EEEK! I came on and saw a ton of new followers and favorites! THANK YOU GUYS! I hope you're all enjoying the story!

This chapter has a bit of a cute moment for Charlie/Stiles, and since I'm sure a romance themed fanfiction is what caught most of your attention, I really hope you 1. see his/her conversation as believable for the Teen Wolf canon and 2. I hope you like seeing a certain side of the usually hard-faced, unemotional Charlie Hale!

Okay, well I only own my OC and I hope y'all like this chapter!

ENJOY! (and review if you want to!) xxx marahh

NINE: DO I WANNA KNOW?

"Derek!" I shook my older cousin violently, my usually calm façade completely dropped. "Come on! Wake up!"

His skin was the palest I had ever seen, and as I pushed my head against his chest, his shallow breathes we barely audible… even to me…

"Stiles," I turned frantically to face the kid staring helplessly back at me from outside the Jeep. "Find that key! Now!"

"Y-yeah… right," he hopped to it, tripping over himself as he began searching around the dumpster.

"Derek… come on you pain in the ass," I forced a laugh, jostling him some more, but my grim grin soon faded when he didn't respond. "STILES!"

"H-hold on!" I heard him shifting things around in the dark. "Just hold on!"

"Hurry up!" I barked urgently, turning back to Derek and as my heart pounded in my eardrums, I knew I had to do something.

Scanning the messy Jeep, I saw a silver guardian angel pin clipped to the passenger side mirror.

Taking a deep breath, I gritted my teeth and breathed: "Sorry, cousin, but I gotta do it…"

"I got it! I got it!" Stiles wielded the key with a proud grin, and as he rushed over to us, he caught my currently sizzling hand forcing the silver pendant against the unconscious Derek's cheek.

"AH!" he roared, hazy green eyes popping open and flashing blue.

Tossing the pendant back into the car, I myself was clutching my burned hand in agony, but all I could manage was a sigh of both relief and slight pain.

"Thought I lost you there," I breathed, watching my bubbling skin start to heal itself.

"What the Hell, Charlie?" Derek griped, going to touch his face, only to yelp out in more pain from his extremely discolored and bloodied arm.

"All right, big boy, let's get you inside," I ducked under his burly arm, helping him stand.

Glancing over at the somewhat shell-shocked Stiles merely staring at us, I then asked impatiently: "You waiting for an invitation?"

Immediately nodding, the pale boy with short brown hair took Derek's other side and we dragged his dead weight up to the front door.

Fumbling with the keys for a moment, Stilinski finally unlocked the animal clinic, propping the heavy doors open as I practically carried my limp older cousin inside.

"Almost there," I panted, allowing Stiles to lead the way down the dark corridor.

"In here," he called back, pushing open the swinging doors of the closest treatment room.

And as I finally got my older cousin propped up against the cold examination table, Stilinski's phone rang.

"Scott! Dude where are… what?" he asked, eyes watching me gingerly peel the blood and puss soaked leather jacket off Derek's trembling body.

"What's it called? Aconit napel bleu what ?" he struggled with the pronunciation of something as he continued their frantic conversation.

If I wasn't too busy listening to Derek's heart beat and slowly pumping blood I would have been able to hear what Scott was saying, but due to how distracted I was, I simply demanded over my shoulder: "What's he saying?"

"Does northern blue monkshood mean anything to you guys?" he raised his brows over at us.

Letting my head drop, I let out a heavy, frustrated sigh: "Shit…"

Did she really have to use that plant?

"What?" Stilinski's mouth was slightly opened as he watched me mopping up some of the purplish black liquid still oozing from Derek's pulsating arm.

"It's a rare form of wolfsbane," my cousin panted, his puffy red eyes becoming glassier by the second.

"He's gotta bring us that bullet," I ran a hand through my hair, mind racing.

How high of a dosage was in that bullet?

How much time did my cousin have left?

I needed to slow the poison down.

I needed to buy Scott more time to get back here… to buy Derek more time…

"W-why?" Stiles asked, watching me rushing around the room, looking through the drawers. .

"Cause I'm gonna die without it," Derek hissed, making a small part of me happy that he still had the energy to be rude.

Swallowing hard, Stiles then muttered back into the phone: "Ugh… cause he said he's gonna die without it…"

"Could you quit chatting with Scott and do something useful!" I shouted, slamming the steel desk shut.

Eyes wide, the panicked Stiles didn't utter a single word and just snapped the phone shut obediently, no doubt cutting off his best friend still rattling off useless questions.

"W-what should I get?" he looked around.

"Ice… and a tourniquet," a slightly swaying Derek rose from his spot in the corner, crashing against the table.

"Whoa, you need to keep the moving around to a minimum," I ran over to him, "You gotta keep your heart rate down."

"I… can't," he growled, eyes flashing blue again as he began to convulse some more in agony.

"Stiles! Ice! Tourniquet! Now!" I yelled watching my usually strong older cousin deteriorating to a barely recognizable person.

His body shook violently, lips blue and eyes sunken, and his arm was now almost a completely disgusting shade of purple, with swollen black veins rising from his skin.

And as I heard Stiles running about the entire animal clinic, I slipped off Greenberg's lacrosse jacket and threw it around my feverish older cousin's broad, shaking shoulders.

"What are you doing?" Derek grumbled as he white knuckled the edge of the table. "Who's is that? It stinks like high school d-bag…"

"You're a… high school d-bag," I gave my horrible come back, mind too preoccupied to come up with a more witty response.

"Really? Is that… the best you got?" he groaned in pain, but as I caught his bloodshot green eyes, we both smirked grimly at one another.

"Sorry… I'm just a bit busy trying to keep your stupid ass alive," I responded as Stiles slipped through the swinging doors holding a long piece of cloth between his teeth and large bucket of ice in his arms.

Grabbing the cloth from his mouth, I tied the material tightly around his bicep, making Derek hiss in pain.

Stepping forward, a disturbed Stiles bit his lip and cocked his head to the side, somewhat entranced by the gruesome sight of my cousin's arm: "You know… it… it doesn't really look like anything some Echinacea and a good night sleep couldn't take care of…"

Shooting the teen an irritated look, Derek opened his mouth to yell at Stilinski, only to suddenly bend over and spew black bile all over the floor.

"Holy God!" Stiles leapt back from the splatter, eyes wide. "What the Hell is that?"

"It's my body… it's trying to heal itself," Derek wiped his mouth as I shoved his arm into the bucket of ice.

"Well its not doing a very good job of it," Stiles cried, looking as if he, too, was about to get sick.

"Stiles, don't you dare!" I barked, filling up a small glass of water at the sink before rushing it over to my cousin. "I can't deal with two sick people right now…"

Trying to make Derek drink, my stubborn cousin pushed the beverage away and wheezed: "When the infection reaches my heart, it'll kill me…"

"Positivity just isn't in your vocabulary, is it?" Stiles weakly asked, still looking quite faint himself.

"Charlie," Derek looked me square in the eyes, "If Scott doesn't get back here… if he doesn't bring that bullet in time…"

I knew where he was going with this…

Hell, the moment he asked Stiles to get the tourniquet and ice, I understood what we had to do.

Nodding firmly, I spoke in dark agreement: "Last resort."

Fretful light brown eyes darting between my cousin and I, the completely lost teen asked, arms outstretched impatiently: "Which is?"

Green eyes lazily drifting to the overly energetic teenager, Derek then bluntly stated the harsh truth: "You're gonna cut off my arm."


"Oh my God!" Stiles stumbled backwards, flailing a bit as he did so, "No way. Make her do it," he pointed a trembling finger at me.

"I'm gonna have to hold him down… in case the pain makes him shift," I tried to sound calm, even though, I myself was just as freaked out about this as the human boy in front of me was.

"Which I will," Derek grimaced in pain from the poison some more, eyes flashing blue and thus proving my point.

"What if he bleeds to death?" Stilinski's voice cracked, and as my cousin's heart rate continued to slow down, Stiles' and mine picked up.

"It'll heal if it works," I tried to sound reassuring, but I could tell I looked simply terrified.

Shaking his head, the teen ran his hand over his short brown hair: "Look, I… I don't know if I can do this…"

"Why not?" Derek barked irascibly.

"Well, because of the cutting through the flesh, the sawing of the bone, and especially the blood!" he cried, bouncing a bit as he paced about the room.

"You faint at the sight of blood?" Derek scoffed, though his tone would have been a lot harsher had he not been on his literal deathbed.

Shooting my cousin a look, I knew this route would not going to get Stiles on board with the whole amputation plan.

"No! But I might as the sight of a chopped-off arm!" Stiles shot back, waving madly at Derek's throbbing purplish black limb.

"All right, fine. How about this?" Derek's voice was low and dangerous. "Either you cut off my arm, or I'm gonna cut off your head!"

"Derek," I spoke crossly, as my weak older cousin began coughing up some more black bodily fluids.

"Okay, you know what? I'm not buying your threats anymore so…" an irritated Stiles boldly called out my cousin, making him almost lunge across the table.

"Derek!" I yanked him back, glaring at him. "Do you wanna die?" I hissed in his ear, making his hateful glare focused on a currently timid Stiles subside.

Green eyes looking down sheepishly, I then muttered: "That's what I thought."

Grabbing the saw out of the drawer, I then slowly approached the absolutely petrified teenage boy.

"Stiles, you need to do this," I handed his shaking hands the electric power tool.

"But… I… I really think you should," he pled, looking down at me with an almost pathetically cute face.

"I need to make sure that he holds still and doesn't hurt you when he shifts," I spoke softly.

Blinking as my words registered in his mind, Stilinski handed me back the power tool, unable to look me in the eyes: "I get he's your cousin, but I… I honestly don't think I can do this…"

I felt bad.

Doing this would certainly scar the poor kid, but this was literally a matter of life or death.

Taking my hand, I gently wrapped his stiff, trembling fingers around the handle of the saw and looked up into those wide, light brown eyes.

"Stiles, you found out your best friend's a werewolf and stood by him. You didn't run when he tried to kill you in the locker room… you even came back and used a fricken fire extinguisher to save me," I chuckled a bit at the memory.

"I'm still here, you know… dying," Derek complained while Stiles cracked a small smirk as he looked down at me.

"Not fast enough," I shot back before turning to look at the still frightened boy standing before me.

"You're not a coward. You don't run away from things… you run to people… to help people in need," I stated, slowly releasing my hand, which was still placed around his; and sighing deeply, I allowed myself a moment of sincere vulnerability as I whispered, "And right now… he needs you… I need you…"

Clenching his jaw, the gawky teen looked down at my genuinely beseeching face and then to my grunting cousin.

Nodding jerkily, Stiles then rolled up his sleeves as he took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his nerves: "All right… I'll do it…"

Following him, I walked around, firmly planting myself between my cousin and the table, boxing him out.

Then, as I grabbed Derek's numb arm out of the bucket of ice, I held it down on the table as Stiles turned on the loud electric saw.

"I… I can do this," Stiles breathed, trying to convince himself as I felt Derek tense up behind me.

"Oh my God!" my older cousin roared in agony. "JUST DO IT!"

"OKAY!" Stiles yelled back, but when he saw me staring at him, I gave him a reassuring nod, making the tentative teenager sigh: "Here we go…"

And as I watched his face scrunch up in anticipation of the grizzly sight to come, I myself cringed.

Time seemed to freeze as the spinning blades hovered over my cousin's arm, and everything almost went silent.

Then, however, I heard it.

"Stiles! Charlie!" Scott's voice echoed.

"Turn it off," I pulled Derek's infected arm away in the nick of time, making the saw cut into the table a bit.

"What are you doing?" Stiles looked up in alarm, shutting the power tool off.

"What the Hell's going on?" Scott's voice made his best friend and my equally confused cousin look up in his direction.

Smiling broadly and tossing the power tool as far away from him as possible, Stiles laughed in relief: "Oh man, you just prevented a lifetime of nightmares…"

Sighing myself, I asked with a small grin: "Did you get it?"

Walking into the room, Scott pulled out the long bullet from an assault rifle.

"What are you gonna do with it?" the young werewolf asked, and as he was just about to hand it to me, a loud crash interrupted the transaction.

"Derek!" I shouted, diving down next to my passed out and convulsing cousin.

"No, no, no!" I heard Scott yell, causing me to turn and see that the bullet had fallen into a small drainage grate.

Shit.

This couldn't be happening.

We're so close!

"No!" I yelped, voice cracking as what little remaining color faded from Derek's foaming face. "Derek, come on!"

"I can't reach!" Scott grunted from his spot on the floor.

Kneeling down beside me, Stiles shook my cousin while I merely cradled his head, mind completely blank.

"Scott, what the Hell do we do?" the awkward teenager called, his brown eyes taking in my distraught face as tears began to well up in my eyes.

"Derek, please!" I shook his cold body. "SCOTT, GET THE BULLET!" my voice was cracking as I felt a few hot tears escape my eyes.

No. Not Derek, too…

"I can't… I can't reach…"

"Scott, he's not waking up, man," Stiles, tried to shake Derek some more. "I think he's dying…"

"He's not dying!" I barked, rage bubbling up inside me as I wiped the tears off my cheeks furiously. "Not tonight!"

Shoving Scott out of the way, I reached into the grate and tried to reach the bullet.

It was too far down, but I knew that my claws would definitely help me reach it.

If only my mind was clear enough to shift!

Dammit, Charlie, concentrate!

Clenching my eyes shut, I tried to ease my flustered mind, but when Stiles called over: "I think he's dead!" I ripped my hand out of the grate and grabbed Scott rather gruffly by the shirt collar.

"I need you to shift, but only halfway," I stated seriously, eyes darting over to a grossed out Stiles wiping the foam off Derek's open mouth.

"But… I can't… I don't know how," Scott stammered.

"Scott, make those pretty boy hands of yours turn into claws or I swear to God!" I yelled in his face.

Clearly triggering his temper, Scott's eyes flashed yellow as he pushed me out of the way.

Darting back over to Derek and Stiles, I began slapping my cousin's clammy face: "Dammit, Derek! Wake up!"

"I got it!" Scott excitedly ran over, holding up the bullet.

Pulling it from his hand, I made room on the floor and bit down on the round, pulling the shell out.

Dumping the poisoned gunpowder onto the tile floor, I demanded: "Get me my bag!"

Glancing around, Stiles obediently did so, never tearing his eyes of me as Scott asked: "What are you doing?"

"Lighter! Now!" I yelled, my heart racing as fast as my mind.

Come on, Derek, hold on just a little bit longer…

And as I stared at my cousin lying there, no longer breathing, I felt a lump growing in my throat.

"Here!" Stiles thrust the requested item into my face.

Taking it, I lit the powder on fire, making it spark up and smoke blue.

Ignoring how much holding this shit would hurt, I picked up the smoking ash, hissing in pain in the process, and then wiped it on Derek's infected arm.

Rubbing it in, I made sure to stick the sizzling powder into the actual bullet wound while Stiles gagged behind me.

And then, as I withdrew my hand, Derek's arm slowly regained its normal color.

"Holy shit," Scott mumbled, watching the black and purple veins go back into his arm, "You did it."

Smirking a bit, leaned over and wiped some of the sweat off my forehead.

"All right, cousin, rise and shine," I sighed, but when I realized that the color wasn't coming back in his pale face, I looked back up at the boys in confusion. "I don't get it… the poison's out of his system…"

Scott and Stiles then exchanged looks while I suddenly began to grow dizzy.

What was going on?

Was I too late?

Did I take too long?

Shoving my head against his chest, I listened.

Silence.

"No, Derek!" I shook him, eyes burning. "No! You can't tap out now!"

Glancing back up at Stiles and Scott with wide, tearful eyes, I shook my head, heart breaking: "He's not breathing… why isn't he breathing?"

"Charlie," Scott sadly tried to pull me away from my cousin.

"No!" I pushed him back.

He may have been ready to give up, but I wasn't…

"Charlie, I think it's too late," Scott seemed stunned as I slowly began to break down over the corpse of my older cousin and last remaining relative.

"Derek, please wake up!" I cried, tears rolling freely down my cheeks.

My heart ached.

How could this be happening?

No… this couldn't be real…

"Please don't kill me for this," I heard Stiles mutter, and as Scott and I looked up, we saw the gawky teen wind up and punch Derek straight in the face with all his might.

Green eyes popping open as he gasped for air, Stiles hopped about, shaking the pain out of his hand.

"Ow! Ow! Ugh, God!" Stilinski hissed, cradling his hand as Derek sat up, rubbing his smarting face and furiously staring at the teenager who had just decked him.

"What the…" Derek growled, but I cut him off by throwing myself onto him and hugging the walking muscle with all of my might.

At that point, I didn't give a shit who saw me.

Derek was dead… and now he wasn't…

I wasn't going to be alone in this world after all.

I still had a family. I still had Derek.

"That was awesome!" Stiles cried in prideful excitement, grinning broadly while Scott and I helped a sore Derek up to his feet.

Smiling the widest I had in a long time, I allowed some extra tears of joy to escape my eyes as I asked: "Are you okay?"

"Well, except of the agonizing pain," Derek spoke flatly, eyeing the overjoyed teen with a sharp look.

"I'm guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a good sign of health," Stilinski mused merrily, catching my very appreciative gaze.

Glaring at the flushed, giddy teenager, my cousin opened his mouth to say something, but Scott spoke up.

"Okay, so we saved your life… which means you're gonna leave us alone… got it?"

Glancing from Derek to Scott, I figured it was a pretty good deal, but my older cousin clearly had other ideas.

"And if I don't?" he shot back aggressively.

"Derek, come on," I tried to reason with him, but my words were ignored by all parties.

"If you don't then I'll tell Allison's dad everything," Scott was completely serious.

"You're gonna trust them? You really think they can help you?" my older cousin scoffed, and even I knew that telling Chris Argent was a horrible idea.

"He's right, Scott… they're hunters," I continued to try to play mediator.

"Can you blame me? They're a lot fricken nicer than him," Scott responded.

And as I opened my mouth to try to convince him to think about things a little more, Derek got into the young wolf's face.

"I can show you exactly how nice they are," his green eyes were furious, no doubt at being called worse than the Argents.

"Derek, he's all ready seen the house," I stated, arms folded.

"I'm not talking about the house," he stated darkly, never taking his eyes off McCall.

Not talking about the house?

Then what was he talking about?

"What do you mean?" Scott asked looking just as perplexed as I felt.

But rather than explaining anything, Derek merely turned to me and asked: "You really want to know what I've been keeping from you?"

And in that moment, I had the sinking feeling that I really didn't want to know anymore…


"What are we doing here? Who is he?" Scott McCall asked, chocolate brown eyes staring at the deformed burn victim sitting in a hospital bed.

Green eyes glancing back at my apprehensive face as I stood by the door with Stiles, Derek stated: "Peter Hale."

My stomach immediately knotted.

The moment Derek directed us to the Beacons Crossing Home, I knew that something was off.

Derek had obviously been sneaking off somewhere, but I always thought it was hunter or Alpha related, and as we sneaked through the dark hallways of the facility, I couldn't help but feel this dark, looming sensation of dread.

And now, standing from my spot in the shadowy corner and hearing those words come out of Derek's guilty mouth, I knew that my instincts were right.

Now, with the current conversation turning into a muffled, garbled, mess, time seemed to slow down.

My body was shaking as I pushed my way forward, ignoring Derek's probing green eyes and the voices of my two schoolmates, I stepped directly in front of the charred remains of the featureless John Doe.

Leaning forward, I examined his unrecognizable face masked by a mound of scar tissue.

My heartbeat was thumping against my ear-drums, and I could faintly hear Scott asking why Derek thought the Argents were responsible for the fire, but my cousin's reply sounded distorted and slowed down.

Could this really be him?

No, this shell of a man could not be Peter Hale.

He died in the fire, along with the other eleven members of my family that perished.

And as I stared at the eerily still man blankly staring out the window, I inaudibly breathed: "Peter?"

Eyes flitting immediately to meet mine, those cold, dark blue irises hit me like a massive punch in the gut.

I felt sick.

My stomach dropped as I literally tried not to the throw up right there and then.

"Charlie?" I heard Stiles' voice echo in my head.

I couldn't handle this.

I needed to leave.

Everything was spinning as I shoved through the three men now staring at me.

I stumbled down the hallway, ignoring the nurse shouting at me for trespassing.

Practically throwing myself into the cool, night air, I put my hands on my head as I hyperventilated.

I couldn't breathe.

Crashing against the wall, I slumped to the floor, gasping for air as a massive panic attack set in.

The man I hated for my entire life, the man that was literally the vilest creature I had ever come across, was alive.

My father was alive.


"So this is where you've been running off to?" I screamed, voice echoing throughout our ashen home.

"Charlie…" Derek tried to calm me down as I paced about the creaky floorboards.

"How long have you known?" I demanded, eyes full with tears of betrayal.

Pausing, my older cousin's green eyes looked away from my heartbroken gaze as he muttered: "Since we got back to Beacon Hills."

"And you didn't think I should know?" I cried, my mind still unable to fully comprehend the fact that my father was actually still alive.

"Would it have made a difference?" Derek asked, arms crossed as he leaned in the corner of our old home. "You hated him…"

"Well now, I hate you!" I shouted, glaring at him, my pulse racing as I tried to keep myself from shifting and murdering the lying son of a bitch right then and there.

"You're overreacting," Derek sighed, though I could see in his handsome face just how guilty he felt about keeping this from me.

"You can't think it's a coincidence that Peter's alive and some random Alpha is running around killing people?" I shot back, mind replaying all of the suspicious and violent outbursts he had whenever angered during my short stay at the Hale house.

"Have you seen him?" Derek retorted in exasperation, stepping forward: "You really think he's even able to shift?"

Staring back at his raised brows, I responded darkly: "The guy's been a selfish, lying prick for my entire life. I don't see him changing anytime soon…"

"That's probably true," Derek admitted, oddly enough, before continuing to argue with me: "But Peter's our family…"

"How quick you forget you used to hate him as much as I do," I snarled, "Wasn't he the reason you went away to school?"

My older cousin opened his mouth to respond, but soon lost his voice, unable to argue with my truthful words.

He and Peter used to fight incessantly, with verbal altercations oftentimes escalating to physical conflicts.

"I've put up with a lot of your shit," my anger was slowly subsiding as sorrow took over.

Derek had lied to me.

He had kept the fact that my father was alive, and no doubt disappeared and went to Peter for advice rather than coming to me…

Lump growing in my throat, my voice trembled: "The way you looked at me for years… like I didn't deserve to survive that fire… or how you'd come home drunk and take everything out on me?" my furious, tearful eyes watched a remorseful Derek look away.

"Charlie, I'm…"

"No, Derek!" I snapped, cutting him off, allowing a few tears to escape my eyes. "We've stood together through good times and bad times… and boy, let me tell you, most of them have been bad… I know I've messed up… cause I mean, you've never let me forget that night, but I thought we were in this together. I mean I literally almost died for you… and I used to think you'd do the same…"

"I would!" Derek spoke up passionately.

"How can you expect me to believe that after this?" I asked, voice cracking. "You always talk about loyalty to the pack, but where's that loyalty now, Derek?"

"Listen, I know I shouldn't have kept this from you, but Peter…"

"But Peter what?" I was shaking with rage.

How could Derek think he could just talk his way out of this?

Peter Hale left my mom and I, and then when my mom died and I was forced to move to Beacon Hills, he basically ignored me… calling me 'weak' for being a human.

"Do you suddenly feel some sort of allegiance to this guy?" I inquired, brows raised, hoping to God my cousin could wrap his mind around the idea that my father was a horrible person and deserved to rot in that hospital bed. "The man left me and my mom!"

"That was years ago!" my older cousin cried back in callous exasperation.

I wanted to smack him.

Sure he acted like he had no feelings, but how could he just brush off Peter's abandonment of me and my mother?

"Fine," I voice was low and dark as I stepped forward, looking up into his face. "How about the night of the fire? You never asked how I escaped…"

The moment those words left my lips, Derek became speechless.

The second he found me, huddled and whimpering in that hollowed out hole in the earth, my older cousin never once asked what happened.

He couldn't. Derek was simply unable to handle the fact that his entire family was gone, with me… some snot-nosed kid, being the only survivor…

He resented me for surviving.

He knew it, and I knew it.

And although we grew up and moved past that bitterness, it was never forgotten.

"Your mom… your mom got me out… not Peter… not my own father," my voiced quaked as my mind flashed back to that horrific evening.

"People change," he pathetically contradicted himself.

Glaring back at my older cousin with hatred, I shot back: "Clearly…"

And as he stared back at me, knowing full well that those words were meant to be a shot at him, I couldn't take it anymore.

I couldn't handle seeing that deceitful face looking back at me.

Turning on my heel, I stormed towards our front door.

"Where are you going?" he asked, following closely behind.

"Oh, so now you give a shit about what I do?" I snarled, glaring up at him as he slammed the door closed behind me.

"Oh, come on," he tried to get out, but I spoke over him.

"I figured after so many years of having to raise your little brat of a cousin you'd be happy to see me go," I yanked the door back open, glowering back up at Derek with an expression of pure loathing.

He had treated me like shit for most of my childhood, and now, after this betrayal… I couldn't take it anymore…

"Go where?" Derek followed me onto the rotted porch. "Charlie!"

Breathing deeply as I stepped onto our weedy, patchy lawn, I turned back around: "You know, if it weren't for Laura I'd be gone right now, but I made a promise to myself that I'd make her killer pay… and the arsons who burnt this place down," my arms were outstretched as I took in the barely standing structure that used to be the Hale mansion. "So I'll work with you… help you track the Alpha that you're just so damn sure isn't the one that killed Laura, and I'll even help bring down the Argents while I'm at it, but the second we're done, the second I kill every last person that wronged my family, I'm out."

"You know Omegas don't last long," Derek called after me as I began to walk down the driveway. "You need someone to watch your back!"

"Do I?" I spun around, scowling at my older cousin who was staring back at me somewhat pleadingly. "Cause the way I see it, I've been on my own for a very long time."

And then, turning, I walked off, breaking down in hysterical tears as I went.

I was alone.

First he put Scott's life above my own, and now, my only ally had chose to seek council from the most destructive man I had ever met.

Derek had turned his back on me.

So why was it so hard to turn my back on him?