How do you kill someone who never seems to want to stay dead?
This was the question that was plaguing Derek and Allison, as they sat across from one another in the basement of Isaac Lahey's abandoned house. (The location was chosen, because it was one of the few places that neither Peter Hale, nor the rest of the Argent clan, would likely come looking for them).
"Here, put this on," Derek said gruffly, tossing Allison a pair of navy shorts, and a red hooded sweatshirt, which he assumed belonged to Isaac.
Ever since the whole "licking incident," Derek was finding it more than a bit difficult to focus on the task at hand, particularly with a nearly nude Allison sitting so close to him. Having successfully tackled that "problem," he then found a larger pair of sweatpants (presumably the late Coach Lahey's) for himself.
Allison shivered involuntarily, as her eyes wandered over to the cooler, where Coach Lahey used to lock Isaac for hours at a time, for even the most minor of infractions. "I can't imagine a parent doing that to a child," Allison mused, knowing that Derek knew precisely to what she was referring. "I mean, I realize that my dad has some pretty . . . unique . . . ideas about parenting. But deep down, I know that he would never intentionally hurt me. Every kid should have that, I think . . . a person, or a place, that makes them feel safe."
Derek shook his head solemnly. "Not just kids. I think we all need that," he replied.
Allison looked thoughtfully at Derek, as if she was truly seeing him for the first time. "I think Isaac has that now with you. It's probably why he admires you so much. Your whole pack does, actually. I can see it in the way they look at you. You make them feel special . . . and wanted."
Derek was both surprised and oddly touched by Allison's words. Scott had often accused Derek of being selfish in his decision to turn Isaac, Erica and Boyd into werewolves. And, truth be told, he did have his own personal reasons for wanting to build a pack. But he also had other reasons for doing it that had nothing to do with him at all. Allison seemed to understand that instinctively, in a way that Derek wasn't sure anybody else could.
"What about you?" Derek asked, focusing intently on the grey dusty floor beneath him.
"What do you mean, what about me?" Allison inquired.
"Who makes you feel safe?"
Suddenly, Allison's neck and cheeks felt hot, and she wondered whether she was blushing. "I guess it used to be my dad. Then, it was Scott. Now? I don't know . . ." She replied wistfully.
Derek nodded. "Well . . . whatever . . . whoever . . . it is, I hope you find it again soon."
They stared at one another in silence for a few emotionally charged moments. Allison found herself so entranced by the intensity of Derek's gaze that she didn't even realize she had been holding her breath.
Get a grip, Allison. This man basically killed your mother! The young werewolf hunter chided herself.
Clearly, it was time for a change of subject . . .
"So, Dr. Deaton said Peter is weak now, right?" Allison asked abruptly, purposefully breaking the spell between them.
"That's right," Derek replied.
"And obviously he's not the Alpha any more . . . you are," she added matter-of-factly.
"Also, right."
"So, why don't you just turn into that gorilla-looking thing, and kill him?"
Derek glared at the brunette sitting across from him. "First of all, it's not a 'gorilla-looking thing,' it's a wolf."
"Could have fooled me," Allison muttered under her breath.
"Second of all, it's not that easy."
Allison leaned back on her elbows, awaiting an explanation.
Derek rose and walked toward a nearby window, so that his back was facing his inquisitor. "I can't do it," the Alpha muttered, sounding almost ashamed. "I can't change into that . . . thing."
"Why not?"
"A wolf's form reflects his true nature," Derek replied emotionlessly, as if reading a line out of a textbook.
Allison considered this for a moment. "But still, you're an Alpha. You should at least be able to . . ."
"I said I CAN'T," Derek growled, startling Allison, as he knocked a few hardcover books off the window ledge with an angry swipe. "End of discussion."
Except it wasn't the end. Allison rose and approached the werewolf, with her hands on her hips. "I bet I know why," she said smugly.
"Oh, please do enlighten me," Derek replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"It's the same reason Jackson freaks out at his own reflection, when he's the kanaima . . . vanity."
"I'm NOT vain," Derek grumbled.
Allison chuckled. "Oh really? How many hours a day do you have to work out to keep that flawless six-pack of yours?"
Derek rolled his eyes, and turned back toward the window. "You know, on second thought. I don't think this whole 'team work' thing is such a good idea. What do you say we go back to just trying to kill one another?"
Upon hearing this, Allison picked up a knife from a nearby table, and threw it directly at Derek's head. The Alpha wolf spun around and caught the blade, when it was just inches from penetrating the back of his skull.
"Oops," said Allison, with a sly smile.
"You knew I was going to catch that. You wouldn't have thrown it, if you didn't," Derek challenged.
Allison shrugged. "And you know the real reason why you can't change into that gorilla-looking thing."
"Touche," Derek replied, leaning his back against the wall.
"Come on, Derek. If it's not vanity, then what is it? In case you haven't noticed, it's kind of a matter of life or death here."
Derek sighed and stared at the ceiling. "You know, my Uncle Peter . . . before he became . . . who he is now . . . was actually a pretty good guy. I looked up to him. He taught me how to stand up for myself, back when I used to get picked on for being small and skinny. And when I first started . . . changing, it was Peter who taught me how to endure the pain of transformation. He helped me find my anchor . . . He kept me sane, and human. The Fire . . . it snuffed out everything that was good in him. And all that was left . . . I just . . ."
"You're afraid that, if you fully embrace being an Alpha, you'll end up like him," Allison concluded.
Derek said nothing, but the look he gave Allison told her she was right.
Allison hadn't yet told anyone about her hallucination. The memory of it just seemed too personal and painful to share, even with her closest friends. And yet, here she was revealing her deepest darkest secret to a man she was supposed to hate.
"That night that Peter came back to life, when Lydia spiked the punch with . . . whatever that was," the werewolf hunter began. "I had a vision that involved me shooting myself in the stomach with an arrow. . . except, it wasn't really me. I mean, it looked like me, and sounded like me, but it . . . I . . . was someone else."
"You were Kate," Derek replied, his voice sounding strangely far away.
"Yeah," was all Allison could say.
"You're nothing like her, you know," Derek offered, approaching Allison tentatively. "I mean, I guess you are a little bit like her. You both have a real talent for torturing me."
Allison smiled.
"But even when I thought I was in love with Kate, deep down, I knew she was incapable of loving anyone but herself. That's not you. You've got a good heart," Derek insisted, placing his hand gently on Allison's cheek, before he even realized what he was doing.
She could tell that he wanted to kiss her by the hungry, longing look in his eyes. And if she was being completely honest with herself, she wanted to kiss him back just as much. Screw it! You only live once, right? She thought, as she leaned in . . .
It was at that moment, that they heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Derek put his finger to his lips, as his eyes darted from side-to-side, on Werewolf High Alert.
"It's Erica and Boyd. I'd know their scent anywhere," he whispered.
"Should we . . ." Allison began.
"They can't know we're here. I don't want them to know about Peter," Derek explained.
"Why can't they know?"
"Because, if they know, they will want to help. And I can't let them. Peter has already caused too much bloodshed in this town. And the only blood I want on my hands right now is his. Come on," he insisted, grabbing Allison's arm, as he tugged her into a nearby closet, and quietly shut the door behind them.
It didn't take long for the Alpha wolf and the werewolf hunter to figure out what Boyd and Erica were doing in Isaac's basement, in the middle of the night. The grunts, groans, and amorous sighs gave the surprisingly feral couple away, in a heartbeat.
Allison stifled a laugh. "Holy crap," she whispered. "Your wolf cubs are getting busy . . . with one another. Forget bestiality, isn't that like incest?"
Derek groaned, cupping his hand over Allison's mouth to keep her from giving away their location. But the bodily contact between the two, coupled with the amorous sounds coming from just outside the door, made the closet feel about twenty degrees hotter than it was just moments earlier. And things were about to get even more heated . . .
"Do you have something?" Erica asked tentatively.
"Shoot! I left the bag back in the car. Just wait here, I'll go get it," Boyd promised.
"No, don't bother. I think Isaac's dad has a box in his closet, though the thought of him actually having used it makes me want to vomit."
"Well, don't do that. It will destroy the mood," Boyd joked.
Allison's eyes widened, when she saw the open box of prophylactics on the floor near her feet. She was just in the process of pointing them out to Derek, when the closet door opened . . .
Thinking fast, Derek wrapped his arms around Allison's waist and pulled her up against the wall of the closet, allowing the pair to be obscured by an obscene amount of unfashionable jackets and raincoats. As Erica sat on the floor leisurely sifting through the condom box for one that was "ribbed for her pleasure," Derek and Allison were anxiously holding their breath with their bodies pressed up against one another.
To feel this beautiful creature so close to him . . . to smell her intoxicating scent . . . to touch her soft skin . . . it was an exquisite agony that seemed almost too much for Derek to bear.
And then, just like that, it was over . . .
Erica closed the door to the closet. Shortly thereafter, the sound of departing footsteps told Derek and Allison that their intruders were heading upstairs (most likely to Isaac's bedroom to put Coach Lahey's condoms to use). The coast appeared to be clear . . . for now . . .
Derek thought Allison looked just the slightest bit reluctant, when she extricated herself from his protective embrace, and emerged from the darkness of the closet. "Well, that was close," she gasped.
"Yes, it was," Derek replied. In more ways than one. He added to himself.
"By the way," he added conversationally. "I think I've finally come up with a way to kill my uncle, and ensure that he doesn't just pop back up again, the next time he gets bored of being a corpse. The only problem is that it's going to require massive amounts of fire power, and some pretty powerful explosives . . . not exactly the kind of items one tends to have lying around the house."
Allison grinned. "Well, then, it's a good thing it's a good thing you've got an Argent on your side. Because, 'Firepower and Explosives' just so happens to be my middle name."