A/N: This chapter is a little sad but I think you will like it. Thanks for your great reviews. KEEP REVIEWING I want to know all about if you like and WHAT you like about it, or what you don't. Enjoy :)

When I was younger and Mom was still alive, I remember always waking up to the smell of coffee and pancakes. Mom loved to cook for Stiles and I. Her pancakes were just fluffy enough and if she was in a great mood she would put chocolate chips in them. Dad would read the news paper while simultaneously flipping pancakes, which always had Stiles and I wondering how he did it. Mom would laugh and clap her hands when he would catch them back in the pan, giggling and covering her mouth when he didn't. She has a beautiful laugh, like bells ringing on Christmas. I always wished I had her laugh, but I instead have one that sounds like a mix between a seal and an elephant squealing.

I wake up this morning to that smell, and am taken back to the simpler times. Then I rush back to reality when someone moves next to me and their hand moves from my stomach. My eyes fly around to Isaac and his arms, wrapped securely around my stomach, my back against him chest. I wiggle some room and cough loudly, waiting for him to wake up.

His eyes shoot open after I cough, his arms disappearing from my frame and sitting up, ready for a fight. My laugh fills the living room, and his tense muscles relax.

"Oh, calm down, Isaac. I'm not here to kill you. The most harm you could have done to me was squeezing me too tight in a hug." I struggle to sit up against the couch from the mattress, and Isaac smiles at me.

"Sorry. I guess I'm still waiting for something crazy to happen and all hell to break loose again."

I sigh, understanding him. "I get it. I've been expecting it to happen for a while."

"What's that amazing smell?" Allison sits up, her eyes trying to focus as she blinks.

"Mm, smells like pancakes." Isaac inhales, werewolf senses picking up on what I am.

"Well if it's pancakes why are we still sitting here? Get me my chair, Isaac. I'm starved." As soon as I say it I realize how old lady-ish I sounded. "Oh god I sound like a 90 year old lady at a retirement home smelling pea soup."

Isaac laughs and Allison collapses onto the mattress again in giggles. "I would certainly hope you haven't been lying about your age, Blair?" Isaac grins and hops up to get my wheel chair. "Sure you don't want the leg?"

"I need a day off of that leg." I tell him.

Isaac whisks me off to the kitchen, where I see Lydia sitting on the counter, mixing what I can only assume is pancake batter in a bowl, laughing and shaking her head at something Stiles is telling her. My brother stands at the stove, flipping pancakes and telling some story that probably never happened.

Lydia's eyes catch us and she smiles, "Pancakes? Stiles told me you love chocolate chips in yours, Blair." I see the already made ones on the table and almost fall out of the chair trying to get to them.

Stiles and Lydia continue to make more pancakes for us all, and I shovel into my mouth at least five before sitting back in my chair and letting the many conversations roll over me.

"Never! Tangled is so better!"

"I can't imagine how you can draw all twelve hours without falling asleep!"

"Pools never compare to a good ocean skinny dipping."

"But why burn it after it touches the ground? It's a waste of a good flag."

"Cars should be able to drive themselves. Too much work for us."

"Ketchup packets are too small. I'm sure tons of people would like bigger ones."

"Automatic pencil sharpener. It's all we need in life."

The words are jumbled together, random snippets of many conversations flying through my brain at once. My eyes slide over everyone, their eyes alive with life and talking. I lose myself in watching their motions and not listening to their words. Allison using her eyes more than her hands for emotions. Isaac smiles every so often to let us know he is joking. Stiles using one hand to talk at all times, the other disappearing under the table, which makes me think of Lydia who seems to only have one hand above the table also. Holding hands? I wrinkle my nose, not sure why they won't just come out and tell us what's going on.

"-wrong, Blair?" At the sound of my name I glance back up, and notice the talking has ceased and suddenly all eyes are on me.

"Hmm?" I ask, using my fork to swirl the dropped chocolate around my plate.

"Something wrong?" Allison raises her eyebrow.

"Nope. Just…sitting." I smile guiltily, brushing a stray piece of hair from my face.

"Uh huh. Sure." Allison grins and takes a peek at Stiles and Lydia, letting me know she realized also. I smile into my shoulder before looking back around at everyone.

"Where's Scott?" I ask, pinpointing what felt out of place.

"He had to go over to Derek's place to grab some stuff Derek left for us." Stiles drops his eyes to the table and everyone falls into a somber silence, as it always does when Derek is brought up.

No one s particularly angry that he left, knowing he had a right to go and find a better life for him and his sister. But it's like we are all missing something in Beacon Hills suddenly, one of our pack members gone. A coldness set over us knowing he might never come back to even visit. I was confused and aggravated the first few days after I was told he left, without a true goodbye to me. Derek and I weren't at that close, but I thought of him as an uncle. No goodbye was a hit to me. I cant imagine how horrible Scott and Isaac must be feeling about it.

"What did he leave for us?" I wonder aloud, not sure I would get an answer.

"No idea. That's why Scott went over to get it."

"Is he going to be back soon?" Allison asks.

"Not sure, but he left a while ago, so I would guess so." Stiles tells is. Not ten minutes later Scott rolls inside with a small box, a little bigger than a shoe box, in his hands.

"That's all?" I grimace.

"He didn't have much to take, let alone much for us." Scott shrugs and drops the box on the table. The dishes have all been taken to the dish washer, and everyone sits, all eyes on the box, yet no one moves for a good five minutes.

Isaac is the first to reach to open the box, his fingers sitting on the box for a second before throwing it off. We all lean to see what sits inside, the suspense draining as we see a few pictures and some notes.

We each have a note, something I wouldn't have expected from Derek. But by the first line, I see why.

Blair,

Cora made me write this, I'm not writing it on my own accord. No one is sure if you are going to be okay yet, so I might be writing this to a ghost. But, you never know, werewolves and kanimas, maybe ghosts are in Beacon Hills too. Either way, if you get this, you should know that Cora and I are going to be okay. I wanted her to have a semi normal life, not always hyper aware that something is going to be around the corner and ready to kill. If you are alive, stop moping because I know you are. I'm not coming back, so get off your scrawny little ass and do something other than be a high school kid. You're smart, Blair, and you shouldn't be stuck there either. Just make sure you don't have anything to leave behind if you go.

My eyes are watering by the end, although there is nothing to cry over in the letter. I am just reminded how much I miss Derek and all the emotions hit me like a wave.

"Oh god. He's never coming back." I gasp and look up at everyone, who look just as overwhelmed as me. "He-he isn't-" The tears roll over my eyes and Stiles reaches over for my hand.

"It's okay, Blair. It's good for him to go. This wasn't for him. Cora deserved something more than this. Derek did too." I nod, locking my sad emotions away. Stiles lets go of my hand and finishes reading his letter before setting it back in the box. I follow his lead and then everyone does the same.

"What do we do with them?" Lydia asks, her eyes looking to Scott for authority.

Scott's eyes stay locked on the box, and I sense that he is taking it hard, but he understands Derek's reasons. "Now we let him go."

Later that night we take the box outside and watch it burn, letting Derek's last words to us rise into the sky and back into the night. We all lay in the grass, watching the stars after the smoke disappears.

No words are spoken, because none are needed.

Hands are held, tears are shed, smiles at memories are seen.

We let Derek and Cora go tonight, let them have the peace they need.