Hey guys. Sorry this wasn't uploaded yesterday, but I didn't go on my laptop yesterday - stupid cramps - and I didn't get to type up the last of this chapter until this afternoon.

Also, sorry for the feels in this chapter. I have already been called a Butt, and I'm not liked.

Thanks to everybody who's reviewed, commented, favourited and everything.

Anyway, on with the chapter.

T.C

PS. I would like to wish my friend, Bryony, and Anton Yelchin a Happy Birthday. Bryony would've been 21 on Wednesday 8th, and Anton would've been 28 today (Saturday 11th). RIP to the both of you.

~oOo~

Chapter 11

Trying Not To Love You

POV – Derek

A new year, and the search for Stiles seemed to hit a dead end. The Skype call she put through to her father, Scott and Melissa was the only communication that could be electronically tracked, but even that turned up nothing. But I wasn't going to give up.

Peter had come back to report nothing new. That he was going to try Canada and Mexico, and if that didn't turn up anything, he was going to search different countries – like New Zealand, Australia and England. Something was different about him, but he was good at hiding, and I doubted that he was going to let anything slip; the sly, underhanded bastard that he was.

And leave it to Stiles to be able to hide herself so well. For somebody who was so loud and energetic, trust her to have the ability to be quiet when we really didn't want her to.

"How did she look?" I asked the Sheriff, laying back on the couch in his office. It had become a regular thing for me to be in his office while he worked. Being here was better than being alone.

"Honestly? She looked tired." He answered, "Maybe a bit of weight gain, but that's it really. And before you ask, she was very careful about what she said. Nothing she said gave any clues."

"I wasn't going to ask anything." I said, and he just fixed me with a hard stare, "Okay, I was going to ask. I just miss her so much."

"You don't think I miss her as well? She's the only family I have left – my wife is dead, I have no siblings, my father is dead to me – and she's out there on her own. We have no idea where she is. It could be years till I see her in person again." He got up and crouched in front of me, "She's a smart kid. She'll keep herself out of trouble. Give her time, and she'll come home when she's ready. But until then, we just have to keep on living." It looked like it pained him to say it, but his heart didn't betray him.

But she's in danger, I thought. Sparks give off their own aura, which tends to attract Supernaturals to them – just like werewolves and banshees. When, and if, a Sparks power reveals itself, their aura appears. Stiles had been safe while she was around so many other Supernatural beings, but now she's not, she might be attracting unwanted attention.

However we weren't telling the Sheriff that. He didn't need the worry or the hassle, about his already missing daughter being in more danger because she's a rare Supernatural being.

But he was right. She was smart, knew how the police worked like the back of her hand, and could keep out of trouble using all the skills at her arsenal. And if she knew about her abilities, that just worked in her favour, not ours.

"She's too smart for her own good." I mumbled, making the Sheriff chuckle and pat my shoulder.

~oOo~

Having gone back home, I went straight to the 'Missing Room,' as certain members of the Pack – namely Scott, who had wanted to call it the 'Crime Room' at first, had dubbed it.

I had taken to trying the 'Stiles Method' of dealing with things, and used one of the free rooms to erect a 'Murder Board' with all the information that we had collected over the past three months.

There was a map on one wall that Peter had been using to mark where he'd searched, balls of string in varying colours, highlighted papers, photos… Basically anything you could think of was somewhere in this room.

Peter was gone by the time I got back. He'd only been here for a week or two, and he was spending more time traveling then he had at home.

When I wasn't with the Sheriff, I had been spending a lot of time in here; just looking at her picture, or going over everything again. Some had said it was an obsession, but we all knew that we needed her back.

"Hey, Derek." Lydia opened the door, "We were going to get some take out. You should join us."

"Maybe in a bit." I turned away from her, and back to the board, "There's got to be something in here. There has to be."

"I'm sure there is, but it's not healthy to be spending nearly all your time in here. I don't think she would want you to get ill because of her." I raised my eyebrows at her, "You know what I mean."

She came to sit down next to me; pulling on one of the strings on her way. She sometimes did that to check if she could hear Stiles, or get a clue as to where she was hiding.

"I can't and won't, pretend to know how you feel, but locking yourself away in here is not going to help." She rubbed my back, "Maybe getting back into a routine will help you. Staring at these walls of information that you already know… It's going to drive you mad in the end."

Part of my brain didn't want to believe her, but the rational side knew that she was right. I was already being driven mad by these four walls, and I could probably recite every word written in this room.

"Why couldn't I just love somebody else? Why did it have to be her?"

"You can't help who you fall in love with."

"I know that, but why did it have to be her?" I asked, running a hand through my hair, "We have two different personalities. I'm sulky and sullen, and she's energetic and sarcastic. Who would've thought that she would end up being my Mate?"

"I don't think anybody would've predicted it, but, for the record, I think she's going to be good for you. I've seen the way you look at her, and anybody who says you don't care for her is a fool."

She left the room after that; leaving me with my thoughts, and vowing to come back in ten minutes if I wasn't downstairs by then. It seemed as though I had been left with my thoughts too many times in the past couple of months.

But now I just kept thinking that life would've been easier had I not come back to Beacon Hills or if a psychotic bitch and a delusional uncle hadn't murdered my family. Life would've been simpler if I'd never run into two stupid teenagers looking for an inhaler.

Now I had to deal with the feelings for somebody who wasn't here to hear them, and I was trying desperately trying not to feel them.