Chapter 10 – My Fineness Is So Very Fine.

Oh, you're on the run and I'm chasing you,
Feels like war with all your glances.
I'm just a boy without a clue,
And I can't control following you.

Alright With Me / Kris Allen

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or Buffy The Vampire Slayer, nor do I earn any form of profit from this work of fiction.

That night, I couldn't sleep.

My mind was constantly bombarded with images of Derek's life-less body – regardless of the fact that the man himself was only sleeping down the hall from me. Someone apparently hadn't informed my subconscious of his very much alive status. Despite this, every time I closed my eyes I was presented with a morbid carousel of what-if scenarios. What if I hadn't been close enough to the parking lot to hear the commotion Derek had caused? What if Scott hadn't been able to find the bullet? What if the Argent's had discovered what Scott was doing and decided to make Allison's initiation into the family business killing her werewolf boyfriend? What if I had cut off Derek's arm and that hadn't worked?

As I made my way downstairs to the kitchen, deciding that if I wasn't going to get any sleep I may as well be doing something, I was reminded of a similar situation that had occurred back in Sunnydale.

"Gotta say, sleep-bakin's a first."

I jumped, barely managing to keep all of the chocolate-chip cookies on the piping hot tray in my hands. Taking a moment before turning around, I mouthed 'oh my freaking God' to the stove-top while attempting to slow my racing heartbeat and ignore the amused vampire in Buffy's kitchen.

"Where's the Little Bit? Aren't you two stuck at the hip nowadays?"

The British vampire had draped himself bonelessly against the door-way as he regarded me curiously, his scarred brow raised in what I could only assume was glee at managing to surprise me.

"Isn't it almost your bedtime, Spike?" I remarked flippantly as I placed the tray on the counter-top with forced casualness, hoping he wouldn't notice how my hands were shaking.

His answering smirk told me that he quite clearly saw through my act. Must be handy, hearing heart-beats, always knowing when someone's lying to you.

"Oh, baby-Slayer's got bite," He teased, curling his tongue behind his teeth in what I could only describe as a leer. "But you still didn't answer my question."

"Dawn's still asleep," I said as I slid the cookies onto a rack to cool and started spooning more dough onto the tray.

"And turning the Summers' kitchen into a bakery? You've got enough biscuit's to feed a small army, I reckon." Spike moved forward, his black leather duster swaying around him like he had made it from the shadows he had just stepped out from. Keeping his ice-blue eyes locked on mine, he snatched a cookie off the cooling rack, as though daring me to stop him.

"I couldn't sleep," I admitted. "And baking calms me down. It was this or start cleaning."

Settling himself down on one of the stools he regarded me thoughtfully across the counter, his eyes appearing even brighter in the artificial kitchen light, as he chewed the cookie in his hand. Ignoring him, I continued laying out the new tray of cookies, pressing down on each ball of dough with a fork . Spike let me work in silence until I'd slid the tray into the oven and closed the door.

"So then, baby-Slayer, what's turned you into a teenaged Martha Stewart?"

I eyed him suspiciously from where I leaned against the counter behind me, crossing my arms across my chest. I couldn't figure out what Spike was playing at, why would a 100+ years old vampire care what was keeping me up at night? I knew he and Dawn had a close relationship, not to mention the gossip I had heard surrounding him and Buffy. But me? He'd only known me all of two weeks, and this was the longest he had ever spoken to me, specifically.

In the end, I decided to be blunt, "Why do you care?"

"Who said I did?" He shrugged. "But the Little Bit has taken a shine to you. And I like you – you've got that same spark the Slayer did when I first met her. Plus," He added, snatching up another cookie. "You make a bloody good biscuit."

I narrowed my eyes at him as a thought came to mind, lunging suddenly across the counter to stab my finger into his shoulder. As my finger met with buttery leather and cold unyielding flesh I moved back, feeling confused but a warmth spread through my chest at his words regardless.

"Oi!" Spike rubbed at the wounded area and gazed at me balefully. "What the bloody hell was that for?"

"Just checking you weren't The First," I explained, despite my words being even I'd still automatically wrapped my arms around my middle in response to his ire.

"Smart girl," Spike replied grudgingly.

The two of us then proceeded to sit in silence. After about 5 minutes I finally had enough and blurted out, "I keep seeing my parents."

"What? As The First?" Spike questioned, concerned that the Original Evil may be taunting me and just what it might have been attempting to manipulate me into. Like, say, baking a bunch of poisoned cookies if the way he began eyeing them with an ounce of suspicion was any indication. "That why you checked if I was real?"

Shrugging, I wrapped my arms tighter around my middle and hunched in on myself almost unconsciously, addressing the cookies instead of him, "It only tried it the one time. Not too long after I first got here. Dawn found me hiding in her closet afterwards because it was so horrible. It kept taunting me – first as my mom and then as my dad. Saying it was my fault that they were dead. That my brother was dead. Since then I've found it even harder to sleep."

I looked up at him, taking a deep breath and letting out through my nose, "Every night I replay it. With what I should've done. What I could've done if I'd been there. If I'd listened to Kevin. If I hadn't been so consumed with being normal. While I was at cheer leading practice my family was getting murdered by things that shouldn't have ever existed. That I was happy to know of, but didn't care about because I wasn't the Slayer yet. That it was someone else's problem – Buffy's problem." I let out a short laugh that was much shakier than intended. "Guess it's my problem now though, isn't it?"

Leaving the question hanging in the air I unfolded my arms, my hands curling into fists at my side. As always, the hot anger that had followed me from San Francisco was hovering just beneath the surface waiting to be let out. To be used against someone else.

"Let me give you some advice, baby-slayer," Spike said, leaning forward and pinning me with those eyes. "Regret's an ugly thing – it'll rot your brain if you let it. Same thing with vengeance, trust me on that one. All that fear and anger bubbling up inside you – use it, but don't let it use you."

"How?" I whispered, knowing that he would hear me.

Spike smiled, his lips curving and revealing perfect white teeth that shone as bright as his eyes, "By trusting the Slayer, of course."

I woke up surrounded by cookies on every usable space in our kitchen except the part of the counter I was splayed across. Blinking blearily, I managed to locate my ringing phone and answered it without bothering to check the Caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Hi! I mean good morning," A male voice answered. "It's me, well, David. I was just wanting to check and see if your cousin was alright?"

Huh? Cousin? Straightening I absently rubbed at my cheek where some cookie dough had dried there once I'd eventually passed out. Squinting against the bright golden light pouring in through the kitchen windows I looked at the clock and saw that it was almost 8:30 in the morning. The events from last night flit through my mind – Derek and the wolfsbane bullet, David showing up for my date and my terrible family emergency excuse, learning about Peter and the Hale fire, my newfound anger towards the Argent's.

Finally cutting through the fog in my mind I replied, "Oh! Yes, no, my cousin's alright. We managed to get everything under control. Why-why are you calling?"

"Well, I was wondering how you felt about breakfast?" David asked. "Not in general, but eating it. Out – with me. In, say, 15 minutes?"

This boy was incredible. Even after I canceled on our date the night before when he came to pick me up, he was still wanting to take me out. A warmth started in the center of my chest and radiated outwards, and I'm sure my cheeks even turned pink. Thank the PTB that this was a phone-call and I was alone in my kitchen with only about 50 cookies to stand witness to my blushing like a school girl.

There were worse distractions from painful memories and emotions than going on a date with a cute boy.

Smiling I answered, "I'd say I feel pretty positive about the prospect of breakfast with you in, say, 15 minutes."

"Awesome! I, uh, well that's great. I will see you in 15 minutes."

Trying not to laugh I said, "See you then."

Ending the call, I slid off of the stool and stretched my arms as far above my head as they could go before swinging forward and touching my toes.

"I see you had a productive morning," Kevin remarked from the door-way behind me, eyeing the cookies with raised brows. "I thought you said that you were fine?"

I knew he was referencing my obsessive baking. I knew that he was taking it as a sign that I wasn't coping. But he didn't need to. I was fine.

"I am fine," I told him with a yawn. "Beyond fine – so fine. In fact, my fineness is so very fine that I'm about to go out for breakfast with a boy. A perfectly normal human boy."

"David?" Kevin asked. "The boy from last night?"

"Yes," I made my way past him. "And he'll be here in 15 minutes, so if you'll excuse me I'm going to go and get changed. I've had enough people comment on these pajamas thank you very much."

"The last time you were this fine was in Sunnydale," Kevin's voice came from behind me and my shoulders flinched slightly at the concern in his voice. But I was fine. I was dealing. It wasn't like before. "Just...just enjoy your date, yeah?"

"Thanks," I called as I climbed the stairs, shooting a smile back at him, grateful that he was letting it go.

Even so, I quickly looked away after meeting his narrowed hazel eyes. The emotion in them made something twist inexplicably tight in my belly, the feeling uncomfortably close to guilt.

When David Hatter knocked on my door a second time, I answered it fully prepared. I had glanced at the outfit that Lydia had put aside for our date the night before, and passed it by in favor of worn jeans and a burgundy cable-knit sweater over a yellow blouse. Taking in David's also casual attire of a hoodie, jeans, and beanie I was happy with my decision.

Once we were both seated in the front of his van, I turned to him and asked, "So, where are we headed?"

Grinning over at me he replied, "My favourite place in Beacon Hills to eat."

"Gee, want to vague that up for me?" I teased.

"If I tell you now, it won't be half as exciting once we actually get there," He laughed. "I'm kinda going for mysterious and cool right now."

"Oh," I said, widening my eyes in understanding. "Well by all means then, go ahead and be mysterious and cool."

"Thank you."

Soon enough we pulled up in front of a diner with a large sign above the doors that proclaimed it 'Mike's Place'.

Turning to face me, David grinned as he put the parking-brake on and cut the ignition, "So, ready for the best food in Beacon Hills?"

Shaking my head in amusement I replied, "Who told you the way to my heart was through my stomach?"

Chuckling he shrugged, "Lucky guess?"

David ushered me inside, the bell atop of the door tinkling lightly, and I was greeted by a diner that looked like almost every other diner I'd ever been in. There were booths lining the walls and tables set between them and the bar that ran along the opposite side of the room. The floor was the same black and white checked linoleum, but the Laminate table and counter-tops looked clean and the vinyl seats weren't cracked. There was a warmth to the place, and even though it didn't look like anything special I got the feeling that it was the atmosphere that made it David's favorite place.

We weren't the only people at Mike's for breakfast, but David still managed to snag us a booth in front of the window sliding in opposite me.

Now that we were here, it was like neither of us knew what to say or do as we sat in silence.

Both of us were startled when a waitress chirpily asked, "What can I get you two?"

My head jerked towards her and I didn't blame her for the amused grin that spread across her plum-painted lips. She pulled a small notepad out of the pocket of the apron that was wrapped across her waist and tapped a pen against it teasingly. "You wanting your usual, Hatter?" She asked.

"Uh, yes," David replied. "Thanks Avery."

"And you?" Avery grinned at me.

Panicking, I looked across at David with wide eyes, "I, don't actually know. What's good?"

"Oh honey," Avery chuckled. "I'm gonna get you The Special."

"The Special?" I repeated with raised eyebrows. "As in capital 'T' and 'S'?"

"That's the one," She confirmed. "Now, coffee?"

I shook my head – coffee and I did not mix well – and asked, "Can I just have orange juice, please?"

"Absolutely."

As Avery walked off, I asked David, "The Special isn't like the Sweeney Todd of breakfast foods, right?"

Laughing, he said, "No – not at all. Don't worry, completely human-free."

And just like that, any awkwardness between the two of us was gone.

When Avery next returned, the two of us were laughing at a joke that David had just told. When she placed a stack of pancakes piled 6 high covered in whipped cream, syrup, bacon and blueberries I honestly thought I'd died and gone to breakfast-food heaven.

"Thank you, so much," I told Avery with my eyes glued on the food in front of me.

I didn't even notice that she had left, I only had eyes for the gorgeous food sitting on the plate in front of me.

"If you don't finish it –"

I cut David off, "Oh, are you doubting my ability to eat all of this? Because you, my friend, would be sorely mistaken."

"I'm kind of getting the feeling that there's something going on between you and those pancakes – should I be feeling threatened?"

"Only if you decide to come between us," I grinned over at him while cutting into my food.

"I'll remember that."

"So," I started after swallowing a mouthful of what was quite frankly the best pancakes I'd ever tasted in my entire life. Like, they were probably the best tasting pancakes in the history of everything. "David Hatter, barista and diner connoisseur, tell me about yourself."

"What can I say," He shrugged. "You've got me in a nutshell right there."

Ah, funny guy.

"What's something you're proud of?" I asked. "Something you're really good at."

"E-flat, diminished ninth," David nodded before taking a mouthful of scrambled eggs. "Took me a bit, but I finally mastered it about 2 months ago."

I was silent for a moment before bursting out into giggles, "Impressive."

"Hey, it's no joke," David smirked. "That's a real man's chord – people have lost fingers trying."

"Oh, I'm sure," I grinned. "So you play...guitar?"

"Yeah – I'm actually in a band."

"Of course you are," I said. "Lead singer too?"

"That's right," He gave a half-smile. "Why do I get the feeling you're judging me on this?"

"I'm just surprised it wasn't the first thing you told me," I replied lightly with a teasing smile. "Surely that must get you all the girls?"

"I don't know," He leaned towards me slightly and winked. "Is it working?"

"Hmm," I tilted my head to the side. "To be honest, right now the pancakes are working more in your favor."

Eyeing my half-finished stack of buttery syrupy goodness he stated, "I can see that."

"I like pancakes," I shrugged. "They're stackable. And waffles, cos you can stick things in the little holes if you want to."

"I'll keep that in mind for next time," A sudden look of worry crossed his face. "If there is a next time? Would that be something you'd be, uh, interested in?"

Smiling slyly at him I lightly replied, "Ask me again when I've finished my breakfast."

"You can count on it."

"So, what's the name of your band McFly?" I asked with a quirk of my eyebrow.

Laughing at the reference, he answered, "Imaginary Heroes. But, well, we haven't played all that much. A couple of open mic nights. Mostly my parents garage." His eyes lit up and he leaned forward towards me, "But, we are auditioning to play at the winter formal next week."

"That's actually pretty cool," I took my time chewing while smiling at the adorable blush that darkened his cheeks as he ducked his head.

"What about you?" He asked. "What's something you're proud of?"

Taking down 5 Uber-Vamps without puking? Making Mr. Pointy? Disarming Kevin while fencing for the first time? Impressing Buffy Summers with my improvisational slayering and graduating in the top 3 of my training group?

"Hand brake turn," I nodded my head in confirmation before elaborating. "I've always been a little obsessed with stunt driving. When I passed my test, my dad surprised me with a set of stunt driving lessons. One of the first ones was how to do a hand brake turn."

The look on David's face was one of astonishment, I imagined that was pretty much the last thing he expected me to say. Not many teenage girls would be an honest fan of stunt driving, even with movies like the Fast and Furious series becoming increasingly popular.

"Stunt driving?" He said. "That's, like, ridiculously awesome. Is that what you want to do after school?"

I used to. Now I'll be too busy trying to live past 20 to have time to break into the Hollywood stunt scene. I'll probably have to get a job flipping burgers or waiting tables, something that could deal with the weird hours I'll have to keep while fighting the forces of darkness. But, of course, I couldn't tell him that.

So instead I forced a smile and said, "Yeah, that's exactly it."

"That is way more impressive than E-flat, diminished ninth," David complimented me, and it was my turn to blush, the smile becoming a lot more naturally. But he seemed to have that effect on me – I couldn't remember the last time I had genuinely smiled this much.

"Oh come on, it's not that impressive."

"Hey," He waved his fork in my direction. "You're like an action hero or something."

Man, you don't even know the half of it.

The entire drive back to my house he alternated between teasing me about how I managed to eat the entire Special and asking me not to judge his poor driving. I had to admit, having a morning off from being a slayer was pretty darn nice. Being able to act like a normal 16 year old girl, knowing that Derek was safe at home with Kevin and since Stiles hadn't contacted me I could only assume that Scott wasn't in immediate mortal peril.

I liked David. He made me feel normal.

That's why when he walked me to my front door and with a half-smile asked if I wanted to do this again, the only answer I had for him was, "Yes."

When it came to David Hatter, normal was the watch-word.

"He took you on a breakfast date? That is too cute!"

Dawn was so excited that all I could see was her large grin and the tip of her nose as she leaned too close to the camera and squealed.

Leaning back in my desk chair I couldn't help but laugh, "It was pretty darn adorable."

"I can't believe you're finally on Facebook too! Now I'll be able to put faces to all the people you talk about – except Derek, you're not friends with him. Is he too good for Facebook? Is it, like, too mainstream for the lone werewolf with a tragic back-story?"

Snorting, I grabbed my computer and said to her, "Probably. But if you want to know what he looks like that much it's actually a pretty easy fix." I paused and gave her a mock-stern look before warning, "Don't go falling in love with him."

Last I checked Derek was down in the basement working out, making sure that the wolfsbane hadn't caused any long-lasting effects from being in his system for so long. Holding my finger up to my mouth and telling a giggling Dawn to shush, I spun the computer around so the camera was facing ahead of me and made my way downstairs.

When I made it to the bottom of the stairs it was to the view of Derek's back and shoulder muscles pulling and flexing as he did pull-ups using the bar that ran from one end of the room to the other.

If I heard Dawn's sharp intake of breath, Derek definitely did.

As he turned around I waved at him from behind the computer and said chirpily, "Hey Derek, meet my friend Dawn."

Looking understandably bemused, Derek frowned at the screen where I hoped Dawn wasn't doing anything embarrassing. "Hi!" Her voice squeaked out of the speakers.

"I was just, uh, giving her a tour of the house since she's back at HQ," I explained lamely to the older werewolf. "So, Dawn, this is the basement where I keep all the training equipment, weapons, and broody werewolves. Next on our tour is the kitchen – the most important room in the house since that's where the food is." Holding the camera closer to Derek I added, "Say goodbye to Derek."

"B-bye Derek."

"Later, McBroody," I told him with a salute before booking it up the stairs and closing the basement door behind me.

Spinning the computer around I saw Dawn squirming in her chair, her long nutmeg brown hair swishing around her shoulders as she stared at me with round blue eyes. "Not yet," I warned her in a low voice. "Wait until I'm back upstairs."

Taking the stairs two at a time, I shut my bedroom door behind me and jumped back onto my bed bouncing twice before turning the volume down once I saw how flushed Dawn's fair skin was with the effort to keep quiet. "Alright," I said in a hushed tone. "It's safe."

Well, as safe as can be when sharing a house with someone who has superhero hearing.

"OHMYGOD!" Dawn screeched, her hands bunched up in front of her face. "He's gorgeous! Like, Angel gorgeous. Or Spike gorgeous. Oh, don't let Buffy ever meet him – he'd be just her type! All tortured and mysterious and supernatural and ohmygod those eyes! You should make him be shirtless, like, all of the time. He should never wear a shirt, it's an offense to nature."

"Are you finished?" I asked with a laugh as her breathless rambling came to an end.

"Is he still working out? We should go watch him work out. We can call out encouragement and you can throw a bucket of water on him or something." Her blue eyes grew even wider as visions of a wet Derek ran rampant through her mind and she stared unfocused to the side of the screen.

"Stop objectifying Derek!" My attempt to sound stern was completely ruined by the snort I couldn't suppress.

"Fine!" Dawn dramatically flapped a hand around her face. "Gosh, you're no fun!"

"How's everyone over there?" I asked, despite the new friends I'd made in Beacon Hills I still missed my friends back at HQ. Willow, the resident witch who rambled more than I did and was the most adorable computer nerd I'd ever met. Xander, the one-eyed Watcher who made terrible pirate jokes and got all of my comic-book references. Faith, the other capital 'S' slayer who was tough and blunt and had absolutely no stories that were rated less than 'R' and no issues with telling them to anyone who was interested in listening. Giles, Buffy's Watcher and just as British as Kevin was – I wondered if they missed their tea dates where they would drink scotch out of tea-cups and hope we wouldn't notice. Andrew, the trainee Watcher who made more Pop Culture references than the entire team put together. And, lastly, Buffy – the leader, Original Slayer, and my low-key girl crush.

"We're doing alright – we've got Willow locating more and more new slayers every day." She answered, calming down and switching over to a seriousness that she rarely displayed. Dawn lived up to her name, even when scared or worried she was a bright ray of optimism and bad jokes. "Some are, like, really young though. It seems whatever magical whosiwotsit she worked decided to activate every slayer at that moment, whether they were eight or eighteen. There's been a lot of scared parents and children. Like, there was this one girl who accidentally broke her brothers arm while playing football in the backyard. And another one who put her elementary school bully in a coma. Buffy was really conflicted about taking her away from her parents, eight's way too young but at the same time we've got to train you guys so you don't hurt anyone by accident. It's like actually being stuck between a rock and a hard place. Major suckage."

"Yeah," I agreed, trying not to think about how my family would have reacted if I'd been Called younger. Or while they were still alive. "It's definitely a messy situation."

"That's for sure," Dawn sighed, rubbing a hand over her face before tangling it in her hair. "This whole situation definitely isn't 100% of the good. More like, 65% – 70% on a good day."

Remembering my time back at HQ, I knew what she meant by 'good day'. It meant a day with minimal crying. With minimal yelling and screaming and blame. I didn't envy Buffy, in those moments. Sometimes I'd wonder if she'd thought it through, Calling all of us at the same time. If she considered the consequences. And then I'd think that if I'd been in her place, desperate and afraid in the face of an unstoppable enemy – the First Evil, capital F and E – if I'd have done the same thing.

"Enough gloominess!" Dawn chirped, her round blue eyes held the worry she was trying to hide with an exuberant grin. I decided to let it go, for now. I knew Dawn would fill me in when she was ready. We didn't push because we knew we'd find out eventually. It was one of the many aspects of our friendship I appreciated. "Tell me more about your date – spare no detail because as you recall I'm living vicariously through you. I'm wanting the same amount of detail as the romance novels Buffy used to hide under her bed with the half-naked guys on the cover. You get bonus points for the words 'heaving bosom' and 'galloping abs'."

Galloping abs? What kind of romance novels did Buffy read? Poorly translated foreign ones?

Snorting, I shook my head in amusement and settled down more comfortably on my bed. If Dawn wanted a dramatic retelling of my date, then by the Gods she'd get one. Heaving bosoms and all.

The sound of sirens filled the still night air as I ran across the roof-tops of Beacon Hills, Scott and I on either side of Derek.

I had stop myself from calling out 'parkour' every time Scott or Derek did an unnecessary flip.

We approached the flashing red and blue lights that cast the parking lot of the video store in undulating shadows, Derek ushering us up onto the roof of the building as we were unable to get any closer thanks to the cops and paramedics that moved below.

"Whoa! Is that a dead body?"

My eyes zeroed in on Stiles as he gaped at a black body-bag being wheeled past him, and I had to agree with the sound of exasperation his father made.

No, Stiles, that isn't a dead body. It's a submarine.

"Stiles! Go and wait in the car!" The sheriff barked out before turning back towards the person he was speaking to, probably getting a witness statement.

Once I recognized who the sheriff was talking to, all reason fled my mind.

I vaguely heard Derek and Scott telling me to stop, and fingers wrapping around my wrist before I wrenched free from their grip, but regardless I dropped down the side of the building with little thought to who might see me. I'm sure that in my panic I may have exerted a little bit of slayer speed as I sprinted across the parking lot, dodging various emergency workers who tried to stop me, not stopping until I plowed face-first into a very solid chest.

"What the shit!" Jackson swore as I wrapped my arms around him tightly before springing back. His hands were left hovering somewhere around my waist as though he had started to return the hug but had then gotten conflicted about it.

Grabbing his chin firmly, I pulled his face down to mine and inspected him for any injuries, and once he realized I was the one man-handling him he stopped struggling and let me continue with a roll of his eyes. Once I was satisfied that the lone scratch above his eyebrow and the bruising dusting one side of his jaw were purely superficial, I gripped his biceps and raked the rest of his body with my eyes for any further injuries.

Specifically, bite marks.

Patience finally running out, Jackson gently swatted me away, grumbling, "I'm fine, just got pinned under some shelves. Quit it with the inspection. All for The Goddamned Notebook."

"Notebook?" I cocked my head to the side before it clicked. The Notebook. There was only one person that would make him watch that.

"Lydia!" I grabbed onto Jackson's arms again and he took half a step backwards, probably worried I was going to start hugging him once more. "Where's Lydia?"

"Over there," He motioned behind him with a tilt of his head, where an ambulance sat parked with a few paramedics milling around outside of it. "She's okay – was in the car the whole time."

Squeezing once, I let go of Jackson before whirling towards the back of the open ambulance.

Lydia was sitting on the gurney, a blanket draped around her shoulders as she stared blankly across the vehicle. I'd seen shock enough times since becoming a slayer – and experienced it myself – to know that that was exactly what was wrong with Lydia.

Ignoring the paramedics trying to shoo me away, I hauled myself up into the back of the ambulance and crouch down in front of Lydia, placing my hands on her knees. Two of my friends had almost been victims of an Alpha werewolf attack. If they thought there was anyway they could keep me away, they were kidding themselves.

Large green eyes stared blank holes through my face and her hair hung limply over her shoulders. "Hey, Lydia," I spoke gently to her. "It's Fred."

As though my voice alone was enough to penetrate whatever fugue state she was stuck in, her pupils rapidly contracted and expanded before finally focusing on me. I was caught unaware as her arms went around my neck in a drowning grip and she buried her face in my clavicle, breath hot against the skin of my throat.

Beneath her shaky breaths and the noise surrounding us, I could hear her whispering:

"Why were it's eyes red?"

A/N:

Thankyou to evewrites for being my beta =)

Hi Guys! Sorry it took so long, I was on holiday in Hawaii and only got back home a few days ago.

But there we go! Fred and David finally had their date. And Dawn met Derek. Lucky her! And now we jump into the latest Alpha Attack!

randomcassie8: I'm so glad that you enjoyed the last chapter! And Fred's always been a badass, it's just now she gets to show it off! haha

TinyCurmudgeon: I loved Kevin in that scene. Like, no drama for him. "Oh? You're not dead? Excellent, I do so hate when that happens." And I'm happy you're enjoying my little changes to the story-line now that Fred's there. Also, 'lone wolf'? - badum-ting!

Montanasmith5897: Welcome! I'm very happy to hear you're enjoying the story and the dynamic between all the characters. That's always the hardest thing with OC's, making sure they have their own little realistic niche in the cast.

finish-her: Welcome! Thank you so much for your review and kind words. I'm stoked to have another fan of the Fred/Derek BROTP on-board! Plus, I love Fred and Jackson, so I love that you do too! Man, I can't wait to get to Fred and Stiles, but her and Hatter will be pretty darn adorable until then.

As always, please let me know what you're thinking - reviews literally give me life since half the reason I write this is for my readers. So I really do appreciate each and every one of you who take the time to flick me a line.

-SusieSamurai (Kam)