse (when they were in Just for Kicks). And Patricia looks like a 5'0" Skyler Samuels, starting from the Nine Lives of Chloe King and eventually moving into Scream Queens and The Gifted appearance territory. Visuals are important, after all.

I pull in front of the elementary school, smiling softly as Chase and Clark finish their arguments to kiss my cheek. "Stay safe. Be good!" I call after them. They just wave and go back to their argument. I watch as the walk with the other kids into the building, praying that Derek isn't vindictive enough to scent out my brothers and get revenge.

Sudden honking snaps me out of it.

"Okay! Okay! Damn!" I yell, waving out the window at the other cars before driving to the high school. Jackson's Porsche passes by me, and he speeds into his usual spot. Douchebag.

I park two cars down from him and slam the door closed. "What the hell, Whittemore?!"

"Aw, did I scratch that old rust bucket of yours?"

I growl and walk up to him, finger pointed into his chest. "Your parents may have money, but it ain't yours. Not really. So stop trying to act like you're better than the rest of the world."

He leans in and whispers, "Sweetie, I am better than the rest of the world." With that he walks away to join his Lacrosse buddies, leaving me to stew in my anger.

That son of a bitch.

"Yo, Ricky!" Stiles calls, and I turn to smile at him. It fades when I see the anxious Scott, who honestly looks like he didn't even sleep last night.

"Oh my God what happened?" I ask.

"Scotty here had a bad dream. Well, it started off as a good dream." I raise an eyebrow in confusion and look at Scott, who runs a hand through his floppy hair.

"Alright, so Allison and me-"

"And I." I correct, but he just makes a face.

"You weren't there." I roll my eyes with Stiles, and Scott continues. "We were at the school, kissing. Then we got onto the bus. I started wolfing out, and then there was a chase, and blood, and she was screaming."

"So you killed her?" Stiles asks, opening the door so we can enter the school.

"I don't know. I just woke up. And I was sweating like crazy, and I couldn't breathe. I've never had a dream where I woke up like that before."

"Really? I have. Usually it ends a little differently."

I scrunch my nose up at Stiles. "Disgusting."

"A) I meant I've never had a dream that felt that real. And B) never give me that much detail about you in bed again."

"Hear, hear." I agree with Scott.

"Noted. Let me take a guess here."

"No, I know, you think it has something to do with going out with Allison tomorrow." Scott interrupts. "Like I'm gonna lose control and rip her throat out."

"No, of course not." We both look at Stiles, incredulous. "Yeah, that's totally it." Scott breathes heavily. "Hey, come on, it's gonna be fine, all right? Personally, I think you're handling this pretty freakin' well."

"Totally." I agree, patting Scott's shoulder. "Besides, you've got Holmes and Watson to help you, Lestrade."

Stiles nods. "Yeah, it's not like there's a 'Lycanthropy for Beginners' class you can take."

"Yeah, not a class, but maybe a teacher."

"Who, Derek?" Stiles freaks out, stopping us in our tracks to briefly smack Scott up the head. "You forgetting the part where we got him tossed in jail?"

"Yeah, dude, we're lucky he hasn't gotten back at us. Violently." I add, grimacing. We keep walking.

"Yeah, I know! But chasing her, dragging her to the back of the bus, it felt so real."

"How real?"

"Like it actually happened." We walk out to the courtyard, and see the police standing around a ripped up school bus, blood spattered everywhere.

"I think it did." Stiles finally says.

Allison is fine. According to Scott, Jackson's locker is not. Evidently Scott lost control and banged on it, warping the metal completely and practically knocking it off its hinges. All anyone can talk about is the crime scene outside, and if it weren't for the fact I have AP Physics and AP Literature today I'd be focusing on that, too. But there ain't no rest for the wicked.

Not until lunch time, at least. While Scott and Stiles discuss the severely injured man that was found and wait on line for gross school lunch I follow them, leftover chinese food from last night in my hands. "But dreams aren't memories." Stiles argues, trying to convince our friend he didn't do whatever happened.

"Then it wasn't a dream, okay? Something happened last night." I sit next to Stiles, Scott across from him. "And I can't remember what."

"What do you have?" Stiles asks me, interested in the to-go container.

"Singapore noodles. And no, you can't have any."

Stiles huffs, then refocuses on Scott. "What makes you so sure that Derek even has all the answers?"

"Because. During the full moon he wasn't changed. He was in total control while I was running around in the middle of the night attacking some totally innocent guy."

"You don't know that."

"I don't not know it." He sighs. "I can't go out with Allison. I have to cancel."

"No, you're not canceling." We look at Stiles. "Okay? You can't just cancel your entire life."

"He's right." I grab Scott's hand. "We're gonna figure this out. Together."

"Figure what out?" We look up to see Lydia sitting in the seat beside Scott, setting down her tray.

"Just, uh, homework." Scott covers, throwing us a look. I remove my hand and smile at Lydia.

Stiles leans forward and whispers, "Why is she sitting with us?"

Suddenly a few of the players come over to our table, sitting with us. Scott moves his bag for Allison, who thanks him sweetly. Stiles awkwardly looks at Danny, who looks away.

"Get up." Jackson orders Brian.

"How come you never ask Danny to get up?"

"Because I don't stare at his girlfriend's coin slot." Brian huffs and moves, Jackson taking the seat as head of the table. I'm about to leave, not wanting to deal with his alpha male bullshit, but Stiles and Scott throw me begging looks so I remain - unhappily - seated.

"So I hear they're saying it's some type of animal attack." Danny brings up the man and the bus. "Probably a cougar."

"I heard mountain lion." Jackson objects.

"A cougar is a mountain lion." Lydia corrects her boyfriend, staring at her food. Realizing her mistake in showing her brilliance she looks at him with confusion, like every dumb girl in a teen movie. "Isn't it?"

I scoff under my breath, and wince at the glare she throws me. I return it with an air kiss, which she returns.

"Who cares? The guy's probably some homeless tweaker who's gonna die anyway."

"Wow, Jackson. You're a wonderful example of a human being." I tell him, completely unimpressed. Even Danny snorts, unaffected by the hurt look his best friend throws him.

"Actually I just found out who it is." Stiles announces, and I peer down at his phone. "Check it out."

He holds it out so the table can see, and everyone leans in. "The Sheriff's Department won't speculate on details of the incident, but confirmed the victim, Garrison Meyers, did survive the attack. Meyers was taken to a local hospital where he remains in critical condition."

"I know this guy." I look up at Scott, who continues. "When I used to take the bus, back when I lived with my dad. He was the driver."

"Can we talk about something slightly more fun, please." We all look at Lydia. "Like, oh, where are we going tomorrow night?" Allison looks confused, chewing at her lunch. Lydia looks at her. "You said you and Scott were hanging out tomorrow night, right?"

Scott looks at Allison, who is just as lost as he is. Swallowing, she turns to her friend. "Um, we were thinking of what we were gonna do."

"Well, I am not sitting home again watching Lacrosse videos, so if the four of us are hanging out, we are doing something fun."

"H-hanging out?" Scott asks Allison, who's busy drinking some water. She gives and awkward look and I shrug. "Like, the four of us? Do you wanna hang out, like us and them?"

"Yeah, I guess?" Allison shrugs, a cute look on her lost face. "Sounds fun." She smiles at Lydia.

"You know what else sounds fun?" I look over at Jackson, who's gripping his fork. "Stabbing myself in the face with this fork."

"So do it." I tell him with an innocent smile, Lydia unfortunately snatching the utensil from his hand. She gasps.

"How about bowling? You love to bowl." She suggests.

"Yeah, with actual competition." Jackson complains.

"How do you know we're not 'actual competition'?" Allison asks. "You can bowl, right?" She asks her boyfriend. Scott grimaces.

"Sort of."

"Is it 'sort of' or 'yes'?" Jackson asks, leaning forward with a smug look on his face.

"Yes. In fact, I'm a great bowler." I nearly choke on the last of my noodles, Allison quickly handing me an extra water bottle.

"God, so much testosterone." I crumple up the rest of my garbage. "Thanks Alli, well, I'm off."

"What, is it Senior Ditch Day already?" Jackson sasses.

I shake my head. "You know, you really aren't that funny. Or cool. But I am, because my last class of the day ended before lunch."

"You're not staying to study at the library?" Lydia asks as I get up.

I shake my head. "Nope. Bye, kiddos." I wave and throw my trash away, exiting the cafeteria and leaving that train wreck behind.

God, even with all this werewolf crap, I'm still so happy I'm a damn senior so I don't have to deal with all that underclassmen machismo.

"Scott, buddy, calling for some bowling tips?" I ask.

He snorts on the other end. "No. But I'm going to see Derek Hale, and I really don't want to go alone."

"So call Stiles."

"What, are you scared?"

I sigh. "No, I'm just in my pyjamas, watching One Tree Hill."

"Well, then you're not too busy to at least drive me?"

"Oh, so now I'm your chauffeur? Un-freakin'-believable."

Scott laughs. "Sorry. But you're the toughest person I know, even in your fluffy bunny pajamas." I groan, looking down at the bunnies on said pajama pants.

"Fine. But I'm not changing."

"Yes! See you in a few. I just have to see my mom." I hang up and groan, getting up to put on a sports bra and my Cyclones sweater - purchased for school spirit, of course - feet slipping into my bunny slippers.

Danneel Harris's character is just driving Haley and Nathan's limo over the bridge when Scott calls me, breathing heavily.

"Dude, how fast did you ride?"

"It's not that. I-I saw Mr. Meyers at the hospital. He was totally freaking out and then he grabbed onto me, like he wanted me to save him!"

"But you thought you did that to him?"

"Yeah, which is why I'm freaked out and confused."

"Okay, okay, I'm heading down now." I close my computer and shut my bedroom lights, walking downstairs. My dad's watching TV, Chase and Clark doing their homework in front of him.

"Where are you off to like that, kid?" My dad asks, assessing my outfit.

I laugh. "Out to hang with Scott."

"Alright. Remember, there's a curfew tonight."

"Okay!" I shout, closing and locking the door behind me. Scott rushes over, pulling my smaller form into a hug. "Man, Mr. Meyers really scared you, huh?"

"Yeah. We have to see Derek. Where do you think he'll be?"

I sigh. "Most likely the Hale House. He wouldn't want to stray to far from his den."

"Den?"

"Wolf behavior, hon." I tell him, opening my trunk. "Come on, load in your bike." With some adjustment we manage to fit it in, and I lock it up before climbing into the Impala.

"You trying to impress someone?" Scott asks, breaking the tense silence as we make the drive to the Preserve. I start laughing uncontrollably, and he joins in.

"Our lives are ridiculous."

"Tell me about it. I'm a werewolf, and we're about to ask Derek Hale for help. After we got him arrested. And dug up the remains of his dead sister."

"And you have a girlfriend."

"I have a girlfriend. And you're actually single for once."

I laugh some more, hitting his shoulder. "Well, after the last guy I realized I can wait until college."

"Greenberg." Scott snorts, and I drive through the clearing towards the Hale house.

"No bringing up Greenberg. I was going through an identity crisis." He guffaws, but it dies down when I park the car. He gets out first, and I awkwardly follow him, closing my door.

"I know you can hear me." Scott finally says, staring up at the house. "I need your help."

I take his arm and lead him up to the front porch, the two of us standing in front of the door as it starts to drizzle. The door opens, and out steps a somewhat impatient Derek, rocking the leather jacket.

"Okay. I know we were a part of you getting arrested and that we basically announced you being here to the hunters -"

"We also don't know what happened to your sister, but I'm betting it wasn't you." I finish for him, getting a look from Derek. He glances over me then snorts, a little meanly.

"You know wolves eat rabbits, right?"

I shrug. "I'm tougher than I look."

"Yeah, I bet you are." Scott nudges me and gives me a look, so I stop staring at the incredibly attractive werewolf and instead focus on the puppy next to me.

"I think I did something last night." Scott admits. "I had a dream about… someone. But someone else got hurt. And it turns out that part of the dream might have actually happened."

"You think you attacked the driver?" Derek asks.

"Did you see what I did last night?"

"No."

"Can you at least tell me the truth?" Scott asks. "Am I gonna hurt someone?"

Derek sighs. "Yes."

"Could I kill someone?"

"Yes."

"Am I gonna kill someone?"

"Probably."

I frown up at him. "God, why are you so pessimistic? You don't even know Scott!"

"No." He growls at me. "But I know werewolves. Sooner or later, someone you love gets hurt, and in the end, you're the one who caused it."

Something in his green eyes tells me what he knows goes beyond the deaths of his sister and most of his family. I almost want to ask, but considering we did just get him arrested I back off. "Fine." I mutter, stepping back a little.

Derek walks up to Scott, looking less menacing. "Look, I can show you how to remember. I can show you how to control the shift, even on a full moon. But it's not gonna come for free."

"What do you want?"

"You'll find out. But for now, I'm gonna give you what you want. Go back to the bus. Go inside. See it, feel it. Let your senses - your sight, smell, touch - let them remember for you."

"That's it? Just-just go back?" Scott asks.

"Do you want to know what happened?"

"I just want to know if I hurt him."

But Derek seems to be pretty good at sniffing out bullshit. "No, you don't. You want to know if you'll hurt her. And Stiles. And Patricia." He looks at me, green eyes narrowed. "And he will. And you won't be able to defend yourself in time."

I narrow my blue eyes and walk up to him, unintimidated by the fact he's a foot taller than me. "I'm made of more than you think. I may not be a werewolf, but I am a fighter." With that I turn around, pulling Scott with me.

"You know, maybe you'd be more scary if you weren't wearing pyjamas." Scott balks at the glare at my face and gets in the Impala. I turn to glare up at Derek, who only nods before entering his ruined home.

That night I sit in the backseat of Stiles's Jeep, the boys in the front. Of course, I swapped my bunny slippers and fluffy pajama bottoms for my heeled ankle boots and a pair of flexible jeans.

We pull up to the school, the giant gates closed and locked up. We get out and follow Scott, who stops us. "Hey, no, just me. Someone needs to keep watch."

Stiles frowns. "How come we're always the guys keeping watch?"

"Because Pat does what she wants and there's only the two of us left." Scott argues with Stiles, and I roll my eyes in favor of climbing the fence, reaching the other side in record time. Thank goodness for those gymnastics classes my mom made me take. For nearly 12 years. My muscles groan in pain just at the memory of Coach Adams. She was a real tyrant.

"Okay, why is it starting to feel like you're Batman and I'm Robin while Ricky prances around as the super hot and useful Wonder Woman? I don't want to be Robin all the time." Stiles gripes, breaking me from my thoughts.

"Nobody's Batman and Robin any of the time!" Scott argues once more, irritated.

"Notice how you didn't say there's no Wonder Woman? That's just rude." I growl at Stiles. "Sorry. But come on, not even some of the time?"

"Just stay here." Scott orders.

"Oh my God! Fine!" Stiles grumbles to himself and walks away from the fence and I wait for Scott to join me. As soon as he does I hand him a pair of latex gloves, sliding on mine as well.

"What's with these?" He asks.

I shrug. "My dad said they may revisit the crime scene. It'd be pretty suspicious if they found our prints."

"Good thinking, as always. And thank you, for coming with me to see Derek. Even in your fluffy clothes."

"Whatever. What are friends for?"

Scott nods, then closes his eyes. I wait for him to open them, and when he does he looks pained. "I heard something howling. I woke up, wolfed out."

"Okay. What happened next?"

He leads me towards the bus, hand pressed against the glass door. He jumps back, seeing something that isn't there. Then he pushes the door so it opens, letting the two of us in. He walks ahead, looking down, his nose sniffing out clues. I close the door behind us, and he looks back at me. "The bus driver was here. He's reaching out for me. But something else is pulling him away."

"So you were watching?"

"I think." He turns back around and walks forwards, hands clasping onto the seats. He stares at a row covered in blood and flinches back, covering his head with his arms. "Som-someone threw something at me." He reaches down, hearing sounds that aren't there, then stumbles back, clutching his chest. He looks at his hands in horror before turning back to me. "It wasn't me." Before he can respond Stiles honks. Noticing approaching lights Scott and I dash out of the bus and towards the Jeep. I screech as Scott grabs me as if I'm a feather and practically leaps over the fence, landing with me bridal style in his arms. He puts me down and we run to the car, quickly climbing in.

"Did it work?" Stiles asks, panicking as he drives away. "Did you remember?"

"Yeah, I was there last night. And the blood. A lot of it was mine." I wince.

"So you did attack him?" Stiles asks.

"No!" Scott objects, confident. "I-I saw glowing eyes in the bus, but they weren't mine. It was Derek."

"Derek?" I ask. "Are you sure? Why would he tell you to come check if it was him?"

"I don't know."

"What about the driver?" Stiles asks.

"I think I was actually trying to protect him."

"Which is why he reached for you at the hospital." I guess, patting his shoulder.

"I'm with Ricky. Why would Derek want you to remember that he attacked the driver?"

"That's what I don't get!"

"It's got to be a pack thing."

"What do you mean?"

"Like and initiation. You do the kill together."

I shake my head. "No, there has to be more to that. Why target a complete stranger to get loyalty? Wouldn't Derek have gone after one of us? Make Scott kill one of his friends?"

"Right. Because ripping out someone's throat is a real bonding experience?" Scott sasses Stiles.

Our driver just shakes his head. "Yeah, but you didn't do it. Which means you're not a killer. And it also means that…"

"I can go out with Allison."

Stiles and I look at Scott incredulously. The former just sighs. "I was gonna say it means you won't kill us. You know, me and Ricky?"

"Oh, yeah. That too."

"Boys." I mutter, ripping off my gloves and leaning back in my seat, eyes closed.

The next day I find myself lying on my bed, arms crossed in thought as I stare up at the ceiling, only to be interrupted by my stomach growling. My dad is working the night shift, and my mom just left to attend a conference in San Francisco. The twins are at their friend's house for a sleepover, which means I get the house all to myself. So, with the realization that there's no more junk food in my not-so-secret stash, I get dressed. Needing gas for my car anyway, I drive to the gas station and fill her up, then drive into the empty lot and get out, walking into the little convenience store attached.

Paul waves at me before returning to his phone, and I browse the shelves for some original Pringles, salt and vinegar chips, cherry Coke, and a bag of Hershey's kisses. After paying the unenthused Paul, I make for the door. But I stop when I see a familiar Camaro pull in to the service station. Derek gets out, filling his car up. Suddenly two cars pull in, essentially trapping him. I watch as Allison's dad - Chris, as he told me to call him - gets out, joined by who I'm guessing are his hunters. I quietly sneak out and find a decent hiding place to film what's going on. There's complete silence as Derek removes the gas pump and puts it back in the slot.

"Nice ride." I hear Chris Argent say, and he's loud enough that my phone picks it up. He must be confident no one else is here. "Black cars, though. Very hard to keep clean." His voice, while calm, exudes an underlying threat. "I would definitely suggest a little more maintenance." He wipes at a spot on the hood of the car.

Chris leans down for the Squeegee in a bucket, pulling it out. I duck down a bit to remain unseen, but make sure my camera is still recording. "If you have something this nice, you want to take care of it, right?" He starts to clean the car. "Personally, I'm very protective of the things I love. But that's something I learned from my family. And you don't have much of that these days." He turns to assess the werewolf. "Do you?" He asks. From here I can see Derek clenching his fists in anger, before relaxing. "There we go." He returns the Squeegee. "You can actually look through your windshield now. See how that makes everything so much clearer."

He starts to walk away, but Derek stops him. "You forgot to check the oil." Chris turns, a smug look on his face.

"Check the man's oil." His lackey does what he asks, hitting the window over and over with the butt of a heavy-duty gun until the driver's side is covered in glass. "Have a nice night." Chris makes for his car, but I stop the video and run forward.

"Hey!" I yell, and the men all turn to see me, a small blonde with fury in her eyes. Chris Argent looks nervous, but he covers it up.

"Oh, good evening, Patricia. I want to thank you again, for really welcoming Allison."

I smile. "Yes, your daughter is amazingly kind. Unfortunately, I see she doesn't exactly get it from you."

"What do you mean?" He asks, playing stupid.

I don't fall for it, walking up to him and crossing my arms. I raise an eyebrow. "I'm sure you don't know that my mother is Marissa Abernathy, the Hale family lawyer. Now, she's currently away on business, but she'd be interested to hear that you and your little band of Merry Men assaulted her client and caused damage to his vehicle. I can send her this video of you bothering him." I press play, and listen to the recording, the man's face growing slightly worried. "Or you can pay upfront. $1000 should do, for the cost of the new window and trauma." The hunters stare at me in anger, clearly mad that they were caught.

"And if I don't?" Chris Argent asks.

I shrug. "Well, then Allison finds out what her dad thinks he can get away with. And I'm guessing you don't want her to know about… well, any of this mess. Do you?" I raise an eyebrow, waiting. Argent just frowns, before reaching into his wallet and pulling out the money. I hold out my hand and he gives it to me. I count out the amount I demanded and smile innocently, just like my mom does when my dad folds and lets her choose the movie for Family Night. Or like Stiles does, after he's found a way to extort his father. Those two are my greatest teachers in the art of getting your way. "Thank you, Chris. Have a good night." They get in the car and drive away, and I turn to the confused Derek.

"Uh, why did you do that?" He asks.

I shrug, and hand him the money. "Maybe I still feel bad for getting you arrested." He takes the bills and I sigh. "Listen, you should call the garage to get this fixed. I'll drive you back."

"Are you sure you want to get in a car with a murderer?" I look up at him, searching his eyes.

"I don't think you're a murderer. I just think you're misunderstood, that's all. Of course, I could be wrong, so let's just call this a truce." I step back. "I'll call them. You go wait by my car. Unless you're scared of a girl half your height?" He just snorts and walks away, giving me one last confused glance. I just go through my contacts and press on Armor Tire and Service Center. As it rings I lift it to my ear, watching the werewolf awkwardly stand by my Impala. "Hi, I'm going to need a pick for a Chevy Camaro 2010 model at the Beacon Hills Gas Station. You know, it's the damnedest thing. The driver side window was smashed in. Ruffians, am I right?"

We watch as the Armor Tire tow truck drives away, taking Derek's Camaro with it. I turn to the older man and unlock my Impala. "Well, get in. There's a curfew, you know." Surprisingly he does as I ask, and softly closes the door behind him.

"I need you to take me to the Hospital."

"So you can check on the driver you killed?" He tenses, hands balling up into fists. "Don't worry. I don't think you did it. I mean, Stiles is under the impression that was your way of initiating Scott as a werewolf. But come on, why would you have Scott revisit the scene of the crime if you're guilty? And why not have him kill us?"

He relaxes his hands as I drive. "You're perceptive, for a human."

"Thanks. And you're quiet, for a werewolf." He scowls at me. "I'll take you to the hospital if you promise not to hurt the driver. And I'll take you home after. Deal?"

"Why?" He asks, green eyes searching my blue eyes for an answer.

I shrug. "I don't know. But I have this strange feeling that you're lonely, and I'm the only one around offering to be your friend."

"You want to be friends with a murderer?"

I smirk at him. "Could come in handy if I ever want someone taken care of."

There's silence as the drive continues, and I pull into the parking lot of the hospital. Derek gets out without saying a word and I open my bag of chips.

I've barely eaten half when Derek returns, lost in thought as he closes the door behind him and puts on his seatbelt. "Derek?" I ask.

He looks at me. "The driver. He knew me. He knew my name. He said 'I'm sorry'. Then he died." I blink back at him, just as confused. Then I pull out of the lot.

"We'll figure it out."

"'We'?" He asks.

I look at him. "Of course. I'm basically Sherlock Holmes. Just, not a sociopath. I think."

He snorts, and I feel him staring at me as I drive towards the Preserve.

I park in front of his house and get out, grabbing my snacks. He tosses me a look and I shrug. "Listen, I was going to go home, eat crap food, and watch TV. I can still eat crap food, but now we have a problem to solve. And it's cold outside."

"It's not much better inside." Derek points out, opening the front door and leading me in, closing it behind us. I look around the burnt shell of the house, and Derek frowns. "I can smell your pity."

"It isn't pity." I shake my head. "I just… no one should've gone through what you did. And I'm sorry we made it worse."

He nods, accepting my apology and leads me up the stairs, into the remains of a bedroom. Probably his. He sets down a smudged blanket and I sit across from him, chips, drink, and chocolates in front of us. "Oh, I forgot to ask. Werewolves can still eat chocolate, right?"

He rolls his eyes and unwraps a kiss, popping it in his mouth. "Dog jokes. Hilarious."

"I thought so." I laugh, and take a sip of my cherry Coke. "So, the driver knew you. Have you ever seen him before?"

"I don't think so." He shakes his head.

I sigh, biting my lip. "Did you recognize his scent?"

"Faintly, but I probably got it off of Scott."

There's silence, then I tilt my head. "I'm just curious. Why did you bite Scott?"

He gives me a look. "I didn't. I can't. I'm not an alpha."

"And only alphas can give the bite?"

"Yes."

I blink. "Oh. Okay, wait, that makes sense. There's an alpha running around the woods of Beacon Hills. It comes across Scott, and bites him. Scott becomes a werewolf. The rogue alpha clearly has no problem with killing." I look up at Derek. "But you already knew that. And you think this alpha killed Laura, don't you?"

He tenses at his sister's name, and frowns at me. "Maybe. It could've been a hunter."

"Except there were bite marks on her legs." I blush when he looks at me. "Scott and I maybe paid a visit to the morgue." He rolls his eyes. I clear my throat. "Sorry. Um, anyway, I'm pretty sure hunter's don't bite. So the alpha killed Laura, and you're trying to find him."

"Yes."

"Woah." I munch on a couple of pringles. "That's some serious stuff right there." I wipe my hands together. "Ok, enough on that. I need to do a different type of detective work. It'll help me figure you out."

Derek sighs. "Fine. What do you want to know?"

"When were you born? How old are you?"

"Christmas, 1990. I'm 20, almost 21."

I tilt my head, surprised. "Wow. You look a lot older than that. But you're a Capricorn, which makes sense considering your pessimistic vibe."

"Astrology isn't real." He grumbles, though he does look a little amused.

"And yet, we live in a world where werewolves do." He actually laughs, and I grin when I see his dimples. "So, you're a Christmas baby. Well, I was born September 31, 1993, and I'm almost 18."

"You're a Leo, then."

I raise an eyebrow. "So you do know astrology?"

"I know it well enough to know it's not real. Stars don't tell you who you are."

"No, but they can guide us." I gently tell him, then tuck some blonde hair behind my ears and take another sip of my drink. "Oh, um, what's your favorite color?"

"This helps you how?"

"Oh, it doesn't, I just want to learn more about you."

He nods. "Black."

"No it isn't." I shake my head.

"Fine. It's gold." He looks away, briefly, a little sad.

"I prefer blue." I shrug, and he blinks at me. "It reminds me of water, and clear skies."

"You're a strange girl."

"And you're an even stranger guy."

"Thank you." I look up from where I'm unwrapping another kiss. "For what you did at the gas station. I didn't realize your mom's Marissa."

"I didn't know that she was your family's lawyer." I respond, shifting around. "But I'm glad she is. Do you know her?"

"I met her a few times, when I was younger. She would hang out with my mom."

I smile, thinking back. "I remember. Talia. I think I met her a few times when I was out with my mom. She seemed nice, but stern." I look at him. "She reminded me of my mom."

Derek smiles sadly, staring off into the distance. "She was. And she was fierce, and smart. She was the leader of our pack, and now that's all gone. I'm the only one left. Well, who can do anything."

"Your uncle, right? He's still healing?"

Derek nods. "Yeah."

"How did the fire happen?" Before he can answer, his whole body shifts, ears twitching. "What's wrong?"

"Scott's here. He's angry." Derek turns to me and helps me stand, larger hands clutching mine. "You need to keep your distance."

"You aren't going to hurt me."

Derek shakes his head. "No, I won't."

Before I can question him, I hear my best friend yell, "Derek! I know you're here! And I know you have Patty! I know what you did!"

Derek lets go of me, tensing. "I didn't do anything." His voice echoes through the house.

"You killed him!"

"He died." Derek's body gets tenser, and I reach out to rest my hand on his back, but stop myself. I hear Scott start walking up the stairs.

"Like your sister died?"

"My sister was missing. I came here looking for her."

"You found her."

"In pieces!" Derek yells, and I press my hand on his back, feeling his whole body trembling. "Being used as bait to catch me!"

"I think you killed them both. I'm gonna tell everyone, starting with the Sheriff. And Patty's dad is going to hear that you took her."

"Scott! He didn't take me!" I yell, hoping to put an end to the situation. "He didn't kill anyone!"

But it's too late. Derek storms out of the room and pushes Scott down the stairs. I run after him and see my best friend groaning on the ground as the Hale jumps down to face off against the wolfed-out Scott. My best friend throws Derek through a wall and I run down the steps, bounding past him to help Derek up. The werewolf just presses past me, rolling his shoulders back as he takes off his leather jacket, which I pick up as I walk towards the hole in the wall.

"That was cute." He comments, rolling his neck and shifting. He turns to me, eyes glowing blue and thick eyebrows gone, his ears slightly pointed. He lets out his own primal roar. Scott runs to him and suddenly they're throwing each other around the room, crashing around the ruins of the living room while I move out of the way, running towards the front door. I make to leave, but realize I can't. I don't have it in me to leave them behind, especially not Scott. He wouldn't leave me.

I turn back around and watch Derek throw Scott over what looks like an old chest. When Scott tries to attack he punches him in the gut. My best friend groans, stumbling back, and I rush forward to catch him and carefully sit him down. Derek shifts back and turns to look at us, panting. Scott groans by my side but looks back at him, no longer wolfed-out.

"I didn't kill him. Neither of us did!" Derek tries to explain once more. "It's not your fault, and it's not mine."

"This?" Scott asks, yelling. "This is all your fault!" He gets up to scream in Derek's face. "You ruined my life!"

"No, I didn't." Derek grits out.

"You're the one who bit me!"

"No, I'm not."

"What?!"

I stand. "It's true, Scott." Scott turns to me, calming down a bit before looking at Derek.

He leans forward. "I'm not the one that bit you."

Scott then touches the blood on his chest, clearly remembering something. He eventually settles down on the remains of a couch. "There's another."

Derek nods. "It's called an alpha. It's the most dangerous of our kind. You and I, we're betas. This thing is more powerful, more animal than either of us. My sister came her looking for him. Now I'm trying to find him. But I don't think I can do it without you."

"Why me?" Scott asks.

"Because he's the one that bit you. You're part of his pack. It's you, Scott. You're the one he wants."