Hi all! Here's my 100th revision. It was all self-forced, I tried to get back into writing this story and realized how much my style changed in a year. I figured it was time to re-edit it until I felt like I was back in the groove.

Well, here goes. As always, all I own are my OCs.

I pull in front of the elementary school, smiling softly as Chase and Clark finish their arguments to lean forward and kiss my cheek. "Stay safe. Be good!" I call after them as they run out of the Impala. They just wave and go back to their argument. I watch as they walk with the other kids into the building, praying that Derek isn't vindictive enough to scent out my brothers and get revenge.

You know, because I helped accuse him of murdering his sister.

Sudden honking snaps me out of it.

"Okay! Okay! Damn!" I yell, waving out the window at the other cars before driving to the high school. Jackson's Porsche passes by me, and he speeds into his usual spot. Dick.

I park two cars down from him and slam the door closed. "What the hell, Whittemore?!"

"Aw, did I scratch that old rust bucket of yours?"

I growl and walk up to him, finger pointed into his chest. "Your parents may have money, but it isn't yours. Not really. So stop trying to act like you're better than the rest of the world."

He leans in and whispers, "Patricia, I am better than the rest of the world." With that he walks away to join his Lacrosse buddies, leaving me to stew in my anger.

That son of a bitch.

"Yo, Ricky!" Stiles calls, and I turn to smile at him. It fades when I see the anxious Scott, who honestly looks like he didn't even sleep last night.

"What happened?" I ask, quickly jogging over to the boys

"Scotty here had a bad dream. Well, it started off as a good dream." I raise an eyebrow in confusion and look from Stiles to Scott, who runs a hand through his floppy hair.

"Alright, so Allison and me-"

"And I." I correct, but he just makes a face.

"You weren't there." I roll my eyes with Stiles, Scott continuing as though I never corrected him. "We were at the school, kissing. Then we got onto the bus. I started wolfing out, and then there was a chase, and blood, and she was screaming -"

"So you killed her?" Stiles asks, opening the door so we can enter the school.

"I don't know. I just woke up. And I was sweating like crazy, and I couldn't breathe. I've never had a dream where I woke up like that before."

"Really? I have. Usually it ends a little differently."

I scrunch my nose up at Stiles. "Disgusting."

"A) I meant I've never had a dream that felt that real. And B) never give me that much detail about you in bed again."

"Hear, hear." I motion with Scott.

"Noted. Let me take a guess here -"

"No. I know, you think it has something to do with going out with Allison tomorrow." Scott interrupts. "Like I'm gonna lose control and rip her throat out."

"No, of course not." We both look at Stiles, incredulous. "Yeah, that's totally it." Scott breathes heavily. "Hey, come on, it's gonna be fine, all right? Personally, I think you're handling this pretty freakin' well."

"Totally." I agree, patting Scott's shoulder. "Besides, you've got Holmes and Watson to help you, Lestrade."

Stiles nods. "Yeah, it's not like there's a 'Lycanthropy for Beginners' class you can take."

"Yeah, not a class, but maybe a teacher."

"Who, Derek?" Stiles freaks out, stopping us in our tracks to briefly smack Scott up the head. "You forgetting the part where we got him tossed in jail?"

"Yeah, dude, we're lucky he hasn't gotten back at us. Violently." I add, grimacing. We keep walking.

"Yeah, I know! But chasing her, dragging her to the back of the bus, it felt so real."

"How real?"

"Like it actually happened." We walk out to the courtyard, and see the police standing around a ripped up school bus, blood spattered everywhere.

"I think it did." Stiles finally says.

Allison is fine. Thank God. According to Scott, Jackson's locker is not. Something about him losing control and banging on it hard enough to completely warp the metal and nearly knock it off its hinges.

That's nothing, though. It isn't even a blip on the school gossip's radar. All anyone can talk about is the crime scene outside, and if it weren't for the fact I have AP Physics and AP Literature today I'd be focusing on that, too. But there ain't no rest for the wicked.

Not until lunch time, at least. While Scott and Stiles discuss the severely injured man that was found and wait on line for gross school lunch I follow them, leftover Chinese food from last night in my hands. "But dreams aren't memories." Stiles argues, trying to convince our friend he didn't do whatever happened.

"Then it wasn't a dream, okay? Something happened last night." I sit next to Stiles, Scott across from him. "And I can't remember what."

"What do you have?" Stiles asks me, interested in the to-go container.

"Singapore noodles. And no, you can't have any."

Stiles huffs, then refocuses on Scott. "What makes you so sure that Derek even has all the answers?"

"Because. During the full moon he wasn't changed. He was in total control while I was running around in the middle of the night attacking some totally innocent guy."

"You don't know that."

"I don't not know it." Scott sighs. "I can't go out with Allison. I have to cancel."

"No, you're not canceling." We look at Stiles. "Okay? You can't just cancel your entire life."

"He's right." I grab Scott's hand. "We're gonna figure this out. Together."

"Figure what out?" We look up to see Lydia sitting in the seat beside Scott, setting down her tray.

"Just, uh, homework." Scott covers, throwing us a look. I remove my hand and smile at Lydia.

Stiles leans forward and whispers, "Why is she sitting with us?"

Suddenly a few of the players come over to our table, sitting with us. Scott moves his bag for Allison, who thanks him sweetly. Stiles awkwardly looks at Danny, who looks away.

"Get up." Jackson orders Brian.

"How come you never ask Danny to get up?"

"Because I don't stare at his girlfriend's coin slot." Brian huffs and moves, Jackson taking the seat as head of the table. I'm about to leave, not wanting to deal with his alpha male bullshit, but Stiles and Scott throw me begging looks so I remain - unhappily - seated.

"So I hear they're saying it's some type of animal attack." Danny brings up the man and the bus. "Probably a cougar."

"I heard it was a mountain lion." Jackson objects.

"A cougar is a mountain lion." Lydia corrects her boyfriend, staring at her food. Realizing her mistake in showing her brilliance she looks at him with confusion, like every dumb girl in a teen movie. "Isn't it?"

I scoff under my breath, and wince at the glare she throws me. I counter it with an air kiss, which she returns.

"Who cares? The guy's probably some homeless tweaker who's gonna die anyway."

"Wow, Jackson. You're a wonderful example of a human being." I tell him, completely unimpressed. Even Danny snorts, unaffected by the hurt look his best friend throws him.

"Actually I just found out who it is." Stiles announces, and I peer down at his phone. "Check it out."

He holds it out so the table can see, and everyone leans in. "The Sheriff's Department won't speculate on details of the incident, but confirmed the victim, Garrison Meyers, did survive the attack. Meyers was taken to a local hospital where he remains in critical condition."

"I know this guy." I look up at Scott, who continues. "When I used to take the bus, back when I lived with my dad. He was the driver."

I hum. "Well, I guess I found a new article to write. Think I can get a comment from you?" I try to lighten the mood, but it falls flat as I try to brainstorm every reason Scott - or any werewolf - would have to go after Meyers.

"Can we talk about something slightly more fun, please?" The others look at Lydia, but I pull out my notebook instead and quickly jot down what Stiles and Scott revealed. "Like, oh, where are we going tomorrow night?" I glance away from my notes to meet Allison's confused expression, the girl's cheeks bulging cutely as she chews. Lydia looks at her. "You said you and Scott were hanging out tomorrow night, right?"

Scott blinks over at Allison, who is just as lost as he is. Swallowing, she turns to her friend. "Um, we were thinking of what we were gonna do."

"Well, I am not sitting home again watching Lacrosse videos, so if the four of us are hanging out, we are doing something fun."

"H-hanging out?" Scott asks Allison, who's busy drinking some water. "Like, the four of us? Do you wanna hang out, like us and them?"

"Yeah, I guess?" Allison shrugs, a cute look on her bewildered face. "Sounds fun." She smiles at Lydia.

"You know what else sounds fun?" I frown over at Jackson, who's gripping his fork. "Stabbing myself in the face with this fork."

"So do it." I tell him with an innocent smile, Lydia unfortunately snatching the utensil from his hand.

"How about bowling? You love to bowl." She suggests with a pleased gasp.

"Yeah, with actual competition." Jackson complains.

"How do you know we're not 'actual competition'?" Allison asks. "You can bowl, right?" She asks her boyfriend. Scott grimaces.

"Sort of."

"Is it 'sort of' or 'yes'?" Jackson asks, leaning forward with a smug look on his face.

"Yes. In fact, I'm a great bowler." I nearly choke on the last of my noodles, Allison quickly handing me an extra water bottle.

"God, so much testosterone." I crumple up the rest of my garbage. "Thanks Ally. Well I'm off."

"What, is it Senior Ditch Day already?" Jackson sasses.

I shake my head. "You know, you really aren't that funny. Or cool. But I am, because my last class of the day ended before lunch."

"You're not staying to study at the library?" Lydia asks as I get up.

I shake my head. "Nope. Bye, kiddos." I wave and throw my trash away, exiting the cafeteria and leaving that train wreck behind.

God, even with all this werewolf crap, I'm still so happy I'm a damn senior so I don't have to deal with all that underclassmen machismo.

"Scott, buddy, calling for some bowling tips?" I ask.

He snorts on the other end. "No. But I'm going to see Derek Hale, and I really don't want to go alone."

"So call Stiles."

"What, are you scared?"

I sigh. "No, I'm just in my pajamas, watching One Tree Hill and proofreading some pretty subpar articles."

"Well, then you're not too busy to at least drive me?"

I scoff. "Oh, so now I'm your chauffeur? Un-freakin'-believable."

Scott laughs. "Sorry. But you're the toughest person I know, even in your fluffy bunny pajamas." I groan, looking down at the bunnies on said pajama pants.

"Fine. But I'm not changing."

"Yes! See you in a few. I just have to see my mom." I hang up and groan, getting up to put on a sports bra and my Cyclones sweater - purchased for school spirit, of course - feet slipping into my bunny slippers.

Danneel Harris's character is just driving Haley and Nathan's limo over the bridge when Scott calls me, breathing heavily.

"Dude, how fast did you ride?"

"It's not that. I-I saw Mr. Meyers at the hospital. He was totally freaking out and then he grabbed onto me, like he wanted me to save him!"

"But I thought that you thought you did that to him?" Even if I'm pretty sure you didn't.

"Yeah, which is why I'm freaked out and confused."

"Okay, okay, I'm heading down now." I close my computer and shut my bedroom lights, hurrying downstairs. My dad's watching TV, Chase and Clark doing their homework in front of him.

"Where are you off to like that, kid?" My dad asks, assessing my outfit.

I laugh, but it's a little forced. Things have been awkward in the Abernathy house since Derek's arrest. Mom and dad never mentioned anything to me, but the closed office door and low whispers are enough to tell me things are not as normal as they seem. "Hanging out with Scott."

"Alright. Remember, there's a curfew tonight."

"Okay!" I shout, closing and locking the door behind me. Scott rushes over, pulling my smaller form into a hug. "Man, Meyers really scared you, huh?"

"Yeah. We have to see Derek. Where do you think he'll be?"

I sigh. "Most likely the Hale House. He wouldn't want to stray too far from his den." Also, I'm not sure he has anywhere else to go. Which begs the question, why haven't my parents brought him home? The charges were dropped, which means he's technically innocent.

"Den?" Scott derails my train of thought.

"Wolf behavior, hon." I tell him, opening my trunk. "Come on, load in your bike." With some adjustment we manage to fit it in, and I lock it up before climbing into the Impala.

"You trying to impress someone?" Scott asks, nodding to my outfit and breaking the tense silence as I drive us to the Preserve. I start laughing uncontrollably, and he joins in.

"Our lives are ridiculous."

"Tell me about it. I'm a werewolf, and we're about to ask Derek Hale for help. After we got him arrested. And dug up the remains of his dead sister."

"And you have a girlfriend."

"I have a girlfriend. And you're actually single, for once."

I laugh some more, hitting his shoulder. "Well, after the last guy I realized I can wait until college."

"Greenberg." Scott snorts, and I drive through the clearing towards the Hale house. "You dated Greenberg." The giggles begin, and I roll my eyes.

"No bringing up Greenberg. I was going through an identity crisis." He guffaws, but it dies down when I park the car. He gets out first, and I awkwardly follow him, closing my door.

"I know you can hear me." Scott finally says, staring up at the house. "I need your help."

I take his arm and lead him up to the front porch, the two of us standing in front of the door as it starts to drizzle. The door opens, and out steps a somewhat impatient Derek, rocking the leather jacket.

"Okay. I know we were a part of you getting arrested and that we basically announced you being here to the hunters -"

"We also don't know what happened to your sister, but I'm betting it wasn't you." I finish for him, getting a look from Derek. He glances over at me then snorts, nodding at my slippers.

"You know wolves eat rabbits, right?"

I shrug. "I'm tougher than I look."

"Yeah, I bet you are." Scott nudges me and gives me a look, so I stop staring at the incredibly attractive possibly murderous werewolf and instead focus on the puppy next to me.

"I think I did something last night." Scott admits. "I had a dream about… someone. But someone else got hurt. And it turns out that part of the dream might have actually happened."

"You think you attacked the driver?" Derek asks.

"Did you see what I did last night?"

"No."

"Can you at least tell me the truth?" Scott asks. "Am I gonna hurt someone?"

Derek sighs. "Yes."

"Could I kill someone?"

"Yes."

"Am I gonna kill someone?"

"Probably."

I frown up at him. "God, why are you so pessimistic? You don't even know Scott!"

"No." He growls at me. "But I know werewolves. Sooner or later, someone you love gets hurt, and in the end, you're the one who caused it."

Something in his green eyes tells me what he knows goes beyond the death of his sister and most of his family. I almost want to ask, but considering we did just get him arrested I back off. "Fine." I mutter, stepping back a little.

Derek walks up to Scott, looking less menacing. "Look, I can show you how to remember. I can show you how to control the shift, even on a full moon. But it's not gonna come for free."

"What do you want?"

"You'll find out. But for now, I'm gonna give you what you want. Go back to the bus. Go inside. See it, feel it. Let your senses - your sight, smell, touch - let them remember for you."

"That's it? Just… just go back?" Scott asks.

"Do you want to know what happened?"

"I just want to know if I hurt him."

But Derek seems to be pretty good at sniffing out bullshit. "No, you don't. You want to know if you'll hurt her. And Stiles. And Patricia." He looks at me, green eyes narrowed. "And he will. And you won't be able to defend yourself in time."

I narrow my blue eyes and walk up to him, unintimidated by our height difference. "I'm made of more than you think. I may not be a werewolf, but I am a fighter." With that I turn around, pulling Scott with me.

"You know, that would've been way more scary if you weren't wearing pajamas." Scott balks at the glare at my face and gets in the Impala. I turn to scowl up at Derek, who only nods before walking back into the ruins of his home.

That night I sit in the backseat of Stiles's Jeep, the boys in the front. Of course, I swapped my bunny slippers and fluffy pajama bottoms for my heeled ankle boots and a pair of flexible jeans.

We pull up to the school, the giant gates closed and locked up. We get out and follow Scott, who stops us. "Hey, no, just me. Someone needs to keep watch."

Stiles frowns. "How come we're always the guys keeping watch? Wait, why aren't you stopping Pat?" He asks as I skip ahead of Scott to grab onto the fence.

"Because Pat does what she wants. Me being a werewolf won't stop that." Scott argues with Stiles, and I roll my eyes in favor of climbing the fence, reaching the other side in record time.

Good job, Patrica. A girl's voice whispers in my head, and I'm quick to shake it out.

"Okay, why is it starting to feel like you're Batman and I'm Robin while Ricky prances around as the super hot and useful Wonder Woman? I don't want to be Robin all the time~" Stiles gripes, breaking me from my thoughts. I turn around to watch my best friends continue to bicker.

"Nobody's Batman and Robin any of the time!" Scott argues once more, irritated.

"Notice how you didn't say there's no Wonder Woman? That's just rude." Stiles huffs out, and I growl. "Sorry. But come on, not even some of the time?"

"Just stay here." Scott orders.

"Oh my God! Fine!" Stiles grumbles to himself and walks away from the fence and I wait for Scott to join me. As soon as he does I hand him a pair of latex gloves and shoe covers, sliding on mine as well.

"What's with these?" He asks.

I shrug. "The department might revisit the crime scene. It'd be pretty suspicious if they found our prints."

"Good thinking, as always. And thank you, for coming with me to see Derek. Even in your fluffy clothes."

"Whatever. What are friends for?"

Scott nods, then closes his eyes. I wait for him to open them, and when he does he looks pained. "Alright, so in my dream, I heard something howling. I woke up, wolfed out."

"Okay. What happened next?"

He leads me towards the bus, hand pressed against the glass door. He jumps back, seeing something that isn't there. Then he pushes the door so it opens, letting the two of us in. He walks ahead, looking down, his nose sniffing out clues. I close the door behind us, and he looks back at me. "The bus driver was here. He's reaching out for me. But something else is pulling him away."

"So you were watching?"

"I think." He turns back around and walks forwards, hands clasping onto the seats. He stares at a row covered in blood and flinches back, covering his head with his arms. "Som-someone threw something at me." He reaches down, hearing sounds that aren't there, then stumbles back, clutching his chest. He looks at his hands in horror before turning back to me. "It wasn't me." Before he can respond Stiles honks. Noticing approaching lights Scott and I dash out of the bus and towards the Jeep. I screech as Scott grabs me as if I'm a feather and practically leaps over the fence, landing with me bridal style in his arms. He puts me down and we run to the car, quickly climbing in.

"Did it work?" Stiles asks, panicking as he drives away. "Did you remember?"

"Yeah, I was there last night. And the blood. A lot of it was mine." I wince.

"So you did attack him?" Stiles asks.

"No!" Scott objects, confident. "I-I saw glowing eyes in the bus, but they weren't mine. It was Derek."

"Derek?" I ask. "Are you sure? Why would he tell you to come check if it was him?"

"I don't know."

"What about the driver?" Stiles asks.

"I think I was actually trying to protect him."

"Which is why he reached for you at the hospital." I guess, patting his shoulder.

"I'm with Ricky. Why would Derek want you to remember that he attacked the driver?"

Scott groans. "That's what I don't get!"

"It's got to be a pack thing."

"What do you mean?"

"Like and initiation. You do the kill together."

I shake my head. "No, there has to be more to it than that. Why target a complete stranger to get loyalty? Wouldn't Derek have gone after one of us? Make Scott kill one of his friends?"

"Right. Because ripping out someone's throat is a real bonding experience?" Scott sasses me.

Stiles clears his throat as he makes a turn. "Yeah, but you didn't do it. Which means you're not a killer. And it also means that…"

"I can go out with Allison."

Stiles and I look at Scott incredulously. The former just sighs. "I was gonna say it means you won't kill us. You know, me and Ricky?"

"Oh, yeah. That too."

"Boys." I mutter, finally ripping off my gloves shoe covers and leaning back in my seat, eyes closed.

The next night I find myself lying on my bed, arms crossed in thought as I stare up at the ceiling, only to be interrupted by my stomach growling. My dad is working the night shift, and my mom just left to attend a conference in San Francisco. The twins are at their friend's house for a sleepover, which means I get the house all to myself. So, with the realization that there's no more junk food in my not-so-secret stash, I get dressed. Needing gas for my car anyway, I drive to the gas station and fill her up, then drive into the empty lot and get out, walking into the little convenience store attached.

Paul waves at me before returning to his phone, and I browse the shelves for some original Pringles, salt and vinegar chips, four different kinds of Doritos, Slim Jims, beef jerky, cherry Coke, and a bag of Hershey's kisses. After paying the unenthused Paul, I make for the door. I freeze when a familiar Camaro pulls into the service station. Derek gets out, going through the motions of filling up his tank. Suddenly, two cars pull in. One parks in front of his car, the other behind the Camaro, effectively trapping him. Chris Argent gracefully exits the red one, flanked by a couple of other men. Hunters. They're probably hunters.

I don't know what comes over me, but as more of Argent's men exit the other car I sneak closer and crouch in the shadows. I don't remember ever being this quiet, but it's like someone's telling me exactly how to hide in plain sight. There's complete silence as Derek removes the gas pump and puts it back in the slot.

"Nice ride." I hear Chris Argent say, loudly and arrogantly. "Black cars, though. Very hard to keep clean." His voice, while calm, exudes an underlying threat. "I would definitely suggest a little more maintenance." He wipes at a spot on the hood of the car.

Chris leans down for the Squeegee in a bucket, pulling it out. With a steady hand I pull out my phone and start to film, hoping I'm close enough to pick up their conversation. "If you have something this nice, you want to take care of it, right?" The hunter starts to clean the car. "Personally, I'm very protective of the things I love. But that's something I learned from my family. And you don't have much of that these days." He turns to assess the werewolf. "Do you?" He asks. From here I can see Derek clenching his fists in anger, before relaxing. "There we go." He returns the Squeegee. "You can actually look through your windshield now. See how that makes everything so much clearer."

He starts to walk away, but Derek stops him. "You forgot to check the oil." Chris turns, a smug look on his face.

"Check the man's oil." His lackey does what he asks, hitting the window over and over with the butt of a heavy-duty gun until the driver's side is covered in glass. "Have a nice night." Chris makes for his car, only to stop in place when I come out of hiding, phone still recording.

"Hey!" I yell, and the rest of the men focus, a small blonde with fury in her eyes. Chris Argent looks nervous as he eyes my phone, but he's quick to cover it up.

"Oh, good evening, Patricia. I want to thank you again, for really welcoming Allison."

I smile. "Well, your daughter's amazingly kind. Unfortunately, I see she doesn't exactly get that trait from you."

"What do you mean?" He asks, playing stupid.

I don't fall for it. Instead, I raise an eyebrow and point to my phone. "I'm sure you don't know that my mother is Sofia Abernathy, the Hale family's lawyer. Old family friends, too." I sneak a glance at Derek, who's shaking his head and glowering in my direction. Confused, I return my gaze to Allison's dad. "Now, she's currently away on business, but she'd be interested to hear that you and your little band of Merry Men assaulted her client and caused damage to his vehicle. I can send her this video of you bothering him." I stop the recording and play the video back, showing it to the men. I can't help the pleased smirk that grows on my face when I realize how clear the audio's coming out. "Or I can send you the bill. I think it's more than reasonable for you to cover the cost of the window and trauma." The hunters stare at me in anger, clearly mad that they were caught. I don't let them scare me. It's bad enough Derek looks like he's about to murder me on the spot.

"And if I don't?" Chris Argent questions, stepping forward. I'm quick to save the recording and shove my phone into my cleavage, willing away my flushed cheeks at the rash action.

Clearing my throat, I try to brush it all off with a shrug. "Then I'll just send the video to Allison. Let her know her dad spends his spare time acting like a knock-off mafioso. I have a feeling that's not something you'd like to happen, though." I raise an eyebrow, waiting. Argent just frowns, before reaching into his wallet and pulling out a business card. I hold out my hand and he hands it over. In return, I tuck it into my wallet and smile innocently, just like my mom does when my dad folds and lets her choose the movie for Family Night. Or like Stiles does, after he's found a way to extort his father. Those two are my greatest teachers in the art of getting your way. "Thank you, Chris. Have a good night." I practically sing, watching as the hunters get into their cars and drive away.

A large hand grabs my arm, and I'm turned towards a furious Derek. "What the hell were you thinking, bright eyes?" Bright eyes, bright eyes - "You should've just walked away, now they know who you are -"

I frown, confused. "Uh, he does already. Allison's sort of my new bestie."

"If your parents find out, they're going to kill me."

"Why?" I twist out of his hold, glowering up into his green eyes. "Why would they care? It's the truth, isn't it? We're old family friends."

"Damn it!" Derek growls, his fangs dropping a bit. I gulp and do my best not to look away. "We need to get you out of here."

I tilt my head. "Uh, human." I gesture to myself. "Werewolf." I point to Derek. "You're the one who needs to go. What if they come back?"

"Patricia, this isn't a joke. You need to go home." Derek growls.

I shake my head, crossing my arms. "No."

"No?" He snarls.

"No." I bite back. "Not until we get your car towed. Then I can drive you back, keep you safe from the big bad hunters. That way we're even, and you don't murder me or my friends for getting you arrested. Which, uh, I'm sorry. That was wrong." I apologize, watching the anger fall from his face, replaced with something akin to betrayal. Huh. "I never thought you killed her, not even after we found the… we found Laura." I correct myself. "Please, let me help you. Okay? Not even as an apology, just because it's the right thing to do." I murmur, finally looking down.

Derek sighs, and I can hear him running his hand down his face. Something about it makes me smile. "I'm going to regret this. Fine. Make the call. The Camaro's gonna be a pain in the ass to drive like this, anyway." He rolls his eyes as I perk up. "Are you sure you want to get in a car with a murderer?"

"Like I said, I don't think you're a murderer. I just think you're misunderstood, that's all. Of course, I could be wrong, so let's just call this a truce." I step back. "I'll call them. You go wait by my car. Unless you're scared of a girl half your height?" Derek just snorts and walks away, giving me one last confused glance. I just go through my contacts and press on Armor Tire and Service Center. As it rings I lift it to my ear, watching the werewolf awkwardly stand by my Impala. "Hi, I'm going to need a pick up for a Chevy Camaro 2010 model at the Beacon Hills Gas Station. You know, it's the damnedest thing. The driver side window was smashed in. Ruffians, am I right?"

We watch as the Armor Tire tow truck drives away, taking Derek's Camaro with it. I turn to the older man and unlock my Impala. "Well, get in. There's a curfew, you know." Surprisingly he does as I ask, and softly closes the door behind him.

"I need you to take me to the Hospital."

"So you can check on the driver?" He tenses, hands balling up into fists. "Don't worry. I don't think you killed him, either. I mean, Stiles is under the impression that was your way of initiating Scott as a werewolf. But come on, why would you have Scott revisit the scene of the crime if you're guilty? And why not have him kill us?"

He relaxes his hands as I drive. "You're perceptive, for a human."

"Thanks. And you're not so wild, for a werewolf." He scowls at me. "I'll take you to the hospital if you promise not to hurt the driver. And I'll take you home after. Deal?"

"Why?" He asks, green eyes searching my blue eyes for an answer.

I shrug. "I don't know. But there's something strange about you. Well, stranger." I make pretend claws with my very human hands, smirking as Derek scoffs. "I just… we're old family friends, right? So let me be that for you."

The remainder of the drive is silent, even as I pull into the hospital's parking lot. Derek gets out without saying a word. I've barely eaten half a bag of Sweet and Spicy Doritos when Derek returns, lost in thought as he closes the door behind him and puts on his seatbelt. "Derek?" I ask.

He frowns as he glances over at me. "The driver. He knew me. He knew my name. He said 'I'm sorry'. Then he died." I blink back at him, just as confused, before pulling out of the lot.

"We'll figure it out."

"'We'?" He asks.

I look at him. "Of course. I'm writing an article about it for the school newspaper. Investigative journalism's sort of my thing. I'm the Watson to Stiles's not-sociopathic Sherlock."

He snorts, and I feel him staring at me as I drive towards the Preserve.

I park in front of his house and get out, grabbing my big bag of snacks. He tosses me a look and I shrug. "Listen, I was going to go home, eat crap food, and watch TV. I can still eat crap food, but now we have a problem to solve. And it's cold outside."

"It's not much better inside." Derek points out, opening the front door and leading me in, closing it behind us. I look around the burnt shell of the house, and Derek frowns. "I can smell your pity."

"It isn't pity." I shake my head. I can almost see people running around, hear them laughing and talking loudly, smell food cooking. I feel like I've been run over. "I just… you ever get the feeling you've… nevermind." I clear my throat, blue eyes meeting green. Derek looks just as confused as I feel, and I catch one of his hands reaching towards me before dropping back down. "No one should've gone through what you did. And I'm sorry we made it worse."

Derek nods, accepting my apology and leads me up the stairs, into the remains of a bedroom. I glance around as he sets down a smudged blanket, a flash of blue paint and a wall of posters appearing in my mind's eye before my stomach growls. I hungrily drop to the blanket, pulling my snacks from the plastic bag. As I unwrap a Kiss, I blink innocently over at an amused Derek. "Oh, I forgot to ask. Werewolves can eat chocolate, right?"

He rolls his eyes and unwraps a Kiss with me, popping it in his mouth. "Dog jokes. Hilarious."

"I thought so." I laugh, and take a sip of my cherry Coke to wash down the melting chocolate. "So, the driver knew you. Have you ever seen him before?"

"I don't think so." He shakes his head.

I hum, biting my lip. "Did you recognize his scent?"

"Faintly."

There's silence, then I tilt my head. "I'm just curious. Why did you bite Scott?"

He gives me a look. "I didn't. I can't. I'm not an alpha."

"And only alphas can give the bite?"

Red eyes. Why am I seeing red eyes?

"Yes."

"Oh." I blink, piecing together all the facts I can remember about what happened since that first night in the Preserve. "Okay, wait, that makes sense. Let's say there's an alpha running around the woods of Beacon Hills. It comes across Scott, and bites him. Scott becomes a werewolf. The rogue alpha clearly has no problem with killing." I look up at Derek. "But you already knew that. And you think this alpha killed Laura, don't you?"

He tenses at his sister's name, and frowns at me. "Maybe. It could've been a hunter. They're known to cut us in half."

"Except there were bite marks on her legs." I clear my throat and brush when he looks at me. "Scott and I may have paid a visit to the morgue." He rolls his eyes. I clear my throat. "Sorry. Again. Um, anyway, I'm pretty sure hunter's don't bite. So the alpha killed Laura, and you're trying to find him."

"Yes."

"Woah." I munch on a couple of pringles. "That's some serious stuff right there." I wipe my hands together. "My mom's your family's lawyer, right? That's how you know each other?"

"She told you." It's a statement, not a question.

"No." I opened a Slim Jim, chewing aggressively. "I picked the lock to her office and found all the legal documents. There's no other reason for her to have them on hand."

"Alright, smartass." Derek snorts, helping himself to the Pringles. "Yes. She's our family lawyer. Not that we've needed her much the past six years."

"Until we got you accused of murder. Again, I'm sorry -"

"I know. Stop apologizing." Derek growls, but it's friendlier than normal.

I clear my throat, resting my chin on my right hand. "Have we seriously never met before? Because I keep…"

"Yeah?" He exhales, watching me curiously.

I do my best not to get lost in his green eyes. "Ever since we met in the woods, I keep seeing things. Or hearing them. Like… like deja vu, or whatever."

"Except deja vu is just when you think something's happened before. It's really just you remembering a similar event." Derek corrects.

I narrow my eyes, frowning. "You don't believe that. I don't know how, but you don't."

"I promise you, we've never met before." He growls out. "I think I'd remember someone as irritating as you."

"That was almost a compliment. At least I'm not forgettable."

"No. You're not." Derek's quick to look away, and I open another bag of Doritos to hide my warm cheeks.

"So." After a few awkward moments of silence, I glance back up at him. "You're a Christmas baby, right? Because your ID says something different, but the copy of your birth certificate looks pretty official."

Derek makes a face. "Yes. I'm a Christmas baby."

"Cool. I was born on September 31st. In case you were wondering."

"I wasn't." He growls.

"What's your favorite color?"

"Why do you need to know?"

I hold up my hands in surrender. "Whoa. I was just curious. Family friend, remember?"

Derek sighs, but eventually responds. "Black."

"No it isn't." I shake my head.

"Fine. It's gold." He looks away, briefly, a little sad.

"I prefer blue." I shrug, and he blinks at me. "It reminds me of water, and clear skies."

"You're a strange girl."

"And you're an even stranger guy."

"Thank you." I look up from where I'm unwrapping another kiss. "For what you did at the gas station."

"It was the right thing to do. It wasn't a fair fight, even though you're a werewolf."

Derek opens his mouth to respond, but before he can his whole body shifts. His ears twitch, he fangs dropping. "You need to go."

"What's wrong?"

"Scott's here. He's angry." Derek turns to me and helps me stand, larger hands clutching mine. "Please. You need to keep your distance. Alright, bright eyes?"

I want to ask about the nickname, but it's not the time. "You aren't going to hurt me." I reassure him, confused as confident trust bloomed in my chest for one of the last Hales.

Derek shakes his head. "You're right. I won't."

Before I can question him, I hear my best friend yell, "Derek! I know you're here! And I know you have Patty, I can smell her! I know what you did!"

Derek lets go of my hands, tensing. "I didn't do anything." His voice echoes through the house.

"You killed him!"

"He died." Derek's body stiffens as he snarls out the words, stepping in front of me. I reach out to rest my hand on his back, but stop myself as my ears pick up on Scott walking up the stairs.

"Like your sister died?"

"My sister was missing. I came here looking for her."

"You found her."

"In pieces!" Derek yells, and I press my hand on his back, feeling his whole body trembling. "Being used as bait to catch me!"

"I think you killed them both. I'm gonna tell everyone, starting with the Sheriff and Patty's dad. I don't care if your old friends, he won't forgive you for abducting her."

"Scott! Jesus Christ, he didn't take me!" I yell, hoping to put an end to the situation. "And Derek didn't kill anyone!"

But it's too late. Derek storms out of the room and pushes Scott down the stairs. I run after him and see my best friend groaning on the ground as the Hale jumps down to face off against the wolfed-out Scott. My best friend throws Derek through a wall and I run down the steps, bounding past him to help Derek up. The older of the two werewolves just presses past me, rolling his shoulders back as he takes off his leather jacket, which I pick up as I back away from the ensuing battle..

"That was cute." He comments, rolling his neck and shifting. He turns to me, eyes glowing blue and thick eyebrows gone, his ears slightly pointed. He lets out his own primal roar. Scott runs to him and suddenly they're throwing each other around the room, crashing around the ruins of the living room while I move out of the way, running towards the front door. I almost leave, but realize I can't. I don't have it in me to leave them behind, especially not Scott. He wouldn't leave me.

I turn back around and watch Derek throw Scott over what looks like an old chest. When Scott tries to attack he punches him in the gut. My best friend groans, stumbling back, and I rush forward to catch him and carefully sit him down. Derek shifts back and turns to look at us, panting. Scott groans by my side but glares up at the other werewolf all the same, no longer wolfed-out.

"I didn't kill him. Neither of us did!" Derek tries to explain once more. "It's not your fault, and it's not mine."

"This?" Scott asks, yelling. "This is all your fault!" He gets up to scream in Derek's face. "You ruined my life!"

"No, I didn't." Derek grits out.

"You're the one who bit me!"

"No, I'm not."

"What?!"

I stand. "It's true, Scott." Scott turns to me, calming down a bit before looking at Derek, who leans forward.

"I'm not the one that bit you."

Scott then touches the blood on his chest, clearly remembering something. He eventually settles down on the remains of a couch. "There's another."

Derek nods. "It's called an alpha. It's the most dangerous of our kind. You and I, we're betas. This thing is more powerful, more animal than either of us. My sister came here looking for him. Now I'm trying to find him. But I don't think I can do it without you."

"Why me?" Scott asks, letting me pick the debris out of his hair as Derek continues his explanation.

Derek glances at me, licking his lips with a frown before refocusing on my breathless best friend. "Because he's the one that bit you. You're part of his pack. It's you, Scott. You're the one he wants."