Disclaimer: Teen Wolf characters are not mine.

A/N: Woohoohoo. I am slightly sleep deprived and highly caffeinated. This is what nursing school does to a girl! Anyways, another chapter done. Boomskee. Also, stay tuned for a new character from the show to be added! I'm pretty excited. I just have to figure out how to write her authentically. Kudos if you can guess who she will be. I'll give you a hint: it's not Malia. Hah. Okay. Crazy rant over. Enjoy! Oh! Review? Please? I love reviews!

Derek shook me awake at four in the morning. Needless to say, I was not happy.

"De'rk," I complained, slow and muffled. "'S four in the mornin'."

"Really?" he replied, entirely too chipper for the time of day. "I hadn't noticed." God, I hated when he got that false enthusiasm in his voice. It meant something bad was coming.

"'M head hurts," I moaned, tipping back over and burying my face against the pillow. It was true. There were weird lancing pains behind my eyes. They zinged and receded randomly. It hurt.

Derek maneuvered me upright on the couch, shoving my limp arms into sleeves. A second later, his old sweatshirt settled over my head and torso, and I hummed in appreciation of the sudden warmth.

"Let's go," Derek said as he dragged me upright and marched me outside.

We drove down to the warehouse, which was cold and damp now that there was a gaping hole in the ceiling. I rubbed my arms, trying to keep warm despite already wearing Derek's sweatshirt. "Why are we here?" I complained, a little bit more awake now.

"You said you wanted to learn how to fight," Derek said with a smirk. He stripped off his jacket and set it aside. "I figure this is more productive than hitting some high school jock that won't even hit back.

I scowled, crossing my arms over my chest. Yeah, yeah, he didn't have to keep bringing that up. "Not at four in the morning," I groused. I swear, this was payback for ditching him to go to Lydia's house. Derek grinned, swinging his arms in front of his chest to loosen his shoulders.

"Come on," he wheedled. "It'll be fun."

"Fun for who?" I grumbled, not liking this situation one bit. He was probably about to beat the crap out of me. And he'd probably enjoy it. I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hand, willing the throbbing headache to go away.

Derek dropped a hand on my shoulder, making me jump. "You almost died," he said softly. "You almost died because you weren't in control. You rushed into a situation on instinct, and it almost got you killed. I can teach you how to fight, and I can teach you methods of control. But I can't make you want it, AJ. That's something you have to figure out for yourself."

My shoulders slumped, and he retracted his hand. "Okay," I huffed sullenly, realizing he was right. "How do we start?"

I regretted asking that question about two seconds later when Derek started attacking me. The ghouls I'd fought before were fast and strong, but they had been ridiculously goal-orientated and inexperienced. It had been easy to use that against them.

Derek was no such thing. He was strong, much stronger than me, but he was also experienced. He knew how to fight, knew how to counter my attacks and use my speed against me. After getting hammered in the jaw and ribs a few times by him, I stopped trying to attack and just focused on defending myself. I was faster than him, so I was able to avoid getting hit more often than not.

After a few minutes of dodging his hits and biding my time, Derek slowed the onslaught of blows and started circling me. He lashed out a foot in a blow that probably would have broken my knee, but I was already moving away from it. "Good," he breathed, "you're fighting smarter." His right hand shot out, and I used the heel of my hand to smack his forearm away, then I ducked, already anticipating the arc his other arm was going to make. It passed over my head, close enough that I could feel the air displacement. I popped back up, grabbed his extended arm near the shoulder, and slammed my knee into his ribs.

His elbow jerked back, nailing me just in front of my ear, and I stumbled away. My head ached from the blow, and the pain behind my eyes came back. I rubbed a forearm across them, willing the slight pressure to ease the pain away. It didn't. Derek took the opportunity to flick out his claws and slash at my stomach. I jumped backwards, rubbing my eyes harder with my bent wrist.

Derek lunged forward at me, hands reaching. I guess he was expecting me to move backwards, because suddenly he had a grip of my arm, and I was flying over his shoulder. I thought about grabbing his arm and using it to change my momentum, but I couldn't get myself to move fast enough. The floor rushed up at me, and I mentally prepared to smash into it. But it never happened. Derek reversed his grip mid-flight and grabbed a handful of sweatshirt, holding me an inch off the floor. Then he yanked me upright.

"Why didn't you turn?" he demanded. "You could have easily gotten out of that hold if you'd turned."

I gritted my teeth, pushing his annoying hand off my chest. He was right. I could've gotten free. I was faster when I turned, but I hadn't just then. I didn't know how to force it.

The pain behind my eyes flared and receded in an instant, and I gritted my teeth. Why hadn't I turned? Maybe I wasn't mad enough. "I'm not angry right now," I hissed, trying to ignore the aching. Usually when I was mad, or when I smelled the ghoul's rage, I could turn pretty easily.

Derek shook his head. "Anger isn't your anchor, AJ. Yes, it lets you turn, but you aren't in control when you use anger." He looked thoughtful for a second, rubbing his hand over his jaw. "Think about when you turned, not when the ghoul or full moon made you, but when you actually wanted to turn. What triggered it?"

I panted, suddenly tired now that we were no longer sparring. Resting my hands on my knees, I let out a shaky sigh. When I'd actually wanted to turn...that was a hard one. I tried to think back, but between the weird ache behind my eyes and my tired muscles, I couldn't come up with anything. I shook my head, shrugging my shoulders helplessly. "I don't know," I muttered spitefully.

"You're not concentrating," Derek said in a dark, dangerous way. I looked up at him again, fear prickling up my spine. I didn't like it when he got that tone. He took a step towards me, his eyes glowing a violent blue. He flicked his hands out at his side, and his claws grew. Alarm shot through me. This was different from our earlier sparring. This was new, and I didn't like the feel of it one bit.

When he took another step towards me, I backed up. "You have one job to do, AJ, and you can't even do it right. No wonder the ghoul keeps killing people. You're too stupid to stop it." I kept backing away, my steps faltering as pain hit me in the gut. He thought I was stupid?

The worst part, though? He was right. People kept dying. The guy in the store was the perfect example. I had been too late to save him. And I'd nearly gotten myself killed because I was too weak—too stupid—to beat the main ghoul.

Derek stalked forward slowly. "The ghoul is going to keep killing people, and it's going to be all your fault," he growled. My fault. It would be my fault. "It's going to kill Scott, once it's strong enough." No. Scott was kind. I didn't want him to die. "It's going to kill Peter. Kill me," Derek continued. No, no, no. I wanted him to stop talking. He was starting to unnerve me.

My back hit the wall, and I swallowed convulsively. Oh, who was I kidding? Unnerve me?

No.

Derek was scaring the shit out of me.

Pain twisted in my chest, because I'd thought that Derek...I don't know...kind of liked me. Tolerated me, at bare minimum. But clearly I was reading too much into the past week's behavior. "You're too weak to stop it, so it's going to kill Lydia," he said finally, only a few feet away now.

No.

No. I wouldn't let it.

Something much hotter than anger burnt through me, searing away my fear and hurt. No. The ghoul would not hurt my friends. Would not hurt Lydia.

I shook out my hands, feeling my claws grow and strength flood my body. "No," I spat, flinging myself at Derek.

This time, the fight was quick and dirty. Unlike the other times I'd turned, my brain was not hazy, and my vision was not red. The anger that usually drove my brawls was there, but it wasn't in control. I was in control.

Derek swung at me. I ducked under his arm, smashing a knee into his ribs, in the same place as before. But in the same move, I also spun away before he could retaliate. Speed. That was my advantage. I moved in again, using quick, surgical attacks. I was in and out before Derek could hit me back. Sometimes he blocked my slashes and strikes, but other times, I was just a hair too fast. Either way, not one of his blows landed on me.

I danced sideways, using the momentum of one of his swings to pivot myself behind him. Then I slashed four long cuts into his lower back. He threw back his head and roared in pain, spinning around faster than I thought he would have been able to. His right hand came flashing around, and I saw it coming, but I had overestimated my ability to maneuver this close to him. The claws were gone, though, so it was only his fist slammed into my face, sending me thudding to the floor.

I lay there, unable to move or even breathe for a long moment. The pain behind my eyes returned with a vengeance, and I thought I might like to die now.

Derek let out a huff of air, crouching by my side. This was it. He was going to do something horrible to me.

But the blue in his eyes faded. His hair facial hair receded, and his hands were just hands as he grabbed my arm. Putting one hand behind my elbow, the other clasping my hand, he pulled me up into a sitting position. "Jesus, AJ," he muttered, and then my pain faded quite rapidly.

I glanced woozily down at his wrist and, yes, there it was. The black veins were sliding from my wrist up into his. He was taking my pain. I didn't know why. From what he'd just said to me, I would have thought he despised me.

We stayed like that for a while, and when he finally pulled me to my feet and let go of my wrist, all that was left was the dull ache of my left eye swelling shut.

I shoved past him, taking slow, careful steps towards the exit. Derek trailed behind me. I could feel him hoovering, just an arm's reach away, in case I fell over or something. "I didn't mean it," he said softly, when we reached the doorway.

I said nothing as I climbed into the car, kind of knowing that was true. But, at the same time, some of his words were stuck in my mind. He hadn't meant them, in fact, he'd used them to manipulate me. To get me to understand my trigger. I knew what it was now. The single, burning desire to protect. Coyotes are loyal to the death. I didn't know if that was just who I was, or if it was a result of what I was. It didn't matter though.

It was my trigger, and what he'd said had succeeded in making me realize it. Yet, his words were stuck in my brain, because they were also somewhat correct.

The ghoul was targeting me now, that much was evident after visiting my room. So anything that happened from now on was partly on me. It was a lot to think about.

The silence was deafening during the car ride back.

Peter was waiting for us when we got back to the loft. Derek walked past him wordlessly, probably not in the mood to argue, and a second later, I heard the shower start.

I shifted from foot to foot nervously. I wanted to go to my room, but there was nothing in it. So I was stuck out here with Peter. Awesome.

"What happened to you?" Peter asked curiously, his eyebrows rising as he studied my face. His tone was weird, though, because it wasn't his normal, caustic snarkiness. It was...concerned? I didn't know him well enough to be sure.

I shrugged and looked at anything but Peter, just wanting him to stop staring at me. He didn't. Footsteps echoed closer and strong fingers tipped back my head, drawing it up and to the side, so Peter could see my eye.

"The ghoul?" Now he sounded concerned. I could definitely hear it.

"Derek," I finally admitted, and that must not have been what he wanted to hear, because Peter narrowed his eyes and turned his gaze towards the bathroom. As soon as he wasn't looking, I escaped to the kitchen.

I was hungry, I realized. Today was a protein shake day. I'd seen Derek mix one before, so I got out the powder and a cup. When it was ready, I stared at the green slop, trying to force myself to drink it. It wasn't very hard to come up with a whole bunch of reasons why I didn't need it anymore.

I pulled up the edge of my shirt and sweatshirt and ran my fingers over my ribs. They were depressingly easy to both see and feel. I let the material fall back into place, shoulders slumping. Resting my elbows on the counter, I propped my chin on my hand and looked at the shake.

"You're not seriously going to drink that, are you?" Peter asked from the doorway. "It smells revolting, even from here." He was right, it did, but his comment still annoyed me.

"Not as bad as your shoes did after I puked on them," I shot back, not bothering to hide my annoyance.

He grinned, walking to the refrigerator. "Feisty," he mused. "I like it." He shoo-ed me out of the way, and I sat down at the bar, watching with fascination as he pulled this and that from the fridge and cupboards. Potatoes were shredded and tossed into a skillet. Onions and peppers were diced and sent into a second pan. They started crackling as it heated up, and Peter pushed them around with a spatula.

He moved with ease, sprinkling things over the cooking foods and flipping the potatoes. Out came the eggs from the fridge, and they went into the pan with the onions and peppers. But Peter didn't mash them up and scoot them around like Derek did.

Eventually, he turned off the stove and stepped back, wiping his hands on the towel. The whole thing had taken less than ten minutes. "Help yourself," he said with a shrug, walking out without a backwards glance.

"I'm sorry," I called after him, just as he reached the doorway. He glanced over his shoulder, looking genuinely taken aback for a second. "For puking on your shoes," I clarified. "I didn't mean to." He'd made me food. I owed him an apology, at least, for ruining his fancy shoes.

Peter nodded slightly, still looking a bit surprised and walked out. I promptly lost interest in him, slipping off the stool and approaching the stove cautiously. Despite not really liking Peter, I was never one to turn down free food. Especially when the protein shake was the only other option.

I got out a plate and took some potatoes. They were grated thin and all crisscrossed together, so I just cut a little chunk and stuck it on my plate. Then I went over to the eggs. There were three, but they were perfect ovals, and they had the yolk in one piece. That was kind of cool. I took one but left the peppers and onions. I wasn't a veggie person.

Then I sat down at the bar and began to eat. It felt a little weird, because normally Derek and I ate at the same time, but I didn't care much, because I was in heaven. Food. God's great gift to man. I would have preferred a Twinkie, but this stuff was still amazing.

I was a little confused as to why Peter had gone to the trouble of making all the food if he wasn't even going to eat it. That didn't stop me from inhaling it, though.

Derek padded into the kitchen a few minutes later. A damp towel was still hanging around his neck, but he went straight to the stove, sniffing appreciatively. I slid off my stool quickly, taking my plate to the sink before he could say anything. Then I left, heading to the bathroom so I could shower before school started.

Derek and Peter were in the midst of a heated conversation when I finally got out. Only this time, I heard my name a couple times. I could have listened to them if I really wanted to, but I didn't. Instead, I brushed my teeth and grabbed my backpack out of my empty room. Then I slipped out the door, feeling like walking to school today was a probably good idea.

It was still a little cold out. The sun was coming up, but it didn't help much. Neither did my thin t-shirt. Since Derek's sweatshirt had smelled like sweat, I'd left it at the loft. I kind of regretted not having it now.

I fumbled my phone from my pocket, remembering that I probably shouldn't be out alone. Lydia picked up first ring, and I asked if she could give me a ride. She grumbled something about almost being at school already, but I could hear her turn the car around and accelerate.

When she pulled up ten minutes later, I was sitting on the curb. "Is something wrong with your eye?" was the first thing she asked as I climbed in the car. I put a hand up to it hurriedly, noting that it was still a little sore. But no, the swelling and bruising were almost completely gone.

"No," I lied.

"Why isn't Derek giving you a ride to school," she challenged. God, sometimes she was too smart for her own good.

"He's busy. Peter's at the loft," I said, feeling guilty for bringing up Peter. But, like I knew she would, Lydia gave a tiny shudder and went silent. She didn't like Peter. Out of all of us, she was the one who disliked him the most. I didn't know why, but I knew better than to ask.

Lydia didn't say much for the rest of the ride, and when we got to school, she hurried to her class. I dragged myself to mine.

I went through the day in a depressed haze. All I could think about were the words Derek had said. The ghoul was targeting me, which meant that any more people it killed or dug up from the graveyard were on me. It was making them to fight me, so it was my fault now. I was the one being too stupid to keep people from dying.

I didn't like that feeling. I liked it better when the only thing I'd had to worry about was not starving during the winters. Food. That reminded me of how good Peter's food had been this morning. Yeah, that was a nice thing to concentrate on. No more death, just food. Pain spiked behind my eyes, and I settled my head on my arms, thinking about twinkies and pancakes.

My Spanish teacher came by not two seconds later and rapped her knuckles on my desk. "Estás escuchando, AJ?" she asked primly. I didn't have to know Spanish to know what she was asking.

"Sí," I muttered, slouching low in my seat.

She frowned at me, tilting her head to the side. "Estás bien?" She looked concerned for a second, but I sat up straighter. Wait, I knew this. She was asking how I was, kind of. It was almost the same as saying "cómo estás?" I had practiced this conversation with Derek. The order was a bit different, but all I had to say was…

"Sí. Gracias por preguntar. Y tú?" Yes. Thanks for asking. And you? Hah. Take that Spanish Lady. Her eyebrows shot up, and she opened her mouth for a long second.

"Estoy bien. Gracias," she said faintly, looking like I'd just shocked her. "Muy bien, AJ. Muy bien."

I shrugged. "Quiero Taco Bell," I added rebelliously. She gave me a look, but she was still smiling, which let me know she wasn't too annoyed. I put my head back down on the desk, and this time she left me alone. At the end of class, though, she pulled me aside as I was sluggishly tromping out the door.

"Maybe you should head to the Nurse's office? Lay down for a little while," she offered. I stared at her blankly, amazed that she even knew how to speak English. Before I could react, she reached a hand out and set it against my forehead. "You don't feel hot, but I can tell you don't feel good. The Nurse's office is right down by the main office. Tell her I sent you."

I nodded and wandered off that direction, thinking anything had to be better than sitting in class today with a randomly appearing headache. Yeesh, I would have thought my whole healing thing would have taken care of it by now. I was never going to get high again. At least not if I could help it.

I found the Nurse's office. She clucked and muttered at me, fussing over how thin I was and how tired I looked. After a minute of asking me questions I couldn't answer, she shined a light in my eyes, just like Deaton had. Only this time, I flinched away but chose not to react. After that, she took my temperature and had me lay down on a cot. That part was nice, at least, since it meant she'd stopped touching me. She even gave me a blanket and turned the lights down low.

I didn't fall asleep, but I was close. The warmth and darkness were comforting, and it made my eyes hurt less. Once settled inside the blanket, I closed my eyes and focused on blocking out all the sounds. I weeded the background noises out one by one, eventually lingering over the last one. It was sound of the nurse's heart. It was soft and rhythmic, and it made things simple. But eventually, I stopped listening to that as well.

Time passed. I didn't know how much. It was nice, not thinking or hearing or seeing anything. I was warm, and everything was muted. I breathed in and out slowly, reveling in the calm of it all. This, this was what I missed about the woods. The utter tranquility of being alone and free. It was peaceful, and it made me realize how much I didn't have that anymore.

A while later, a knock on the door roused me. The nurse got up from her workstation, and she opened the door. I kept my eyes closed, unwilling to look at the light streaming in from the opening.

"He came in a little after fourth period," she said in a hushed tone. "He doesn't have a fever, doesn't seem sick, though his eyes are a little sensitive to light. Hasn't said a word, hasn't eaten, hasn't complained about anything. I just...I don't know what's going on with him. That's why I called."

Ultra soft footsteps came closer, and a hand touched my wrist. It was warm and big, and I already knew who was here. The hand clasped in a familiar way, just like it had this morning, but there was no pain to take. It withdrew just as quickly. "Come on," was all he said.

I opened my eyes, squinting against the new brightness. Then I got up and folded the blanket carefully, politely handing it back to the nurse before I filed out of her office after Derek.

In the car, I stared out the window, watching house after house go by. Derek might have said something, but if he did, I missed it. Either way, he didn't push, didn't demand that I tell him my thoughts or feelings. It was yet another thing to add to the growing list of inconsistencies between him, the Eichen House, and Henry.

Yet, at the same time, I was having trouble rectifying his behavior now with the words he'd said this morning. It just didn't make sense.

I was about to seek clarification when the smells hit me. We were only a minute away from the loft, and we weren't alone. Death, death, death. It made my head spin.

Derek slammed on the brakes, which meant he'd smelled it too. Though, that wasn't the only reason we were stopping, I discovered. Lying in the road, about twenty feet from the car, was a man. His legs were obviously broken, and he looked strangely like me from this angle, but he was still alive. I could smell his pain, could smell his...well, urine. But I didn't care. He was alive, and I had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen next if I just left him be.

There was a flicker of movement in the alley up ahead, confirming my suspicions. I unbuckled, reaching for the door handle. "Don't," Derek warned, craning his head as he scanned our surroundings. I knew why he said it. He'd assessed the situation and come to the same conclusion as I had a few seconds ago. This was a trap.

But his earlier words echoed back again. Your fault.

No. Not this time.

Derek's hand shot out, reaching for the back of my shirt, but I was already slamming out of the car and sprinting towards the downed man. This was a game for the ghoul. Leave the bait, see what happens. But I was faster than it was. I could do this.

I reached the man and had already started dragging him back to the car when the first party of ghouls came boiling out of the alleyway. Now that I was out in the open, I could smell seven of them. Three were beyond fresh, but four were more revolting, more ripe. The two coming at me from the alley were of the fresh variety, and they didn't stand a chance.

I let go of the man, halfway to the car. The first ghoul rushed me, and I used his momentum to fling him behind me. It was a risky tactic, putting him at my back, but I'd already decided my next move.

My claws came out effortlessly, now that I knew both what my trigger and my anchor was, and I shredded the second ghoul's throat as he came at me. It didn't take long, didn't cost me more than a few painful blows to the stomach and chest. It went down, and I spun, ready to engage the first one.

It came flying towards me, grabbing me in a way that took us both down. As we fell, I twisted, so that I didn't end up on bottom. Slamming onto my hip felt horrible, but I was able to lever myself up onto my knees and lean over the ghoul. It buried its teeth in the side of my wrist, and I buried my claws in its throat. Then it was just a simple slice-and-dice.

Far behind me, I heard the noise of a fight. A quick glance revealed Derek taking on two of the more ripe ghouls. They were older and had more experienced than the others, but even as I watched, Derek flung one a good fifteen feet away.

I turned my attention back to the man lying in the street, only getting him four more feet before the next wave of ghouls came. This time was different, though. Of the three ghouls, one was fresh and two were ripe. The ripe ones ignored me, skirting around towards Derek's position. The fresh one stayed put, lurking just outside my range. I lunged forward a step, and it backed up a step. I backed up a step, and it moved forward. A holding pattern.

I flung a glance over my shoulder, realizing Derek was now taking on four ghouls at a time. Not good, that was very not good. I turned back to the ghoul near me, realizing it hadn't moved. It was waiting...waiting to see what I'd do.

I looked down at the man on the ground, realizing I had to make a choice. Him or Derek.

Behind me, Derek let out a pained roar. I shifted hesitantly, alarms blaring in my mind, and I honestly did not know what to do. If I left this man, the ghoul would eat him or convert him. If I didn't leave him, the same might happen to Derek.

A flicker of movement caught my eye, and I jerked my gaze up to look at a random window of a warehouse across the street. There he was—the main ghoul. The bastard. He was just standing there, waiting to see what I would do.

I looked back at Derek, seeing blood starting to stain the shoulder of his shirt as he grappled with one of the ghouls. Another came up behind him, and he was sent flying into the side of the car before falling to the ground. Then I looked back down at the man. He whimpered, clutching at my pant leg. "Please," he whimpered. "Please don't leave me."

I tilted my head back, hating this situation, and an anguished howl rose into the air.

Then I made my choice.