~Hear Me Cry~

By: Aerys Krystie.

Pain

Standing at the window, Jackson winced and rubbed his neck. What had started as a tickle was now buzzing up and down his spine. Derek was asleep and Jackson didn't want to know what he was dreaming. The feeling that was spilling through their link had Jackson frowning.

There was anger and sadness, but it felt different from the two of those. There was something else mixed in with them, something Jackson didn't know. He wanted to check on Derek, to study his face. But after the shower, Derek had closed his bedroom door for the rest of the night.

Despite not knowing what the feeling was, Jackson found the link and tried to send through warmth. That only made it worse. Jackson couldn't understand it. Whenever Derek felt sadness, that warmth and comfort seemed to make him feel better. Or, at least, it took away the sting of tears. Now, it seemed to have the opposite effect. Not wanting to feel it anymore, Jackson shut down his side of the link.

Watching as the sun began to rise, Jackson stared at the pavement opposite the window. He could feel one of the other pack coming and they wanted to make a statement. As though sensing an impending threat, Derek woke and walked out of his room. He stood beside Jackson, watching the pavement, as well.

In a matter of minutes, the others were gathering around the window. Isaac seemed twitchy and Jackson didn't know if it was anger or something else. The beta's face kept going from a glare, to an almost pleading glance at the alpha. Returning his eyes to the pavement, Jackson waited.

"What happened yesterday?" Erica asked, rubbing her eyes. She blinked and looked out the window. "Why are they pissed off at us?"

"They aren't. They're angry with me," Jackson answered, feeling Erica's eyes on him for a moment, before they moved on.

"Derek?" she asked.

Derek glanced at her, very quickly. "An alpha and two betas attacked Isaac and Jackson yesterday. Jackson killed them."

Jackson could feel the shocked eyes on him. "I'm not an alpha."

"But you killed one," Peter said and then looked at Derek. "Are you sure he's not an alpha?"

"He still has the blue eyes," Derek answered, not looking at his uncle.

"I didn't want it," Jackson said, frowning when the tips of Derek's fingers touched his. He pulled his hand away and crossed his arms. "I simply removed a threat."

"There's three betas and two alphas left," Derek said, turning his back to the window and looking at his pack. "I think Jackson killed an alpha of the bonded pair, which…isn't going to end well for us."

Jackson wanted to tell Derek to hand him over. He could handle whatever they did to him, but he also knew that Derek was opposed to that idea. After all, he was the one that had killed the alpha and they were out for his blood. He needed to remove the threat of that pack, especially as they had almost killed one of the betas he must protect.

Lowering his eyes, Jackson tried to find that spark he felt yesterday. The one where he felt good about himself and good about his abilities. Erica had called it 'ego.' He wanted that back, because then he knew he could help Derek. However, just as he felt the spluttering of that spark, something told him that it could be his downfall.

The female alpha with the pack stopped across the street and stared up at the window. Her eyes were fixated on Jackson. He gazed back and her eyes flashed red. Jackson tilted his head and she growled, as though he was being clueless on purpose.

They stared at each other for a while, before she crossed the street and entered the building. Jackson turned, wanting to greet her at the door. Derek placed a hand on his shoulder and stood in front of his pack. Jackson frowned as something passed over him and it wasn't from Derek. He felt the need to stand by Derek's side and face the other alpha with him.

Less than a minute later, the door was opened and the woman walked in. "Stand down, Hale," she said lowly. "We just want…that." Her eyes bored into Jackson's and he tilted his head again.

Moving through the pack, Jackson stood beside Derek and stared at her. Before he could step up to her, Derek placed a hand on his shoulder. Jackson tried to ignore the warmth that spread through his body. He forced his heart not to beat, not wanting to give away that Derek affected him. It didn't work.

At the sound of his beating heart, the woman's eyes widened for a moment, before laughing harshly. "How cute! You're bonded," she said mockingly. "My brother was bonded to his mate, as well. Until that killed him."

"Your brother attacked him and one of my betas," Derek stated, narrowing his eyes and tightening his grip on Jackson. "He defended himself."

"He's a murderer."

That feeling that Derek had when he was sleeping filled Jackson. He didn't know what it was, but he just knew he had to kill the female alpha. She didn't know a thing about him and she would call him that?

Anger bubbled in him and he shoved Derek to the side, appearing in front of the female. Her eyes widened for a moment. Her claws came out and went for his heart. Jackson caught her wrist and broke it easily. He could feel her healing kicking in, but he wanted to remind her that he could have killed her if he wanted to.

"Jackson, what the fuck?!" Boyd shouted.

Jackson ignored the shocked eyes on him and the wet screams of the alpha that had her throat removed. He could feel someone watching him, appreciating his work as he ripped off the arm he held. The stench of her blood filled the loft and Jackson couldn't remember the last time he felt such hot rage. All he wanted to do was kill her.

"Leave," he said calmly. She nodded and stumbled back. "I don't mean the building. I mean the town."

She didn't say anything as she staggered out of the loft, leaving a trail of blood behind her. Jackson kept glaring at the door. When he turned his furious eyes on Derek's pack, he saw the way they were looking at him. Only Peter had any sort of admiration for what he did. Derek's anger was thick in the air as he glared at Jackson.

Looking down at his blood covered hands, Jackson realized it. What he had done hadn't been nearly as satisfying as he hoped. Seeing the fear in the eyes of those he was meant to call pack added something to the anger he felt. It wasn't anger at them. Jackson recognized enough to know he was angry at himself.

Isaac was the first to approach him. Jackson didn't realize it, having gone back to staring at his hands. His claws were still out. They were still covered with the blood of an alpha. An alpha that had called him a murderer. An alpha that didn't know how close she was to the truth. An alpha that could put him out of his misery, if he tried hard enough.

He didn't feel Isaac's hands on him, but he saw them. He growled in warning, but Isaac didn't move. In fact, the hands tightened their hold. He growled again, which only happened again and again as the others hugged him. He wanted to shove them back. He wanted nothing more than to be away from that loft, away from Derek's pack and away from Derek.

And that's exactly what he did. After a few minutes, he backed away. The glare was still in place, but they didn't look frightened of him any longer. They appeared as though they understood what he was going through and that just made him angrier.

Before he fully knew what he was doing, he had spun around and ran for the door. He skidded to a halt, slipping in the blood as he found Derek blocking his exit. The wolf retreated as the alpha's eyes glowed at him, but the anger was still burning.

Derek's red eyes went to his pack. "Find something else to do," he told them. Boyd, Erica and Isaac squeezed past him and left the building.

Peter remained where he was. "I want to spar with him," he said.

Jackson felt his fangs come through, but he pushed it away. The only one he wanted to kick the shit out of was Derek. He was trapped in the loft. His eyes darted to the window and made a dash for it, only to have Derek grab his ankle and keep him in place.

Snarling, Jackson twisted and punched the alpha across the cheek. Derek didn't feel it and, had Jackson been thinking rationally, he would question why that was. Instead, he punch the alpha again and again, there was no reaction. Derek just held his ankle, accepting the punches. Peter seemed to realize that he wasn't going to spar with Jackson and left the loft, closing the door.

Jackson shoved Derek down and growled at him, eyes blazing blue. Derek stared back at him, emotionless. There was no alpha in his eyes and Jackson curled his lip back. He wanted to hit Derek until his blood covered his hands and face. He wanted to tear him limb from limb, but glaring down into those hazel green eyes, Jackson couldn't do anything. All he could do was stare. Derek was right there, but it was just like the other victims. The rage had his body so tense that it would hurt.

Derek's hand cupped his cheek and Jackson ignored the warmth of the hand. His link to Derek was shut down. Why was he feeling what he did? Why did that touch make him want to cry and hold onto Derek, like he was some kind of saving grace? Why was the anger leaving him, the longer Derek touched him?

"What you're feeling right now…it's called 'guilt,'" Derek explained softly, his thumb running along Jackson's cheekbone. "And if you don't deal with it, it will kill you, slowly."

Jackson flashed through his victims. The people Matt and Gerard had used him to kill, the betas and the alpha the day before. Every one of them had a right to live and he had taken it from them. Whether they were threats or not, he had taken the one precious thing they had. He had snatched it from them with his claws

Looking at Derek, Jackson slapped his hand away and glared. "Good."

Pain flashed through Derek's eyes, before it was replaced with anger. "No," he snarled and stood.

Jackson's eyes flicked to the door, but he growled as Derek wrapped his arms around him. He struggled, fought and even clawed to get free. Derek's strength never wavered, but only became more secure the longer Jackson contested the hug.

After an hour, Jackson realized he wasn't going anywhere. He stood still, glaring to the side so he didn't have to look at anything that was Derek. He could feel his body tensing as Derek's fingers brushed over his neck and that ignited another bout of growls, snarls and more blood being spilled. Jackson did everything he could to get free, but Derek refused to let him go. It was just another bout of guilt and anger that washed over him.

Another hour later, Jackson stopped again. Derek's shirt was in tatters on the floor, which Jackson was regretting. Derek's torso was warm against his body and he didn't want to feel it. He didn't want to feel anything. He just wanted to feel the sweet release of death. He wanted to feel the sweet release of finally going to hell for everything he'd done.

"I'm not letting you go until you deal with this, Jackson," Derek murmured and the arms tightened.

"And if I don't want to deal with it now?"

"Too bad."

Derek knew hours passed, with Jackson struggling to get free almost every twenty minutes. It was as though he forgot that he couldn't escape. Derek had tried to force their link open, but Jackson kept slamming it shut in his face. Derek wouldn't admit it, but he could even feel the wolf pulling away from him.

Jackson was a rock in his arms. His body was so tensed from the anger that every time Derek tried to relax him, another bout of guilt washed over him. For a moment, Derek believed that Jackson was punishing himself for something. His pack knew that Jackson felt guilty about his time as the kanima and none of them fully blamed him for the deaths.

The female alpha would never know why calling Jackson a murderer struck so deeply in him. His guilt had quickly been overridden by fury and Derek actually felt fear towards his newest beta. He always knew Jackson would make a formidable pack member – he'd had years of training and honing of his skills – but he never thought that Jackson could be lethal.

Derek had seen it in Jackson's eyes when he removed the arm of the alpha. He had wanted to kill her, literally rip her limbs from her body. He had forced himself not to do that, as that would make her right. And no one but Jackson Whittemore could be right about anything.

That was the kind of available potential that Derek wanted to tap into and show Jackson how strong he could really be. But Jackson thought he didn't want that. He couldn't live up to his full potential until he dealt with his guilt and came to terms with his blue eyes. Jackson needed to talk about it, but Jackson never spoke about his problems. He ignored them until they couldn't be ignored.

Jackson was struggling in his arms again. There was pain from the claws slicing his torso, but he held on. He was going to make sure Jackson knew there was another person he couldn't push away. Lydia was the only person that could make Jackson do something he didn't want to. As much as Derek wanted her there, just to help keep Jackson calm, he heard his blood splash to the floor. He couldn't ask Lydia to watch Jackson's animal struggle with reality. Not again.

Bringing Jackson closer to his body just gave him an excuse to shred the back of his shirt. Derek could hear Jackson's heart beating frantically in his chest, but realized he wasn't breathing. Without a beating heart, Jackson had no reason to breathe.

"Breathe," Derek ordered and Jackson froze, claws still in the flesh of Derek's shoulders.

Jackson inhaled. Derek kept his heart steady, gently nuzzling the side of Jackson's head. He inhaled again and Derek never realized how good it felt to feel his shoulders moving. He breathed in, wanting to smell Jackson's scent and felt his stomach sink.

Jackson's scent was completely overpowered by unadulterated anguish and self-loathing. Not even the musk of the wolf could come through emotions that powerful and Derek finally realized why Jackson refused to deal with the guilt. Jackson literally hated everything about himself.

Derek wondered when that started. After he awoke as a werewolf, Derek hadn't thought to ask him about his memories. Everyone knew that the kanima was a separate entity existing within Jackson, but there had to be times when he was awake and knew, could see, could feel what was happening around him. He must have felt so powerless to stop it.

Jackson's claws left his shoulders and the arms fell, lifeless. This time, when Derek's fingers brushed over his neck, there was no struggle. There was nothing, but Derek could smell everything. Jackson hadn't shut off his emotions and Derek was hopeful he would try to deal with his guilt.

Derek was no stranger to guilt, himself. He knew that it couldn't be worked out in a single day, but if Jackson ever needed a punching bag, someone to lean on or an ear to listen, Derek wanted him to know he would always be there. Even if he acted as savagely as he did now, he was never letting go of that wolf. He couldn't.

Jackson slumped against him and Derek's eyes widened. He pulled back and saw that Jackson had passed out. Somehow, that terrified him more than anything he'd seen that day. He would give Jackson a few hours to wake up and get back to, relative normalcy, before he brought in Deaton.

When Jackson opened his eyes, he was on Derek's bed. His head was resting on the alpha's thigh, who had a hand on his back, thumb idly stroking one of the scars. The loft had been scrubbed down, as he couldn't smell any blood and realized he must have been bathed.

His heart thumped wildly in his chest and he shivered as Derek ran his nails over his shoulder. He saw his hand resting on Derek's knee and felt the denim under his fingertips. He gripped it as he trembled, knowing that the sensations running through his body would stop and he didn't want that. The hand moved from his shoulder and Jackson lowered his eyes. A page was turned and the hand was back.

The alpha knew he was awake, but nothing was spoken. There was no shift in scents, except his. One of the pack was approaching the door and Jackson closed his eyes, hearing a soft knock. "Come in," Derek said, his voice just as quiet, as though Jackson wasn't awake.

Erica's scent filled the room and Jackson felt her eyes on him, gentle. "We're thinking Chinese for dinner," she said, barely above a whisper. "Do you think Jackson will be hungry?"

Jackson flinched and he heard a soft intake of air, as though Erica was frightened she had spoken too loudly and woken him. Jackson opened his eyes, gazing at her. She gave a small smile, before she nodded and closed the door. The hand on his shoulder continued to move and Jackson ran his thumbnail along the grooves of the jeans.

"What happened?" Jackson asked, watching his thumb. He could still feel the texture of the cotton.

"You passed out," Derek said and moved his hand to turn the page of the book he was reading. It was placed back on Jackson's shoulder. "How do you feel?"

Jackson frowned. He felt good, relaxed. He liked the feeling of Derek's fingers on his shoulder, stroking the scars he refused to heal. He didn't know how to convey that, though. Instead, he rolled over, placing his head on Derek's knee. The movement broke the contact he had with the alpha's hand, but he could watch the eyes scanning the words of the pages. Derek looked relaxed, as well. As though he had waited years for this moment.

"I don't know," he said quietly, realizing it was the truth.

Derek lowered the book and gazed at him. Jackson felt his chest tighten and his throat close. That pain wasn't coming from the alpha, though. He was feeling it, alone. Derek's eyes were gentle, not demanding anything, but asking all the same.

Jackson looked away from the eyes. "I'll—"

"Okay."

Jackson frowned and looked at Derek, seeing that he had the book raised again. Somehow, his chest seemed tighter than possible. He at least waited until Derek had finished speaking before he gave that emotionless answer. He glared and slapped his hands hard on Derek's leg as he sat up.

There was a slight growl from Derek, but Jackson was staring at his hands. His palms were red and he had felt a slight stinging when he slapped them down. As he stared at them, the red faded quickly and he frowned, pursing his lips.

"What, are you now shocked you have hands?" Derek asked, glancing at Jackson.

"It hurt," Jackson said and Derek lowered the book.

"What are you saying?"

Jackson shot from the bed when Derek reached out to check his hands. "Don't touch me," he said, a very slight tremor in his voice as he stared at Derek.

Stiles had tried to find his weakness. Stiles wanted to know if there was anything that could make him feel. Being near Derek made him feel. Derek touching him reminded him that he had a heart. Derek holding him made him feel safe. Derek was his weakness and that was one thing Jackson definitely did not like.

Derek slipped off the bed and Jackson was out the door and out of the loft. He ran, fear coursing through his veins as it used to whenever he was near Derek. He ran through the forest, unsure of where he was going. But he knew and he hated himself for it.

Jackson didn't return that night. Erica and Isaac had gone out searching for him. The three betas skipped school the next day, searching for his non-existent scent. Derek stared out the window, Stiles and Scott sitting on his sofa. Peter had gone out to check on the new pack, as Scott had followed a blood trail back to the Beacon Hills Motel on the edge of town.

"Where's Jackson?" Stiles asked.

Derek felt a muscle in his neck tense. He was tired of hearing Stiles ask about Jackson, as though Derek couldn't look after him. He relaxed when he realized he couldn't. Jackson had run from him…again. He had felt pain and he had run.

"Out," Derek answered. "He went out last night."

"Oh. And how's the whole emotionless thing going?" Stiles stared at Derek, who finally turned to him. Stiles looked down at the glare. "I'm curious," he mumbled.

"And we're worried," Scott added. "Stiles told me what Jackson did. He killed an alpha and didn't become one? Are you sure about that?"

"Yes," Derek seethed. "He's not an alpha."

"That…doesn't sound like Jackson," Scott said with a frown. "But how is he, after doing…what he did?"

"He's fine," Derek answered and rested against the wall beside the window, crossing his arms over his chest. "Not a damn problem with it."

Stiles cocked an eyebrow. "But…?" he pried.

"But," Derek growled with a glare. "The rest of it is none of your business, until he tells you about it."

Scott stared at Derek as though trying to read his mind. "You're scared of him."

"I'm scared for him." Derek lowered his eyes and shook his head, still seeing the cold gleam in Jackson's eyes when he removed the arm from the alpha. There was no remorse, no sense of caring what pain he caused. "What he did…I'm scared he'll do something like that with his pack."

Jackson's words whispered through Derek's mind. I'm not one of you. While he would admit the scars were hot, he would prefer the flawless skin of a werewolf beneath his fingers. And when he thought of the night before, Jackson had felt pain. Something was starting to click within his mind and Derek knew he had to nurture it.

"Damn," Scott said as he sat back and gazed at Derek coldly. "I almost believed that. You know for a fact that Jackson would never turn on you or your pack."

"His pack," Derek snapped, eyes flashing red.

"He doesn't see it that way," Scott said with a dismissive flick of his hand.

"Thanks, Scott. Super fucking helpful."

"Have you spoken to Deaton about him?" Stiles asked suddenly.

Jackson's standard answer came to Derek. "I didn't know I had to," he said and frowned.

"Take Jackson and go see him," Stiles said as he stood. "Make sure Deaton gives him a full physical. I wanna know I didn't do any damage to him."

Derek stared after them as they left the loft. Jackson had been different since the tests with Stiles. The emotions he knew came a little more freely than before. But the guilt he suffered would probably be the most damning of his emotions. If he fell apart, Derek wasn't sure if he could pick up the pieces and that worried him.

Gritting his teeth, Derek glared at the floor. He was the goddamn alpha of the Hale pack. He would die before he failed that duty again.

Grabbing his leather jacket, Derek left his loft. He ran into the woods, just knowing that Jackson would be in the old Hale house. He approached silently, listening for a beating heart and not expecting to hear it. He did hear it, though and it was upstairs. He frowned and went up the stairs, following the hallway and stopping outside a familiar room. His old bedroom.

Stepping into the room, Derek found Jackson curled up in the center of the ruined floor. As the sun came through the holes in the roof, the scars on Jackson's back seemed more prominent. The heart was beating, but the shoulders weren't moving. Derek would use that as a reason when Jackson suddenly spun around on his back and swept Derek's feet from under him. God, he loved the speed Jackson had.

Derek crashed through the destroyed floor and landed with a grunt on the main floor, staring up at the hole. Jackson slipped through it and landed like he weighed nothing and Derek refused to think of how good he looked moving that way, all muscle, strength and grace. He rested on a knee beside Derek, tilting his head as he gazed at him.

Seeing his eyes, Derek saw they were slightly red and sat up. Jackson didn't move, keeping his head lowered and Derek had to wonder what happened during the night. Jackson's heart kept a steady rhythm, but there was apology surrounding him, like he hadn't meant to send Derek crashing through the floor.

Jackson knelt there, like a statue as Derek stood. The only movement from him was his neck twitching. Derek placed a hand on his head and Jackson slapped a hand over his neck. He couldn't fault his newest beta anything. He had shown no fear, despite knowing it was his alpha he attacked. He had come down for his punishment.

"How do you feel?"

Jackson's head lowered, but the hand remained over his neck. "Better," he said, a tremor running through his body. He raised his head and looked up at Derek, resolution in his eyes. "When that pack comes for revenge, don't touch me."

Derek kept the hurt from his eyes, but he knew Jackson could hear how his heart thudded. An alpha being told not to touch their betas would always be painful. "Why?"

Jackson stood and stared into Derek's eyes. "Because I feel it."

"Well," Deaton said as he removed the stethoscope from Jackson. "He has a heartbeat, finally. But he still scars, I see. Those are all new."

"Yeah," Derek growled and glared at Jackson, who stared straight ahead. "Stiles decided to run some tests on him. Shot him with bullets, an arrow, shoved a baseball bat full of nails into him, tazered him and set him on fire."

"Don't forget the ax, as well."

Derek frowned. "What ax?"

Jackson tapped the scar on his shoulder. "That's from the ax."

Deaton got Jackson to stand up and checked the scars. "I can only see one bullet wound. Where was the other one?"

"Through my head," Jackson answered and Deaton looked up in surprise.

"I…I wasn't expecting that answer," Deaton finally said. "Now, what brings you here? I haven't really found out much about him. No one knows anything about this. It's a completely new case."

"He needs a physical, then," Derek said with a shrug.

"As far as I can tell, he's in peak condition." Deaton held Jackson's face in his hands, ignoring the warning rumble from Derek. "Have you been feeling anything recently?"

"Yes."

"Like what?" Deaton asked, checking Jackson's teeth. Jackson lowered his eyes and glanced at Derek quickly. "Ahh, you feel something when the alpha touches you?"

"Yes."

"Does it feel nice?" Deaton inquired, moving to Jackson's biceps, feeling the muscles.

"Most of the time."

"Oh," Deaton said, pressing on Jackson's abdomen. "There are times when it doesn't?"

"When it hurts."

"When what hurts?"

"Me."

Deaton glanced at Derek and beckoned him closer. When Derek was close enough for both of them to feel his warmth, Deaton pressed hard on Jackson's inner thigh. He nodded when Jackson hissed and glared down at him.

"Well, as it goes with any beta, the alpha makes them stronger," Deaton said as he checked Jackson's feet, before checking his hip, knee and ankle joints. When he was done, he stood back. "He is a perfect specimen of a werewolf."

Derek stared at Deaton. "What aren't you telling me?"

"I guessed it when I saw him last time, but your link with him? It isn't the normal link of an alpha with his beta. That link predates his transformation," Deaton said as he removed his gloves and threw them into the bin. "It began when you scratched him."

"What, the link?"

Deaton washed his hands and turned to Derek, drying them with paper towel. "Yes. You know where I'm going with this, Derek." His eyes moved to Jackson. "Hold out his hand."

Derek frowned, but did as Deaton said. He grabbed Jackson's left wrist and felt the warmth return to his body. Deaton handed Jackson a scalpel and Jackson didn't need any instruction, stabbing it through the palm of his hand. Derek looked away, refusing to see that.

Jackson screamed and Derek jumped back, releasing him. Jackson had sunk to his knees, holding his bleeding hand, his fingers curled up in pain. Once Derek let him go, the pain disappeared from Jackson's eyes and he removed the scalpel, the wound healing and adding to the scar already there.

"This one is going to be worse for him," Deaton said. "Hold him."

Derek swallowed and shook his head. "No. I'm not doing that to him."

"Hold him!"

Derek took hold of Jackson's wrist, pulling him to his feet. He wrapped his spare arm around Jackson's shoulders and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered as the scalpel sliced through the middle joint of the finger.

"Fuck! Why?"

Derek kept hold of Jackson. He took the pain from Jackson, releasing him when Deaton said so. It took longer than before, but the agony finally disappeared from Jackson's eyes and the finger regrew. Glaring at Deaton, Derek silently demanded an answer.

"Stiles did those tests to find his weakness. You're his weakness, Derek. I think that bullet through the brain did something," Deaton explained, wiping up Jackson's blood.

Derek looked at Jackson's hand, not seeing a scar. He gently massaged the finger and looked at Deaton. "The alpha is usually a beta's weakness," he said.

"You know it's more than that with Jackson," Deaton said quietly, his eyes locked with Derek's. "When he's near you, he feels everything he should. He'd probably feel the pull of the full moon. He remembers what life is like. He knows pain, now, for god sake."

"Of course he does! His finger was just cut off," Derek snapped.

"That's not what I meant and you know it, Derek." Deaton sighed. "Look, you wanted my help and I've given it. If you want to take down the alphas in the new pack, without having Jackson take their lives, you need to realize that you're each other's strength and weakness."

Derek pursed his lips for a moment, before breathing out, "My mate." The words were funny on his tongue, especially when referencing Jackson.

Deaton nodded. "You wanted him, so you marked him."

Derek lowered his eyes, checking the finger. It looked perfectly normal. He thought of all the times Jackson showed he felt nothing. He wasn't touching Derek when he removed body parts or stabbed himself through the chest. He was definitely nowhere near Jackson when Stiles performed those tests.

But as he looked at the hand of Jackson, Derek realized something. He looked up and Deaton nodded slowly, sorrow passing over his face for a moment. He didn't want to know what him being Jackson's weakness meant, but he was going to hear it.

"Yes. When he's near you, he can die."

End Chapter.

Thanks for reading. Hope y'all enjoyed it.

Peace.
Auska.