Hey, everyone! Thanks again for the alerts. And I would just like to say that you don't have to worry about a massive, totally theatrical love triangle in this story. There will be a little thing between Derek and Scott over Blair but nothing huge. This is mainly a Derek/OC. He's the one who gets the love ;)

Chapter Two
Third Person's Point of View

"You live here?" Blair asks when she and Derek arrive at the practically obliterated Hale house. From her position in the passenger seat of Derek's sleek, black Camaro, her curious gaze scrutinizes the house, which is colored like ash and destroyed in several areas. A place like this couldn't be habitable for anyone, could it? Even for a lone werewolf who evidently doesn't have many loved ones around, no one should have to live in these conditions.

Derek's jaw is set, uncomfortable with her question. "I'm not looking for your approval," is his caustic response. "After all, I'm not necessarily thrilled that I've suddenly turned into a babysitter for two irresponsible teenagers."

The new found anger Blair has adapted into herself starts to boil, and she scowls. "I wasn't judging you—I don't prejudge something about a person or situation I know nothing about," she says lowly. "And for the record, I'm not the child you so clearly believe I am. I'm nineteen, almost twenty. How old are you? Twenty-one, twenty-two?"

His silence is her answer.

"Exactly. So since we're going to be bunking together for who knows how long, I think we should be at least on some kind of common ground, don't you think?" she says without hesitation and only confident irritation. Before climbing out, she faces him and says, "And you're not my babysitter."

Once she's out of the car, Derek is taken aback by how boldly she stood up for herself, about how she didn't just take his rudeness like most people tend to do because they're usually afraid of what he might do. At this, he feels a smirk beginning to enlarge on his face, but he quickly compels himself to repress it, keeping his expression deliberately impassive.

The two of them saunter together towards the entrance of the house, Derek a few steps in front of Blair because of how long is strides are. Blair takes this moment to study him closer. He's breathtakingly attractive, that's for sure—a clearly very well-muscled body, sculpted and defined features, just the right amount of facial hair and, from when she saw them earlier, beautiful eyes. But even though she enjoys the whole brooding, I'm-better-than-everyone-else, bad body as much as the next girl, she can't help but be irritated by his attitude so far towards her. She didn't come here to be chastised by a condescending stranger (despite being a hot stranger) when she evidently has enough shit piled up on plate.

But then he turns to her now, with those stormy, light emerald eyes, and she sees all kinds of emotions locked up inside of those orbs. He must have gone through something—something worse than she is now, even if that's unlikely for her to believe. Pursing her lips, she mentally makes it a goal to figure out what that something is.

"So," she starts, "When can we start my training?"

He raises his eyebrows. "Training?"

"Yeah, like dueling, exercising, controlling my fury so it's unsurpassable." She begins stretching her body, cracks her knuckles, and then ridiculously installs herself in what is supposed to be a firm fighting stance, but looks more like she's an animal about to go to the bathroom. "But I've been a weak, non-athletic wimp my entire life, so be on easy on me at first."

Derek, for the first time in what feels like years for him, is amused—and not in a bitter, unsatisfying amusement he's been used to. This sensation is genuine, and it makes him feel lighter. Therefore this time he doesn't even attempt to stop his smirking. "So you're truly interested in learning, aren't you?"

"Completely."

"You're not going to back out of it gets too rough?" he interrogates, advancing towards her with his hands folded behind his back, his entertained eyes boring down at her. "If you break a nail, you're not going to run away screaming and crying?"

"Only if you promise to file them for me after," she retorts, unfazed by his endeavor to vex her. Daringly, she waves him forward with an unafraid grin. "Come on. Give me your best shot, Hale."

A spike of excitement peeks in Derek's chest, and he's suddenly centimeters away from her face, his hand wrapped around her neck—but not to the point where she's actually in pain. And even when his eyes flash an electric blue and she can feel the light sensation of claws as sharp as daggers scrapping slightly against her skin, she doesn't budge. Just continues to peer up at him with an arrogant simper attached to her lips. He's surprised, but more so curious, about her bravery.

"That all you got?" she whispers.

"Not even close," he whispers back. Before she can blink, he twists her around and pins her up against the door of the house, both of his hands now restraining her arms at either side of her body. His hot, even breath tickles the back of her neck, causing an involuntary shiver to travel up her spine. "I don't think you want to see what more I can do."

She turns her head as much as she can, angling her face so he can see her coquettish and provoking expression. "Try me," she dares.

He hesitates—and she knows it. That's how she's able to use one of her legs and knock him off his feet. Letting out an astonished grunt as he lands on the ground, Derek stares up at her with widened eyes, totally caught off guard. Was he really just beaten by her? Really?

"Shouldn't have hesitated," she says, and crouches down to get right in his face. "I'll be expecting more of a challenge next time. Meet you inside." With a wink, she saunters through the door, shutting it behind her.

Once Derek composes himself, he slowly gets back to his feet, brushing his shirt down and rolling his shoulders. Whatever just happened was something very foreign to him, and even though he won't admit it to himself, he enjoyed it as much as she did.

"You want to what?"

Derek's staring at Blair in a calm bafflement as she downs a bottle of water in merely ten seconds. The two of them had just finished one of their very strenuous training sessions, leaving both of them sweaty and sore—well, Blair more than Derek, considering she is the one actually being trained.

It's been almost two weeks since Blair showed up in Beacon Hills. Basically the whole length of time she's spent bettering herself as a werewolf, more determined than she's ever been for anything in her lifetime. Unlike he had thought at first, Derek doesn't mind taking the place as her helper, or "mentor" as she likes to call him. Truthfully, he sort of enjoys it. While Scott hardly ever listens to him, Blair does, following his advice and improving every day. In such a short period of time, she's become considerably stronger, more in control—and Derek is impressed. Sure, she's still got a lot to work on, and she and he, both having short-tempers, get into arguments quite often; however overall living with Derek has proved to be a great idea.

"I want to go to school," she repeats, using the bottom of her tank-top to wipe a line of sweat from her forehead. "I didn't stutter, did I?"

"No, but… Why?" he asks. "You already graduated."

"I'm not looking to go because I want a fulfilling high school career, Derek. There are three main reasons. One being I can look out for Scott and help them if something serious happens during school hours, and the second being simply because I want something else to do other than kick your ass every day."

He ignores her playful jab at him. "And the third?"

She suddenly turns grave. "I can create a new identity for myself," she says softly. "At least some sort of one. Maybe if I change my appearance a little and pretend to be two years younger, my Dad won't ever be able to find me." If he's even alive, she thinks.

Derek has never asked about what happened to Blair that made her want to leave her old life entirely and never look back, just like she hasn't asked him what happened to his house and where his family is. Scott and Stiles have tried to get it out of her, but she has made it clear that she isn't ready. Derek, understanding, has respected that. But that doesn't mean he isn't curious, especially since, despite him not necessarily liking that fact, he has grown a small soft spot for the girl. He does care for her, more so than he has for anyone in a long time.

Spending almost every second of every day with someone for two weeks will do that to a person, even if that said person is Derek Hale.

But he's made sure to keep himself consistently guarded, refusing to let his stubborn walls down for anyone. He can't let anyone in—he won't let that happen. Blair has noticed this about him, and it does bother her a little, but she can't really blame him when she finds herself doing the same exact thing.

After a few moments of contemplation, he says, "You really think no one would recognize you from when you used to live here?"

"Absolutely. It's been, like, six years and I wasn't especially popular anyway." She tugs her hair tie out, her voluminous red-hair cascading around her shoulders. "My entire life my hair has been a gigantic part of who I am; it's like the only characteristic of mine that stands out."

His eyebrows scrunch together. "Where are you going with this?"

She smirks. "Got some scissors?"

The next day, Blair is gazing in the only non-broken mirror in the Hale house. She doesn't see herself; she doesn't see the Blair Carter everyone knows and remembers. Some other girl is staring back at her, almost entirely different. Her hair now ends just above her shoulders, and it's not a fiery red anymore—it's a sleek, chestnut brunette. Stiles, per Blair's request, had purchased the contacts and brought it to them. He was in total favor of Blair going to school, looking forward to spending more time with his friend more frequently.

She has the urge to cry looking at her new self, because it just reminds her of how abruptly her life has changed and what she has lost. She doesn't, though; she hates crying. She hasn't since that first encounter with Scott, and she has vowed to make that was her last moment acting like a pathetic, emotional mess. Not only is she different on the outside, she's changed even drastically more on the inside.

There's a knock on the bathroom door. "Blair?" It's Scott. "You okay?"

Sighing, she diverts her eyes away from the unfamiliar reflection and opens the door. She smiles at him, strained. "Yeah," she promises. "I just look… different."

Looking at her now, Scott also sees a different person standing in front of him, but not because of her hair. Scott's noticed how much she's changed from the beginning—she's not the timid, clumsy sixth grader he fell in love with anymore. She's a new Blair, emotionally damaged by whatever has happened to her.

He's about to say something when he's interjected by a voice behind him, "It looks good." Derek's leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his broad chest, smiling ever so slightly her. "Fits you."

She grins. "Thank ya, Derek," she says, patting him on the cheek before turning to Scott, who can't help but be surprised and a little irritated by their friendly manner. "Ready?"

"As long as you are," he says. "We got everything situated."

When she spoke to Scott and Stiles about her plan to sneak her way into high school, Stiles instantly had an idea about how to pull it off. Blair would be an eighteen-year-old who's a senior because she was held back in elementary school. According to the school, she's living on her own, but is frequently checked in on by the McCall's because she's the daughter of one of Mellissa's old friends. For technical matters, if the school needed someone to act as one, Scott's mom offer parental services for her. But because she's eighteen, she doesn't need her real parents to be involved.

Somehow, Scott was able to convince Mellissa that we were doing this because Blair was going through a really hard time at home and never got to finish High School due to complications. She, being the kindhearted woman she's always been, promised to help out as much as she could as long as we were being careful. And that Blair visited her often.

It really did pan out perfectly.

Blair and Scott leave the house together. Stiles is parked outside, waiting for them. While Scott gets in the passenger's seat, Blair momentarily glances over her shoulder to find Derek watching them from one of the second-story windows. With a small smile, she lifts her hand in a wave. He just nods before disappearing from her view.

Taking a deep breath, she climbs into the back of the Jeep, and Stiles speeds off.