Chapter 10: The Date

She shook uncontrollably while driving. The pent up panic now released into chemicals crashing her bloodflow. Blood. It reeked in her car, a tangent iron that made her gag. It was worse than fake blood, it was real. Probably pig's blood, she knew a lot of movies used pig's blood. It was easier to get large amounts of it rather than make a realistic batch of fake blood themselves. The interior of her car was coated with pig's blood.

Her curls lay stiffly plastered to her face. She glimpsed at herself in the mirror. If she was pulled over she could just claim to be a stunt double for the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. It looked unreal. It still felt unreal.

Fake. Only explanation. Derek faked a life threatening injury, again, and she could not pinpoint why. He and Jimmy had to be working together, it made a lot of sense. It explained why the car hadn't run Derek over the other night. How Derek knew she would be at the video store. Not that she understood why he was after her, or if it was even her he was after, but the coincidences kept lining up.

"No hospital," she muttered grimly to herself and let out a disgusted laugh. Only idiots in movies said things like that. Or criminals.

And idiots like her listened.

She almost missed the first siren, too engrossed in her own thoughts, but quickly pulled over when it was followed by half a dozen others. Ambulances and police cars rushed past her, heading towards Beacon Hills High School. Ice formed in her veins, an unpleasant lump in her stomach. Had there been an actual animal attack? She and Jimmy never called for help, but someone obviously had.

"Screw it," she muttered and wrenched her car back onto the road to follow the emergency vehicles. By the time she caught up with them, choosing a legal speed limit as she was still trembling, a whole crowd of first-responders were fanned out in front of the school's main entrance. A lot of officers with dogs walked the premises, obviously searching for something — or someone. At the steps, EMTs were wrapping a small group of people in shock blankets. Even at this distance she recognized a pair of them.

"Scott?" she whispered to herself, then tore out of her car. "Scott!"

He heard her just as she began sprinting towards him and threw her arms around his neck. She both heard and felt the air oof out of his lungs.

"Scott, oh my God, are you okay?" she asked and pulled back to look at him, again a vague feeling of deja vu washing over her. He looked to be in one piece. Rattled. Scared. But not hurt. She hugged him again. "Oh thank God."

At her drive from Jimmy's apartment, her mind went non-stop in producing theories as to Derek's involvement/interest/obsession with Scott. Seeing him alive and well had at least disproven some of her worst fears.

"I'm fine, Joe, we're fine," Scott mumbled and then put her at arm's distance. His eyes were wide and filled with fear. "What are- Joe, are you okay?"

The blood. Too late, Joe realized she had ran straight into a huddle of policemen and EMTs covered in pig's blood. She could give up Derek right there, if she wanted, press charges for harassment or stalking or something. Instead, she said: "It's fake. I got hit by a senior prank at Berkely. I was- I was just going home to shower when I saw the lights and I..." She shook her head, rubbing self-consciously at the stains. "Nevermind that, what happened here?"

Stiles was on the steps next to Scott and temporarily looked away from the policemen scouring the lacrosse field. "Derek Hale."

Joe's breath halted. "What?"

Scott took a deep breath and looked away from her. "Derek. He...he killed the janitor."

Pig's blood. It has to be pig's blood. It couldn't be...no.

"What?" Joe asked again with eyes so wide it strained the skin on her forehead. "A-are you sure?"

"Yes! Yes, I'm sure!" Scott snapped, as if he had been asked that a thousand times already. He gestured between him and Stiles. "We both saw him!"

Joe trembled, now aware she was only wearing a t-shirt in the cold California winter, and that her arms, fingers, face, car — everything was coated in the blood of the janitor.

"I gotta go!"

Not stopping to hear what they were shouting, she ran back to her car. Scott's words went on repeat inside her head. Derek Hale killed the janitor. The blood wasn't Derek Hale's. It wasn't fake. It wasn't from a pig. It was from a dead man, a man Derek killed, a cover-up from Derek to get away from the scene. And she had left Jimmy behind with him.

At record speed, she was back at the laundromat and pushed all the buttons on the intercom system. Someone buzzed her in and she took two steps at a time to get up to Jimmy's door.

"Jimmy!" she shouted and banged with a closed fist. The other fist clutched her taser, ready for use in case someone else opened the door. "Jimmy!"

Click, click, click. All the locks opened and Jimmy Carter, alive and seemingly unharmed, opened the door and ushered her in. "Will you lower your voice, Delgado, you're gonna get the landlord on my tail."

"Oh thank God!" she breathed again and enveloped Jimmy in a hug. He smelled vaguely of chamomile tea. He stiffened at her embrace and had a disturbed look on his face as she pulled away, bending over double to get her breath back. "I thought I- I thought he- I thought you might be dead." She looked up and scanned the apartment. "Is he here?"

"No, he left a literal second after you did," Jimmy said and put all the locks back into place behind her. "Without a word of gratitude, might I add."

"I'm so sorry, I never should have left you alone with him," she said and stumbled forward to collapse into one of his armchairs that was part of a larger sitting group facing a large television on the wall. She glanced over at the dining table, empty, except from the tattered remains of a dark, blood stained t-shirt. Unable to look away, she said: "He killed the janitor at the school."

Jimmy paused his ministrations at the kitchen, probably making tea, and made a contemplative sound. "Hm."

"The police are looking for him. We should call it in."

"They won't find him either way," Jimmy said and Joe swivelled the chair to face him. He had indeed made two cups of tea and gave one to Joe, who cupped her fingers around it to regain some warmth. Jimmy's eyebrows were raised as he studied her. "You know what he is, right?"

Joe remained impassive. "I don't believe in-"

"Okay, okay, fine," Jimmy said hurriedly. Whatever he had seen in Joe's eyes, he hadn't liked it. "Doesn't matter. I don't think Derek killed the janitor. It doesn't fit."

"Doesn't fit with what? He was covered in someone else's blood! Scott and his friends saw him do it!"

Jimmy sat in the other armchair, bushy brows locked in contemplation. "They saw Derek Hale kill the janitor? How?"

"With their eyes, probably?"

"No, how did he kill him? Gunshot? Knife? With his bare hands?"

"I didn't..." Joe trailed off. Had Scott said he had seen Derek kill the janitor or just that they had seen Derek at the school and then found the janitor? "I didn't ask. I don't know. Why are you so sure he didn't?"

It took some time before he answered, prioritizing sipping at his tea in silence. When he did, he sounded like he had made his mind up about something. "How much do you know about the case?"

Joe had no patience for conspiracies tonight and she made it very clear when she frowned. Between the heart attack, Derek's pretend near-death, seeing Scott, hearing about the murder...

"Enough," she bit out in the end. She wanted to go home. She wanted to shower, cry, change clothes, and lock herself in her room for a few days.

Jimmy put his empty cup on the side table and got up. "You know who Laura Hale is?"

"Derek Hale's dead sister," Joe answered and swung her chair again to keep Jimmy in her line of focus. "Who he was suspected of killing."

Jimmy fiddled with something near the TV, and then pulled down a large canvas covering the entire wall. Pictures, maps, post-its, all connected with multi-colored string. Joe stared — she knew he had one of these, she just knew it — but did not dare to get up. It was massive, and judging from what she could make out, spanned across several years of research.

"Laura was Derek's sister," Jimmy agreed and pointed to a picture that looked to be from a high school yearbook. A pretty dark-haired girl with bright green eyes. "And the only other Hale-kid alive after the house fire. She and Derek was at the school when the fire broke out, late night extracurriculars."

"Okay, and? What does this have to do with Derek killing the janitor or not?"

"Do you see this list here?" Jimmy pointed to another part of the map. It looked to be a print-out from some kind of police record. "All of them are known arsonists residing in Beacon Hills at the time of the fire." Joe got up from her chair slowly, peering at the list. Two of them were highlighted in red. Jimmy pointed to the top one. "That's the video store clerk." The next: "That's the bus driver and..." He got out a red marker and crossed another name off the list. "That's the janitor."

"You're saying someone is working through a hit list to avenge the Hale House fire? This does not exactly help Derek's case."

"That's the thing," Jimmy said and stood back to look at his handiwork. "Derek doesn't know about this list. He doesn't know these names."

"What, he told you that?"

"No. Laura Hale did."

Derek Hale's police sketch glared at her from the computer screen when she entered the Beacon Post website. It was all over the news now. Wanted for questioning related to the disappearance of George Hall, last seen at work at Beacon Hills High School. Disappearance, not murder. They had still not found the body.

Joe sat back in her computer chair and glared at a plastic bag tucked away in the corner of her room. All her clothes from the other night. Covered in what she still presumed to be the janitor's blood. If she could get it to a lab, they would be able to confirm it based on blood type analysis or DNA. It would lead to more questions for her though. Probably her dad would need to get involved. Or her uncle.

Jimmy Carter said Derek had not killed anyone. Scott said he had. Joe blew air out her mouth and stared at the ceiling. Scott. He had unwittingly followed her lead and locked himself in his room for the past couple of days. Both her and Aunt Mel had tried talking to him, but he was non-responsive. From the little Aunt Mel had been able to gather, it had something to do with the girl he had been seeing. Had. Combining that with possible trauma from being locked in the school with a deranged killer, they decided he needed some space. It meant fewer answers for Joe, though.

If Scott knew all along that Derek was a killer, why had he continued to make contact with him? Did Derek have anything on Scott? Steroids, sure, but it was hardly a serious criminal offence. It would get Scott kicked off the stupid lacrosse team though.

She spun the chair around, sighing deeply. Nothing made sense. Apart from the Hale Arson Conspiracy, of course, as explained by Jimmy Carter the same night of the janitor's disappearance. The bus driver used to be an insurance investigator, specializing in fire damage. He'd been let off not that long after the Hale House fire, apparently suspected of fraud. The other two dead or missing were known arsonists in Beacon County. At Jimmy's, she had read their police files. They had not seemed like men equipped to conspire to anything. Arsonists were not known for their cooperative personalities or their ability to plan ahead.

Jimmy filled in this missing piece of the puzzle, but only with a blank name tag. "Mister X", he had called him, was the one actually responsible for the whole thing. No motive (apart from Jimmy's paranormal theory), no name, nothing more than a hunch that a ring leader was pulling the strings of a lot of arsonist puppets.

Laura Hale had apparently read his blog and contacted him to exchange information. He would help her, in return for the exclusives of publishing a book or something about the events after justice had been served. They did not get that far before Laura disappeared and then re-appeared in pieces out at the Beacon Hills Preserve.

A knock on the door jolted Joe out of her own thoughts. "Yes?"

Aunt Mel peered inside, her whole demeanor gentle and calm. "Hey. I'm leaving for work now." Joe nodded to indicate she understood, and Aunt Mel paused to send a mournful look down the hallway to Scott's room. "I left some money on the counter for take-out. Can you make sure he eats something?"

"Yeah, of course," Joe said with what she hoped was a sympathetic smile. Aunt Mel nodded and slipped out without making too much noise. She worried about Scott. Hell, they both worried about Scott. Heartbreak and trauma was a difficult combination, and Joe was not sure what was true or not regarding drug use and delusions, but it did not matter. Scott was in pain.

Aunt Mel reappeared in the door with another concerned look. "Hey, are you okay, Joe?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, you're sure you don't want to get out a bit? Get some air? You've been working day and night now."

Pot calling the kettle black, thought Joe, and tried to give Aunt Mel a reassuring look. "I'll be fine, Aunt Mel. Don't worry about me."

"Well, I cant' help but worry about both of you," Aunt Mel said and patted the doorframe awkwardly. She spoke to it instead of Joe. "I know I'm not your mom or anything, but you know I care about you like you were my own, right?"

"Jeez, Aunt Mel, you're making me feel like I got terminal cancer or something," Joe said with a harsh laugh. She swallowed her grin at the sight of Aunt Mel's face and grimaced slightly. These kinds of talks were the worst. "I know you care, Aunt Mel. And Scott knows you care. We all know you care about us, okay?"

Aunt Mel tapped the doorframe lightly with her fingers, waiting for something. "And?"

"And we care about you too," Joe concluded with a roll of her eyes. "And now you should care about being late for work. Bye!"

"Bye," said Aunt Mel with a twinkle in her eye and closed the door behind her. Joe waited for her foot steps to go down the stairs and then the front door open and close. She fell back in her chair again with a huff. Everybody's worrying about everybody else. Her eyes fell to the window. Jimmy had adamantly denied skulking in their backyard at all, so that meant someone else had been recording her. Presumably the same someone who had delivered confidential police files at her doorstep. Who? Who had something to gain? Derek himself? Nothing fit.

The website on the screen updated itself and now the text accompanying Derek's picture read: "Police search continues for alleged killer Derek Hale." Alleged killer. They'd found a body then, but apparently not allowed to print a story on it directly. Probably the police wanted to buy time.

A message ticked in on her phone. From Jimmy, she'd saved his number now, but she could not open it. Probably a photo, something her dumb phone could not handle. She texted him this and got an immediate reply to check her e-mail. At least he had sent it from his regular e-mail, instead of that anonymous crap, and it was another dispatch-transcript. She wondered how he got hold of these.

"Body of presumed George Hall found around six hundred yards north-west of Beacon Hills High School," she read under her breath. Not news. Olds. "Body appears to be subject to several animal bites, autopsy to confirm if post or pre-mortem."

Animal bites. Animal attacks. "You know what he is, right?" Jimmy's question rang in her mind.

Joe shut off her computer with a harsh click and went to get pizza for her and Scott instead.

The bite marks found on the bodies of the Beacon Hills-victims casts an immediate anchor back six hundred years and... no.

Germany, six hundred years ago; California, last month. The string of similar attacks and the...no.

The human psyche's ability to process, as explained by...

Joe sighed and pushed her laptop away on the small table. Around her, conversation buzzed, only interrupted by the frequent hissing from the barista machine as the employees in the coffee shop made orders upon orders of espresso-based drinks. Taking Aunt Mel's advice and unable to take Scott's complete detachment anymore, she had gotten out of the house, hoping to get some actual work done. Her notes laid scattered on the table, her oatmilk cappucino long forgotten, and her thoughts unable to gather long enough to get some writing done.

Nancy Drew, her Professor had called it. Criminal mystery. Interesting, but not her subject. She was not trying to solve the crimes, not that Jimmy Carter cared about that at all. He seemed to jump on the chance to get a confidante — it seemed like he had been dying to share his theories with someone for ages. A week ago she might have welcomed it, but his theories had not been able to shed any light on the biggest mystery of all: Derek Hale and his connection to her and/or Scott.

Joe tapped her pencil against her notebook, watching the laptop-screen dim before switching to screensaver. She'd gotten here on foot, not strong enough to get back into her car that still reeked with dried blood. It needed a professional cleaning job, one that she could not afford at the moment.

"Excuse me, this seat taken?"

"No," Joe mumbled without looking up. She gestured to the empty chair. "Just take it."

To her surprise, the person slid into the seat directly instead of taking the whole chair along like Joe first had thought. Kate Argent's large grin appeared in her line of vision, holding two large cups of fresh coffee.

"Saw you through the window," Kate said with a wink as Joe scrambled to get all her paperwork and laptop off the table. "Hope you don't mind."

"No, no, it's okay," Joe said and stuffed her notes haphardazly into her backpack. Pencil, notebook, charger — everything rushed off the table. "I was, uh, trying to work, but I just can't seem to concentrate today."

"Sounds like you need caffeine," said Kate with absolute authority and offered one of the cups to Joe. "Soy hazel latte, wasn't sure if you're into dairy, with an extra shot of espresso."

"Oh, uh, jeez, how much do I owe you?" Joe went back into her backpack in search of her wallet.

Kate scoffed and waved her hand. "My treat, seriously. I'm the one barging in."

"Thank you," Joe said earnestly and sipped the delicious combination of soy and hazel. She preferred oatmilk, but this was delicious. She made sure to tell Kate just that.

"Yeah, it's a safe combo," Kate said and took a sip herself, earning a foam moustache on top her lip. Joe watched almost transfixed at the pink tongue darting out to wipe away the foam. A heat spread from her neck and upwards and she tried to focus on her own coffee instead. Kate had not seemed to notice Joe's fascination and nodded her head towards Joe's backpack. "What'cha working on?"

"Oh, just this paper," Joe said dismissively. "Got a real case of writer's block and my professor wants a new draft by tomorrow."

Kate's hazel eyes glittered. As the last time, she wore tight jeans and a brightly colored cashmere sweater, while her hair lay immaculate across her shoulders. Joe resisted the urge to fiddle with her own hair, knowing from experience it would do more harm than good. "Wow, flashback to my undergrad days. So glad I'm done with that."

"What did you major in?" Joe asked, glad to shift the focus. Kate had mentioned she'd taken some sort of degree in Portland or something.

"Art history," Kate said and winked again, leaving Joe unsure if it was a joke. "I know, I know, classic case of not having any clear direction in life. God knows this country doesn't really need any more history majors. It was either that or women's studies, and with a history major I at least had some semblance of chance to get a job."

They laughed and Joe urged Kate to tell her more. Apparently she made her living as a freelance writer for some art magazine, though she was on a small break now until the new season started — whatever that meant — and was helping her brother out with the family business. "You'd think that working with weapons would be fun, but it's really just a business like anything else. All numbers."

By the time both of them were nursing empty cups, the conversation had flowed non-stop and Joe found herself rising with the offer to get the next round. She went with her own standard order of oatmilk mocca cappucinos, and found her blush rising again at Kate's very vocal admission at how much she approved.

"So, uh, I heard about Scott and Allison," Kate said gently after the cappucinos were half-gone as well. She stirred the drink slowly with a long spoon, pausing occassionaly to pop the spoon in her mouth and lick off the foam.

"Well, you know more than me," Joe admitted. By now, most of the coffee shop had emptied out and it was getting dark outside. "Scott won't talk about it."

Kate made a face. "Ouch. Teen love. Brutal."

"Tell me 'bout it," Joe agreed and took a last sip of her cappucino. Some chocolate syrup had congealed in the bottom and stuck to her lips when she took the cup away.

"Hang on, you got a little..." Kate indicated with her finger to her own face. Joe used a napkin, but apparently missed, as Kate laughed. "No, here — okay, let me." Kate leaned over the table and used her thumb to stroke across Joe's bottom lip, presumably wiping off the syrup. Joe's heart thumped painfully in her chest as she watched Kate lean back and suck her own thumb, the pink tongue swiping across the skin.

This time, Kate made no motion of hiding that she caught Joe looking and sent her a wink that rendered Joe's insides into goo.

"Thanks," Joe mumbled and wondered what to do with her hands. Were they always this much in the way? What did she normally do with them? "So, uh, how's Allison taking it?"

"Oh, you know, moping, slamming doors, listening to some soppy boyband." Kate shrugged excessively and Joe noticed her collar bones accentuated by the motion. "Doesn't help that Chris won't let her leave the house after that incident at the school. Can you believe it? Derek Hale, a killer?"

At the mention of Derek Hale, Joe deflated and tried to find anything else to look at than Kate. Kate however leaned across the table again, her entire focus concentrated on Joe. With nothing else to say, she settled for a lame: "Yeah, I know."

"You said he fixed your car, right?" Kate pressed on while Joe pushed herself further back into her chair. "Do you think he had plans to, y'know..." Kate made a slashing motion with her hand across her neck.

Joe shrugged. She had never gotten the impression that Derek was antagonistic in any way, not even when she was snooping into his sister's empty grave.

"Thank God he didn't, huh?" Kate said and finally leaned back, giving Joe more space to breathe. With the close proximity, her nostrils had filled with the sickly floral perfume Kate wore and it was making it hard to breathe. "I really hope they catch him soon, but he's probably halfway to Mexico by now."

"Canada's closer," Joe mumbled without really knowing why. She did not want to think about Derek Hale, let alone talk about him with Kate Argent. Her brother could not have made it clearer how much they disliked Derek, and why did Kate give the impression of watching Joe like she was looking for a clue? Did they think she and Derek were in on this together in any way or that Joe would know something about Derek's whereabouts?

"I never asked..." Joe started, hoping to get the words out before losing courage. "How did you know Derek Hale again?"

"Well," said Kate with a wistful smile. "We, well...used to have a thing, back when he lived in Beacon Hills."

Joe's brows furrowed. She wasn't sure of Derek's exact age, but Kate was closer to thirty. Last time Derek lived in Beacon Hills, he'd gone to high school. Well, as far as she knew, he could have stayed here temporarily at any given time after that too.

"Oh," she said in lack of anything else. A sensation closely reminiscent to jealousy settled in her guts. She firmly ignored it. What Kate and Derek did back in the day was none of her business. "Okay."

"I mean, you gotta admit, he's a looker," Kate said with a conspiratorical wink. "I know, I know, with the current situation it makes me sound like those girls writing love letters to Ted Bundy because he had a handsome smile. To my defense though, he hadn't killed anyone when he and I — y'know. Not that I knew of, at least."

"I guess," Joe murmured, now the image of Kate and Derek y'know-ing plastered on the inside of her brain. Derek, all firm muscle, and Kate, a long-legged supermodel...physically, they were probably a good match. She had a feeling that physically was the best description for whatever thing Kate and Derek used to have.

"You guess? Come on, Joe, gossip with me here," Kate said and laughed again, a clear and inviting sound. "The boy works out, you know what I mean? Tight narrow hips, broad shoulders, biceps the size of your head — mm!"

Joe was unable to produce any sound. The description was accurate, but it was hard to portray just how good looking Derek Hale actually was. His body, sure, but his face? With sharp cheekbones, chiseled jawline stubbled with a five o'clock shadow, perfectly symmetrical plump lips and soft, glossy hair you could run your fingers through when-

"That's it? Joe, you're letting me down here!" Kate admonished and Joe snapped her head up, suddenly afraid she had said everything out loud. Kate sighed and did a half-shrug motion. "Okay, I guess he's not everyone's type." Kate looked down into her cappucino again, only her long eyelashes giving away that she peered up at Joe. "Especially not if you're, maybe, not that into guys at all..."

She let the sentence drift off, but Joe had already stood to leave without even thinking about it. Grabbing her backpack in a swift motion, she said: "I gotta get going."

Kate made a face, realizing her faux pas. "Joe, I didn't mean-"

"No, no, it's okay," Joe said and gave Kate the fakest smile she had ever produced. "Really. It's just getting late and I promised to help Scott prepare something for a project and-" she kept babbling about nothing and everything, eager to just get out of there as soon as possible. Kate's predatory manner kept turning her both on and off, and she needed some space to clear her head.

Kate grabbed her wrist just when Joe passed her. "Joe, I'm sorry, I really-"

"I said it's okay," Joe bit out and extracted her wrist without trying to notice how Kate's warm fingers left invisible marks on her skin. "I mean it. This was nice. Thanks for the coffee."

Joe pushed herself between the tables — the employees of the coffee shop were busy cleaning up the equipment after a long day. She paused when Kate called her name again, and the similiarity was not lost on her as she turned her head to look at Kate over her shoulder.

"Be careful tomorrow night, okay?" said Kate, leaning comfortably back on her chair. "Full moon. Could make everyone crazy."

Full moon. Kate seemed sincere, so Joe simply nodded and practically ran out of the coffee shop.

Blown away by all the kind reviews on the last chapter. The site won't let me see or respond to them yet, but I am super grateful! I was planning to post another chapter this weekend, but now I'll be out hiking instead so you get this early :)

No Derek in this chapter, but at least there's Kate? And a lot of confused Joe...

Cassie-011 asked if this was going to turn into an M-rated story. That is still to be determined as we're not really there yet. When, hopefully, there is cause for any M-rated scenes I will most likely write them anyway (because I like writing them...) and either change the rating of this story or post it in a separate one-shot.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed and please leave a review if did (or didn't)!