Well, I have nothing much to say before I dive into this chapter, other than that I really appreciate all of the reviews you all have left, and please do keep them coming. Without further ado, here is the next installment of "Home":

"Jane! Hey, Jane!"

It took all of my willpower not to cringe at the sound of Allison's cheerful voice early that morning at school. Two mornings ago, I had woken up with a horrid headache that had erupted into throbbing within my left and right temples. Over the past two days, the pain had crept all the way down to the base of my neck, settling there and constantly forcing my hand to reach back and massage the knots away. Even now, as I turned around in the parking lot of Beacon Hills High to reluctantly smile at the curly-haired girl who was bounding towards me, I felt the ever-present digging within my neck.

"Good morning," I told Allison as soon as she arrived by my side.

"Morning," she grinned, her cheeks flushed slightly from the jog over, as well as the growing chill skulking through the parking lot. Her warm, chocolate brown eyes blinked down at me and, as her grin began to slip from her face, she asked, "Everything alright?"

How much time do you have, I couldn't help but think to myself ironically. Most of my life had now been consumed by school and work, along with my responsibilities at my grandparents' house. My grandmother's arthritis had been acting up in the past couple of days and, since they had such a difficult time affording her medicine, I was tasked with taking over all of the household chores. The only time I was able to savor for myself was during those late sleepless nights as I was blankly gazing up at my ceiling, thinking over everything that had happened since I had met Derek Hale those few weeks ago.

Keeping to his unspoken promise, Derek had avoided me ever since that night at the gas station. To most, this would seem to be a blessing in disguise, since it seemed that all Derek could offer me was complications and even more headaches. And yet, I couldn't help but feel oddly disappointed as the minutes and hours ticked by, and still Derek was wiped clean from my life. Whatever he was involved in, Derek was sticking to his word and avoiding my involvement, no matter what the cost would be.

"Just a headache," I now shrugged, working overtime to improve upon my weak smile. We began to walk with the rest of the masses to the front doors of the school. "What can I do for you, Allison?"

"Well, actually, I was wondering if I could have your help on something," she said, her fingers nervously reaching up to fidget with the strap of her bag.

"Name it."

"Well, a…friend of mine is coming over to study with me today after school, and I was hoping you could—"

"Allison!" a vaguely familiar, masculine voice yelled out through the parking lot, causing a couple onlookers to glance around curiously. Just as Allison turned to face the person, I glanced down at my watch, hoping that the bell wasn't about to ring anytime soon; I'd already been late once that week, and I'd rather not make a habit of it, especially since I was still considered the "new girl".

"You forgot this," said the same voice, now much closer to us. Something about the tone of his voice sounded oddly familiar, forcing me to bewilderedly frown as I glanced up from my watch and gazed directly, with an instant jolt, into the pale blue eyes of the man who had stopped Derek and me at the gas station earlier that week.

Immediate surprise fleetingly arose upon the man's sharp features but, as soon as I blinked, it vanished. Instead, a small smile was planted across his face as he glanced over at Allison, who was beaming up at him, oblivious.

"Thanks, Dad," she was grinning, cell phone now tightly grasped in her hand. "Oh, Dad, this is my friend Jane—I don't think you've met before?"

"No, I don't believe we have," said Mr. Argent, reaching out a calm hand out to me. "It's nice to meet you, Jane."

"Same here," I replied, unable to even muster a smile as I tentatively reached out a hand to shake his. My breath was clogged in my throat, but I barely felt comfortable enough to blink, let alone clear my throat. After a few shakes, I tugged my hand from his grip, swiftly bringing it back to my side. The movement wasn't overlooked by Mr. Argent, who seemed to almost be smirking deep within at my uncomfortable demeanor.

"Dad was just dropping me off this one time," said Allison, still unaware of my discomfort. "My car's in the shop, but hopefully he'll be bringing it before school's over. Right, Dad?"

"I'll try," smiled Mr. Argent amusedly, seamlessly transitioning into the role of a loving father, and not the frightening man who had threatened Derek and me earlier that week.

My breath still caught up in my throat, I peered over at Allison, who was now grinning at me, as if she thought this horrible situation was positively hilarious. This time unable to return her smile, I told her distantly, "I'm sorry, I just realized I…left something in my car. I'll see you later though, okay?"

And, not even bothering to wait for a response or offering a more suitable goodbye, I hurried past the startled Allison and her father, roaming deeper into the parking lot even though my car was in the other direction. The only thought racing through my confused, aching mind was that I had to put as much space as possible between Mr. Argent and myself—that way I'd finally be able to breath in the cool air and allow myself to think about what the hell just happened.

"How are you today, Jane?"

The fluorescent lights within Ms. Morrell's office were frustratingly bright; they had fleetingly blinded me when I'd first stepped into the office. My head now only seemed to throb harder as I continued to sit in the muted green, plastic chair, the guidance counselor's desk only a couple steps away from my knees. But, as this was my first appointment with Ms. Morrell, I forced myself to swallow my agony and suffer through the meeting. After all, as soon as this was over, I'd finally be able to go to work and then home, where I'd be moments away from blissful sleep.

Trying my best to blink away the agonizing pain, I squinted my eyes at the dark-haired woman and willed myself to answer, "I've been alright, I guess."

It would be difficult for anyone to deny Ms. Morrell's startling beauty—her skin was smooth and the color of fresh mocha. Silky, black hair hung straight as a board around her soft face, her plump lips turned up in a calm smile. While her dark, almond-shaped eyes were cool and even soothing, she held a certain amount of power in her intense gaze. It seemed that it would take more than some teenage angst to rattle Ms. Morrell's cage.

"That's good," replied Ms. Morrell now, smiling evenly at me. "How has your transition been to Beacon Hills? You haven't stumbled into any problems, have you?"

"It's been as good as can be expected," I said. "I managed to find a job pretty quickly at the library, so, between that and school, I've been keeping pretty busy."

"I hope you're not feeling too overwhelmed. It can be hard…new town, new school in your senior year. It's a lot to ask of an adult, let alone an eighteen-year-old."

"I get by," I smiled weakly up at her. "I have my grandparents, my uncle, my cousin…they help me through it."

"And your friends? Do they help you as well?"

Oddly enough, it wasn't Allison's or even Stiles' face that abruptly began to swim right before my eyes. Instead, Derek's piercing, emerald green stare cut right through me, easily picking out my poorly hidden thoughts and emotions. Frowning and mentally shaking the vision from my mind, I returned Ms. Morrell's gaze and replied, "I'm not really close with anyone here."

"What about your old friends back home?" Ms. Morrell asked, her lips beginning to turn down in a puzzled frown. "Have you been keeping in touch with them?"

"I don't have any," I said. "It was always just me and my dad. My mom passed away just after I was born. She had some….difficulties with childbirth."

The guidance counselor's frown deepened as she briefly glanced down at an open manila folder resting upon her desk, her narrowed, dark eyes reading in the scattered documents before her. "It must have been…very difficult for you when you lost him. Especially in the manner that he was found—"

Flashes of puddles of crimson blood, surrounding darkness, and empty eyes assaulted my vision, causing me to visibly shudder as I fought to bury them deep within once more. Those memories had been hidden for the past month, but it seemed that even the slightest mention of them could trigger them. My hands clasped in trembling fists now, I gazed at Ms. Morrell and quietly said, "Please. I don't want to talk about that."

"Of course," said Ms. Morrell gently, her dark eyes refusing to leave my face. "But, you know, it is dangerous to keep all of your emotions, your fears, your memories bottled up deep inside of you. They always seem to have make a pesky habit of resurfacing when you least expect it."

I refused to respond, instead turning my stare down to my hands, which were slowly beginning to steady themselves once more. I worked so tirelessly to keep those thoughts concealed that their return had seemed to shock my system to its very core. Swallowing the lump in the back of my throat, I forced my eyes back to Ms. Morrell's just as she was saying, "Have you given any thought to college yet?"

Feeling my trembling dissipating within my body, I stiffly nodded and replied, "Yes. There were a couple of colleges in Boston I had in mind before…the circumstances changed." Clearing my throat, I continued, "But my uncle was able to give me a few ideas when I first moved here. I have the applications but I haven't been able to find the time to sit down and start filling them out."

"Well, if you need any references or have any issues filling them out, just let me know. That's why I'm here," she said. "Just out of curiosity, what did you have in mind for a major?"

"Nursing," I said. There was just a moment of hesitation before I added, "My mother was a nurse. It just seems like the right path for me."

A warm smile crossed Ms. Morrell's beautiful features as she nodded her head. "Children often strive to follow in their parents' footsteps. It's a cycle of human nature, I'm afraid."

I nodded in response. For some reason, her penetrating gaze forced me to turn my eyes down to my shoes.

"I guess that's all for today," she said, causing me to turn back to her face. Just as I made to stand, backpack in hand, she added, "Jane, if you have any problems or just need someone to talk to, feel free to stop by at any time. My door's always open."

"Thank you," I replied genuinely. "I'll be sure to remember that."

I had just about made it to the closed office door, my hand reaching out for the round, steel door knob, when Ms. Morrell abruptly said, "You know, Jane, you don't always have to face your problems on your own. Everyone needs someone at some point in their life."

My shoulders stiffened as those familiar words registered in my mind. Slowly I turned, blinking in surprise at the guidance counselor, who was blandly smiling up at me. "Something wrong?" she asked.

"No," I replied finally. "It's…it's nothing."

But it wasn't nothing, and Ms. Morrell knew it, and I knew it as well, even as I eventually was walking down the school corridor, shaking my head as those words continued to tug at my mind. Perhaps it was just my imagination, or a coincidence—it wasn't as if Ms. Morrell had been in the car when I'd rehashed those same words to Derek those couple of nights ago. No, it was just a coincidence, and nothing more.

Still continuing to convince myself, I continued through the corridor; since the last bell of the day had yet to ring, most of my fellow classmates were still locked up in their classes, breathlessly waiting for that abrupt ringing that would signal the end to another school day. I expected to see the occasional roaming student as I made my way to the front doors, and nothing more. But then, as I began to dig my keys out of my jeans pocket, I caught a glimpse of an all-too familiar black-haired head ducked down into a small alcove by a strip of blue lockers.

"Derek?" I gently asked as I approached him, but it appeared he hadn't even heard me. His forest green eyes were closed, shoulders slouched as he leaned farther into the corner. As I came nearer, I caught the subtle changes of him—pale, clammy skin, the deep furrow of his brow, the slight tremble of his hands. Frown playing on my lips at this exceptionally odd behavior, I tentatively reached out a hand to touch his left forearm. "Derek?" I repeated as my fingers met with the soft cotton of his gray, long-sleeved shirt.

His reaction was instant—Derek shuddered away from my touch, eyes blinking open as he turned towards me, mouth twisted in a pained grimace. "Get away," he growled at me just as the bell rang. His hand reached up to cradle his ear, as if the loud noise was physically paining him.

"What's wrong?" I asked immediately, startled by his brusque attitude.

Derek ignored me, mumbling, "Stay away from me," as he made sure to avoid brushing by me as he forced himself away from the corner and began to stalk down the corridor. Students were beginning to filter out into the hallway, but my eyes never left Derek as I hurried after him. "Derek, what are you doing here? What happened to you?" I demanded as my short, frantic strides somehow managed to match his long ones.

"I need…need to find Scott McCall," he managed to let out through gritted teeth.

Blinking in surprise, I opened my mouth to ask what on Earth he needed him for but, judging by Derek's pained expression, now probably wasn't the best time to be interrogating him. "He's best friends with my cousin," I said instead. "I can call him if you want?"

"Fine," retorted Derek shortly, continuing to slowly walk.

Sighing to myself, I grabbed ahold of his hand and, ignoring his growl, pulled him to the side of the hallway, out of the growing crowd. "Just stay here while I call him, okay?" I told him as I dug my cell phone out of my bag. I hastily dialed Stiles' phone number, ducking my head down in order to see the tiny numbers set upon the keypad.

Just as I put the phone to my ear, I straightened my sore neck, only to find that Derek had disappeared from sight. "Damn it," I mumbled to myself as I dove into the crowd of students, phone still plastered to my ear as I hurriedly searched for Derek. The phone ringed loudly several times before reaching voicemail. Grumbling in annoyance, I pressed redial and tried again. As the phone rang for the second time, I managed to step out into the balmy sunlight with the rest of the horde, Derek still nowhere to be found.

Honking sounded in the distance, interrupting me redialing Stiles' number for the third time. Frowning, I turned to the growing noises, only to spot Stiles' pale blue Jeep parked in the middle of the parking lot, blocking traffic as Derek was slumped down on the hard pavement in front of it. The familiar curly, black-haired head of Scott McCall was racing forward just as I hurriedly hung up the phone and followed him.

"Derek, get up," Scott was forcefully ordering him as soon as I neared them. At the sound of my footsteps, he and Stiles, who had bolted out of his car as soon as his friend arrived, glanced up at me in surprise. Derek, however, was glaring up at me, his face twisted in so much pain that a jolt of ice rushed through my insides. Abruptly he began to pull himself off the ground, narrowed green gaze never leaving my face.

"What are you doing here?" Stiles asked me furiously, rounding on me as soon as Derek was back on his feet.

"I found him in the school when he was looking for Scott," I replied, momentarily startled by his sudden rush of anger. Annoyance growing as he continued to angrily glare down at me, I added tetchily, "I was trying to call you to find Scott but someone doesn't know how to answer their damn phone."

"Sorry, I was a bit busy trying not to turn your boyfriend here into road kill," he shot back at me.

Heat splashed across my face as I opened my mouth to retort that Derek was, in fact, not my boyfriend when Scott abruptly said exhaustedly, "Could you two please stop arguing and help me get him into the Jeep?"

Shooting my cousin one last glare, I pulled open the passenger door just as Scott helped onto the seat. As Derek quietly mumbled something to Scott about a bullet, I made my way back over to the driver's side, wrenching the creaky door open and beginning to shove the seat forward so I could crawl into the back seat. However, a hand grabbed ahold of the seat, forcing me to turn my glare onto my annoyed cousin. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Getting into the back," I replied, trying to jerk the seat up, but Stiles continued to hold it steady.

"No," said Stiles firmly, his narrowed eyes oddly reminding me of my uncle's.

"I'm not just going to sit by while there's something clearly wrong with him," I told him. "I'm going with you."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am," I said heatedly.

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"No."

"Yes."

"N—"

"She's not coming," came Derek's quiet voice, forcing both of us to silently turn towards him. His mouth was twisted into a pained scowl, his drained gaze directly on my face as he added, "You have to stay here."

Normally, I would have eventually given into their stubbornness, admitting defeat and stepping away from the argument. But the frustration from my headache, my second meeting with Mr. Argent, and the raw memories of that one night prodding at my tender mind caused my temper to snap. Frowning at Derek, I coldly replied, "You're in no state to tell me what to do." And, ignoring Stiles' continued complaints, I stuffed my bag into the back and clambered into the backseat.

Derek's narrowed eyes persisted in glaring at me in the rearview mirror, but I ignored them as I caught Scott offering Stiles a poorly executed expression of sympathy. "Just get him out of here," he pleaded.

"I'm not sure which of you I hate more right now," mumbled my cousin as he climbed into the driver's seat. Without another word, Stiles stepped on the gas, barreling out of the parking lot and leaving the school behind us.

Alright, so this is finally finished. I'm not sure why, but I really struggled with writing this chapter. I'm just so drained right now with moving, I think. And I know it's not as long as you probably expected, but that's only because I chose to split this and the next chapter into two, instead of writing one jump chapter. What'd you all think? Any thoughts on what Ms. Morrell was talking about when she mentioned her father's death? And the bickering between Jane and Stiles? Please don't forget to leave a review. Thanks for reading!