AN: Jules. =) Please excuse any awkward non-Derek-ness, because I'm having some difficulty finding his voice. Luckily, this is fanfiction, so Kayla and I can twist the lovely characters that sadly do not belong to us (disclaimer!) and do with them what we will. =)

I know this chapter sucks, and I'm very sorry. I was forcing it a little, but after making you all wait so long for a new chapter, I wanted to give you this one asap… =/ Forgive me?

Also, reviews are awesome, and out first ever reviewer is even more so! Findmywaybacktoyou, thanks for the review! I'm so glad you like my Rachel, and I'm glad you liked my door line…notice he didn't fix it last chapter. Will he in this one? I guess you'll have to read and find out. ;)

So, you, know, go.

Quinn watched the strange wolf warily. She wished Stiles and Scott had stayed, if only because they were far more familiar with this Derek person than herself or Rachel.

He was the second wolf she had met today, and that was more than she'd met ever. Scott was far less intimidating, however, and Quinn wasn't sure she wanted the older wolf here for very much longer. Something about him made Quinn want to obey, some basic instinct—but Quinn's not exactly the obeying type.

The instinct was off-putting but, it seemed, a werewolf only thing—Rachel's only reaction to him was…Quinn blushed.

Interesting.

She looked between the two of them before excusing herself and rushing up the stairs to Rachel's oh-so-cheery room.

A hunter and a werewolf together would be very interesting indeed.

Derek stood awkwardly in this Rachel's front hall, still feeling the adrenaline and urge to fight, to kill, to protect his pack.

Not, he acknowledged to himself, that Scott or Stiles were in danger, apparently, unless you count being holed up with two girls all day dangerous.

And, Derek thought, looking the small girl in front him over, maybe it is.

Because, he was surprised to discover, she was beautiful. Dark chocolate hair was pulled up into a ponytail, and while he liked the view of her slender pale neck, he had this strange desire to see her hair down and free, to run his fingers though it and use it to pull her closer and…

Derek shook his head, trying to stop his mind from going there, going to that place that was skin and sweat and…

"So, are you going to fix my door or what? After all, you did quite rudely kick it in." She gave him a sweetly sarcastic smile. "It was very inconsiderate."

He arched a brow at her, wondering why this tiny slip of a girl wasn't intimidated by him in the slightest, thought she could boss him around. He opened his mouth to answer, but she began talking again before he could even make a sound.

"If its tools you need, I have some. They're pink." She gave him a level look. "Fix my door, Derek." And with that she bounced off into the kitchen, muttering about boys and messy and stupid, dark eyes.

He eyed the now detached door with disdain, wondering if he could escape without repairing it. He knew, logically, that it wouldn't be difficult to fix, and it really was his fault, but he did not want Rachel to think he was going to do it because she told him to.

Mind made up, he had barely taken one step towards the doorway when he heard a telltale click.

"I realize holding a silver-loaded gun on you is very extreme and very rude of me, as you are currently a guest in my home, but if you don't fix what you broke, I'm going to have a very serious problem. And I will take you down with me."

He turned to face her, eyeing the gun for a moment before letting his eyes rest on her face. "What sort of serious problem?"

She looked amused, which Derek felt, at this current point, with the gun and all, was a very strange and inappropriate reaction.

"Do you really think you're the biggest and baddest thing out there? Darlin', you're not even the biggest baddest in this town. You have no idea what else in this place." She gestured to the door on the ground. "And while that may seem like small and useless protection, you'd be surprised how many very bad things can be deterred by a door. So you're going to fix it." She handed him a small black toolbox, and lowered the gun, clicking the safety back in place.

"I'm going to go clean the hurricane your boys inflicted on my living room." She turned to go, but paused in the doorway. "And, thank you, Derek."

He decided he liked the way she said his name, as he opened the toolbox and analyzed the door. Turning to look at the tools, he bit back a growl. Maybe that was the only thing he liked about her, he decided. Everything else was just frustrating and strange.

The tools were pink.

Rachel felt guilty. She didn't want to hold a gun on him. She didn't want to use the threat of silver. But he didn't understand the gravity of the situation. That door had been warded—a gift from a friend—and if he broke it, he had to be the one to fix it. She didn't know or understand why. In all honesty, she had dozed when he explained it to her, but she remembered enough to know that if Derek didn't reattach her door, she and her family and friends were screwed.

There were too many things trying to kill her for her to be anything less that overly cautious.

She finished cleaning the living room in record time, humming under her breath while she picked up abandoned monopoly pieces and Chinese take-out cartons. She heard Derek finishing up as well, and decided that maybe, just maybe, she could try to be nice to him now that he fixed her door.

She wandered into the front hall and leaned against the entryway, taking a moment to appreciate the fine specimen of man…wolf?...before her. He really was very good looking, especially, she noticed as he bent to replace her tools, from this angle.

"See something interesting?"

She blushed at getting caught, turning her face away as he stood up and clicked her door shut, everything in place.

"Nope. Nothing at all." She took her pink tools from him, grinning at the thought of him using them—she probably should have given him her daddy's Craftsman set, but hers were so much more entertaining. Maybe Noah was right—she's a little evil.

She walked towards the kitchen, addressing him over her shoulder. "Want something to drink?"

She smiled as she felt his heat following her. She had a feeling things in her life were about to get very interesting…