"WAKE ME UP BEFORE YOU GOGO-"

Nothing is beautiful and everything hurts. I whine, deep in my throat, ripped from sleep, and my entire body makes its disapproval of my awakening known. Everything is sore, and my shoulder aches from Scott's scratches, and my face feels hot and throbs.

But the alarm must not be ignored.

An arm reaches over me.

"We're not running," Derek says, voice rough with sleep and close to my ear, and I wonder why he's here, half turning to the source of his voice. "Don't argue. Go back to sleep." The alarm shuts up, but the arm remains around my waist, heavy and warm and pulling me close against him. I should argue. I really should argue. But little by little my pains are seeping away, and the blankets are comfortable, and Derek's warm, and it's so much easier to just melt into him, and just fade back…


Scott's already gone by the time my second alarm goes off.

"He'll be fine," Derek says, reapplying medicine and gauze on my cuts, because Melissa is still asleep and I don't want to have to come up with some lie to explain what happened. I had taken a shower earlier, and kinda sorta pulled one open again and it was not fun, let me tell you. It looked like a shitty Psycho remake.

"But he's probably being super depressed and mopey and guilty and -"

"Good," Derek mutters, and I narrow my eyes at him. And he does this thing. With his face. His eyes go wide, and his brows go up, and his expression is soft and open and-That fucker. He's playing innocent. Like Stiles does, but Derek actually knows how to use his face muscles when he actually decides he wants to be expressive and doesn't look like a complete idiot.

He looks fucking adorable.

I scowl at him. "You're not cute-ing your way out of this," I tell him, and as quickly as the innocence appeared it disappears, replaced with an unbothered expression as he presses the last bandage in place, smoothing it down gently.

"Worth a try."

"Asshole werewolf," I mutter, slipping around him to get to my closet, where my collection of sweaters and sweatshirts are hidden away. Asshole werewolf that saved my life last night. That make me have feelings. (That might be requited, but we'll talk about that later.) That wants to use Scott as bait to draw out the Alpha so they can kill it.

What bullshit.

"Can you tell?" I ask, pulling a sweatshirt on over my undershirt and looking down to see if the bandages are visible under it. It doesn't bulge where the bandages are, but I look to Derek anyway. He steps up, mischief in his eyes, and gives it a once over before reaching out. He picks at my shoulders, lifting the sweatshirt up a bit and adjusting it just barely to the side. I can't help but roll my eyes.

"You're good," he says.

"Thank you."

"Your face is bruised though," he goes on as if I didn't speak, and I groan, throwing my head back. Because yes, I noticed my bruised face. It formed sometime during the night, a bullseye of black and purple on my right cheek that expands to the outside of my eye and down my jaw a bit. The skin didn't break, and the swelling isn't too noticeable, which is a blessing, but it's sore, throbbing beneath the skin. And my face isn't the only place the bruises have popped up. My leg where Scott dug his claws in has five dark pinpricks, and most of my right side has a smattering of purple and blue from when I had landed when Scott tackled me.

It's all very unpleasant, and I might develop a dependency on tylenol - can that even happen? - before the day is over, because Derek can't be around all day to siphon the pain away.

"I am aware of my bruised face." I crinkle my nose at him, and it pulls at my cheek, and a weaker woman would have reacted to the pain. "I'm aware of my bruised everything."

And I want nothing more than to stay home, to stay in bed after downing more Nyquil than recommended. But work is a thing that needs to happen because money is a thing that needs to be made.

Derek is quiet for a moment, his eyes searching. "Does it hurt much?" he asks, gesturing, and his hand brushes my hair back a bit so he can see it better. His expression is… curious, almost, and I can't help but wonder if he's ever been hurt like this before. Like sure, he's been hurt- shit, the guy was shot and poisoned and fought with Scott at least twice that I know of. But I wonder if he's been hurt, and stayed hurt. If a bruise has lasted for longer than a few hours for him. Does that happen for werewolves?

A prolonged, minor hurt that stays for days after before finally fading away.

I give a weak shrug and manage to not pull the bandages free. His fingers brush my cheek, just barely, and his touch, usually warm, feels cool against the bruise.

"I'll spend my day eating Tylenol like M&Ms," I tell him and he scowls. "You can always try kissing it better," I say without thinking. Because that's the kinda snarky ass thing I'd say to Sonya or Warren or even Alicia and Aaron. My face heats when I realize what I just said, and he arches a brow.

"Kiss it better?" he drawls, pulling back some, but leaving his hand where it is. I swallow, and because I might as well own it, I nod, looking up at him expectantly.

"What, werewolf kisses don't make everything better-"

He leans down and kisses the worst bit of the bruise, on my cheek bone. It's soft, his lips on the warm skin, and they stay a second longer than they have any right to.

And my heart has stopped working.

He pulls back, and I stare up at him in shock as he watches my expression. I can feel my entire face flare with heat, and I can't imagine the shade of red I am.

"Better?" he asks, and his voice is smug. So fucking smug. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. It's pay back, I realize. Karma. For when I kissed him Saturday.

"You're an asshole," I manage to croak, before dipping past him, and he laughs. That fucker laughs. "I hate you."

"So not better," he decides, following me out the room. "I can try again," he offers lightly.

And as much as I want him to do just that, I force myself to flee down the stairs. Because if he tries again I will die. Be deceased, and Derek Hale would have accomplished what the Alpha has failed twice - three times if you consider Scott's first game - already.

Fucking werewolves. Assholes, the whole lot of them.


Deaton is understandably alarmed when I walk in with my face looking like I scorpioned on the track. Which is exactly what I tell him happened.

"Don't you usually go with Derek Hale?" he demands, and for the first time since I've met him he sounds not at all like his usually pacifist self. I can't help but draw back to look at him better, because wow. Alan Deaton has more to offer than I thought.

"Derek Hale didn't do anything to make me fall on my face," I tell him, and he doesn't seem convinced as he steps forward to examine the bruise. I huff, but let him tilt my face into the light so he can see it better. "They left a hurdle out on the track this morning, and I wanted to see if I could clear it," I lie.

"A hurdle?"

"A hurdle," I repeat. "I did middle-distance running in highschool, but I dabbled in the hurdles a couple times." I shrug. "If it'll make you think better of Derek, just know he freaked out really hard when I didn't immediately get back up."

And that's only half a lie. Because Derek did absolutely freak out when this happened.

Deaton seems content that my tripas aren't going to come spilling out, but goes on to ask, "You didn't hear ringing, feel dizziness, nausea?" he asks, and as much as I want to roll my eyes, I stop myself. "You didn't tell Melissa?"

"She was still asleep, I didn't want to bother her." And it feels nice that I don't have to lie about that. "I promise I'll tell you if I start to feel bad. Promise."

He regards me for a moment, and I hope against all hope that he doesn't notice that these bruises are darker than they should be for supposably being caused an hour ago. That he doesn't notice the gauze on my shoulder.

"The dogs need to be let out," he says finally, and I break into a smile wide enough that it hurts my face.


Derek texts about an hour before my lunch break. It catches me by surprise, and Deaton pretends to be very interested in the prescription for an overweight cat so I can read and reply to him.

Derek
What're you doing for lunch
(D)
Granola bar, my dude
(A)
That's stupid.
(D)

I draw back, huffing in annoyance. Deaton glances up.

"Derek's a stupid face," I say, and he nods in acknowledgment.

Wow, okay thanks
(A)
I'm bringing you food
What do you want
(D)
You don't have to bring me food
(A)
I know I don't have to.
I want to.
Just answer the question because you're getting food either way
(D)

"Is Derek no longer a stupid face?" Deaton asks, almost slyly, and I look up at him. "You're smiling now."

I look down at my phone, and struggle to straighten my face. "He's a different kind of stupid face," I decide.

Wow. You're so romantic
(A)
I try
What do you want
(D)
Bring me…
Your second favorite thing
(A)
My second favorite thing
(D)
Yes. Your second favorite thing.
My break is at 12:45
(A)


12:50 sees Derek and me sitting in the open back of the Turtle with two cartons of takeout Chinese and two glass bottles of Mexican Coke between us.

"What's that?" Derek asks, pointing his fork at the Marine tan hiking bag tucked in the far corner of the open space of the back. I crinkle my nose.

"Ah, yes, that." I hold my carton of orange chicken and rice out to Derek, who takes it so I can grab the bag and try to lug it over into my lap. "Holy shit, it's heavier than I remember," I gasp, and Derek arches a brow. "Nope, that's staying there," I decide, shoving it back into place, and Derek snorts his laughter. I make to grab the food back from him, but he pulls it back.

"What do you have in there, bricks?"

I stick my tongue out at him. "Aaron made me take it. It's my zombie apocalypse survival bag."

"Your what?"

I roll my head back. "Bug-out bag, Derek Hale. You know, with a first aid kit, spare phone battery, knife, couple bottles of water, set of clothes…" I trail off at the look on his face. Like he's never seen a survivalist show before. "Um. Aaron was in the military," I say in way of explanation. "And he came back kinda survivalist." Derek nods slowly, and I can tell he's thinking that he must never meet Aaron if he can avoid it. "Anyway, just know I got us covered if the world ends."

He smiles, and hands over my food when I make grabby hands for it. "I'll be sure to come looking for you when the dead start to rise."

"Do you think you'd turn into a zombie if you got bit by one?" I ask before I can stop myself. The look he gives me is one of pure confusion before it shifts into one of contemplation. "Like. Can a werewolf turn into a zombie? Would you turn into a super werewolf zombie?"

"Where do you come up with these questions?" he asks, and I shrug.

"I'm an inquisitive person."

We fall into a comfortable silence, and before long I find my mind wandering back to last night. To Scott's eyes. How it wasn't really Scott at all. I rub at my shoulder absentmindedly, frowning at my food.

"Hey." I look up to see Derek leaning over a bit. "You alright?" I nod once, and it feels like a lie. And apparently asshole werewolf powers detect lies. "Ares."

"I just…" I set the carton to the side and shrug. "Last night really fucking sucked." Derek lets out a breath and puts his food away. "Scott isn't gonna wanna be around me."

"He tried to kill you," Derek reminds me.

"It wasn't him though. It was the alpha." I look up to him, remembering his solution to Scott's problem. "What will happen after you guys get rid of the Alpha?" I ask. His expression closes off and he looks away, and I'm reminded of how I suspected he was hiding something last night. About the whole killing the alpha thing. "What happens when you kill the Alpha?"

"Don't worry-"

I draw back and glare at him, because I am not in the mood for his nonsense. "Don't you 'don't worry' me, Derek Hale," I tell him, and he blinks in surprise. "You can't keep things to yourself, dude! Especially since things are getting so much more… murderous."

He looks like he wants to argue, and I don't care how much he makes my heart happy, I will still punch him in the face. And I think he can tell this, because he lets out a long suffering sigh, rolling his head to the side.

"There…" he gathers his thoughts, tries to figure out the best way to word what he's thinking. "There'll be a shift in power," he says carefully.

"A what now?" I ask, because that sounds very… Game of Thrones. And I can't live through another Red Wedding. My heart won't survive it.

"To kill the alpha," he starts, watching my expression as he speaks, "is to become the alpha. The power passes over."

I stare at him as I process the words. "You'll… you'll be the Alpha?" I ask, unsure of how to feel about that. Alpha has a bit of a negative connotation for me, not that anyone can blame me. Derek looks away.

"There isn't any other way, Ares," he says. "We can't let it run around killing people anymore, controlling Scott." Almost killing you is left unsaid, but understood. "And Scott couldn't handle it. He wouldn't even be able to go through with the kill," he goes on, and it's true. Not to mention the idea of Scott running around with that kind of power is just… incomprehensible. But Derek. He's been a werewolf his whole life. He could. Maybe.

But it doesn't sit well with me. Because we're at a good place. Unspoken, but requited. And if Derek were to change

He reaches out and pulls my hand into his own. I let him, looking down, unable to meet his gaze. "It's the only way to get rid of it."

I inhale, and Derek's expression is sincere, almost pleading when I look up at him. "I know," I say. "I know, it's just…" I hesitate. "You'll still be you, right?"

His expression warps in shock. "Ares…"

I pull my hand out of his, feeling like the worst human. "That was a stupid question," I mutter, ducking my head.

"Not completely stupid," he allows, and I glance up at him. "I'll still be me, Ares," he promises. He offers a smile. "Especially when I know the minute I start acting like an asshole you'll come at me with your taser."

I sigh. "If I must." I pause, crinkling my nose at him. "I mean, you're already saying I act like Scott's alpha already," I tell him, and he makes a face as I go on. "I'm sure I can give you some tips and trick to keeping him in line." He rolls his eyes, but he's fighting off a relieved smile. "You're gonna have to tell him the truth about it first, though."

And his expression immediately darkens, his brow furrowing in annoyance. Rather than answer, he grabs his food and stabs a shrimp with his fork, as if he wishes it were Scott's neck instead. I hold back a laugh at his melodramatic attitude before reaching for my own food.

"So, will you get red anime eyes instead of blue anime eyes?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

"That's usually how it works," he says, and doesn't seem quite as annoyed. I hum, frowning. "What?"

I make a face at him. "I like your eyes the way they are," I admit. His expression goes blank before warping into a scowl.

"I don't," he mutters, and there's a story behind that. But he's edging the line toward a bad mood, and I'm not about to deal with that right now.

"All I wanna do is see you turn-"

I frown as I fish my phone out of my pocket, and huff when I see that it's Stiles. Derek makes a face when he notices the caller. I shrug at him before swiping to answer and putting it on speaker, because eating requires two hands.

"Ares-!"

"You're on speaker and Derek is sitting here, think before you speak," I say cutting him off. There's a second of silence before:

"Why the hell is Derek there?"

"Is there a reason you're calling?' I demand, and Stiles huffs. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

"Study hall. I'm in the bathroom," he explains. "Anyway, I needed to make sure you were alive. Scott said something happened after I left, and he was crying to Allison that you two got into a fight? He isn't talking about it." Derek and I exchange looks. "Did something really happen after I left?"

"It's not that big of a deal. I'm fine. Derek was with me," I say, waving my hand dismissively despite knowing he can't see it. Derek scowls, but doesn't say anything.

"Right well," Stiles drawls. "That sounds like a lie."

"Your face is a lie," I snap, and it really isn't one of my best comebacks. Derek, knowing this, snorts, almost choking on his food.

"Rude!"

"Is there anything else you need?" I ask, holding my carton out to Derek, who takes a piece of orange chicken before offering me a shrimp from his own box. "You're gonna get in trouble."

"I'll be fine- Oh!" he exclaims. "Yes! I meant to call you last night, but I ended up passing out before I could, and then I forgot this morning and-"

"Stiles."

"Two bodies were found last night," he says in a rush, and Derek's head snaps up.

"Are you kidding me right now?" I demand, throwing my head back. "Where?"

Stiles lets out a nervous laugh. "That's the thing. They were found at the park. Where we went Sunday night. And I'm pretty sure they're the same guys that threatened you-"

Derek's eyes narrow. "What."

Oh. Shit.

"Stiles, shut up!" I exclaim - because honestly what part of think before you speak does he not understand? -, reaching down to grab my phone, but Derek snatches it away before I have a chance.

"What guys?" Derek demands, and Stiles is silent on the other end.

"I think I'm going to hang up now."

"Stiles-" Derek snarls, only to be met with a quick "Sorry, Ares" and the line is cut off. Derek growls in annoyance before looking to me. "What guys?" I roll my head back and reach for my phone. He pulls it away. "Ares."

"A couple of assholes were trying to scare Jackson and Stiles," I tell him. "I told them to fuck off or I'd call the sheriff."

This does nothing to placate him. "They threatened you?" he demands, and his voice comes out with a trace of a growl, that, while I know isn't towards me, I could do without.

"They didn't do anything. Scott scared them off and we left and no one was hurt," I assure him. He doesn't seem convinced. "Besides. Apparently they're dead now, which is horrible, but…" I shrug, unsure of how to feel about the whole thing. "Can I have my phone back now?"

Derek shakes his head, but holds my phone back out. "You need to stop getting into these things, Ares."

"I did nothing," I tell him, making a point to look at him, because I'm really getting tired of people assuming my getting into these situations is my fault. Pulling up my messages, I type away to Stiles, because obviously there's more to these dead guys than he got to say.

Does you think the dead guys from the park are related to the Alpha?
(A)
They must be. They've been dead since sunday night, only just found last night
One was slashed up like the bus driver and guy from the movie place. The other guy was thrown in the fire we made. Still alive, most likely
(S)

"Jesus," I mutter, pushing my phone away and closing my carton of food, appetite spoiled. "I'm done," I decide, and hold it out to Derek. "Want mine?"

He shakes his head, eyeing my phone. "What'd he say?"

I shudder, shaking my head. "They're probably the alpha's doing. It wasn't… pleasant." I hand my phone off so he can read the message, and twirl my fork in my hand as I think.

This stupid asshole Alpha is dead set on getting Scott to join his pack. Plus the fact that it's only just been active-it must be new, right? So it must have killed another alpha… I look up at Derek, brow furrowing as I try to recall our conversation about his family. Laura had been last in line to be the Alpha. She had been Derek's Alpha.

"What?" he asks, noticing me. I almost don't want to ask. "Ares?"

"Did… Did the alpha kill your sister?"

"Oh." He doesn't answer immediately, and it's answer enough.

"I'm sorry," I say. Derek shakes his head.

"You're fine." He pauses. "I think she was looking into what happened to the house. To our family."

I frown. "I thought you said the Argents did it."

"There was no proof." He glares out into the parking lot. "It was ruled as an electrical fire. Laura wanted to know the truth. She came to find out, I think." He looks back to me. "The article I showed you. With the deer. Someone had sent it to her."

It takes a moment to process it all, because this is the most open Derek has been about everything since everything started. A part of me feels kinda… honored? But also horrified, because this Alpha fucking lured Laura Hale to her death.

"The Alpha." I narrow my eyes. "Seriously, fuck that guy," I snap. "I can't wait for you to get your red glowy eyes."

He doesn't answer, but his expression lightens. And that's good for me.


I'm baaack! Thanks for baring this wait (ha) with me, and now that I have some time, I'll be working on this a bit more again.

Shout out to those who jumped in and faved/followed during this little break, as well as those who left reviews! Those are always great and I really appreciate hearing what you guys think. (on that thought, question: do you guys by chance have a faceclaim for Ares? Bc i lowkey don't really, and am just curious as to what you guys might picture of her.)

Welp. It's kinda late, im dying, and i haven't much else to say other than I appreciate y'all.

Stay schway my dudes