As it turns out, Derek doesn't appreciated getting text bombed with questions beginning with "yo bro" and shitty tumblr posts. Aside from the occasional threat of de-lunging me, he ignores them, not texting back unless it's something of a legit question. Such as:

So do we have to do something about Scotty the rest of the full moon nights or nah?
(A)
The first night is the only bad night
(D)
Sweet, good to know.

There are also the ones he secretly loves but has a rep to uphold, therefore acts like he doesn't like them. Behold:

Did you see that pic I sent you?
(A)
Stop texting me
(D)
The cat had blue glowy eyes! He looked just like you!
(A)
I'm going to rip out your lungs
(D)
Great to know. So I'm making banana nut muffins tonight, you want me to bring you some tomorrow?
Derek.
Derek.
Deeeeerrrrrreeeeek
I'm going to keep texting you until you answer.
Larry Talbot
Remus Lupin
Fenrir Greyback
Fangface
I literally have the entirety of google at my disposal, don't think I won't use it
Don't make me start calling you Twilight characters
Jacob Black
I'm going to give Stiles your number.
(A)
FINE BRING YOUR STUPID MUFFINS
(D)

I snort, dropping my phone on the bed next to me and throwing myself back into my pillows. What a drama queen. There's a short knock and I barely have time to sit up before the door is thrown open and Scott tumbles in, looking as pathetic as a teenage werewolf can. I arch a brow at him.

"Sure, mijo, come on in," I drawl as Scott faceplants into my bed. He doesn't move for a second, but when he does, he groans, grabbing my pillow and hugging it to him as flops over on his back. "Estás bien?" I ask, not really caring for the answer. He and Stiles have caused me too much stress for me to have much sympathy for either of them right now.

"My life is over," he whines.

"It will be if you don't explain why you're in here."

He throws me a glare without much heat. "Ares, this is serious! You remember those hunters from after the party?"

"Oh, you mean that one time you ran into the woods looking for Derek?" I drawl. "Yes, yes I do. I had to throw out my slippers because I couldn't get all the espinas out. You owe me, buddy."

"This isn't about your dumb slippers," he says. "Allison's dad is going to kill me!"

I crinkle my nose at him. "I know. That's what fathers of teen girls do to their new boyfriends." I pause, thinking of that when Aaron almost went on a murderous rampage at that idiot Eliot last year. Not that I opposed, but I'd rather my brother not go to jail for murder. "At least she doesn't have an older brother."

"No, that's not what I mean! Her dad was the hunter!" He brings the pillow up to his face and does a fine impression of someone trying to smother himself. I blink and take a second to let the words register. Then, because the universe can't hate Scott that much, I feel the need for a confirmation on what I just heard.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Does it look like I'm kidding you?" Scott sits up, looking absolutely miserable. "You know what else sucks?"

"You ability to look for the silver lining? ...Wait, no, stay away from silver," I add quickly. It's unneeded, as Scott barrels on as if I didn't even speak.

"We heard the Sheriff at school today. They're setting up a curfew."

I frown, lean forward a bit as I drop my elbows on my knees. "What? Why? Also, does this affect me?"

"The dead girl in the woods." He huffs and ignores the last question I tacked on. "They're setting up a curfew for all of us when the guy that did it is out there running around like nothing!"

"Did you think that maybe, just hear me out here, it's because there's a murderer out on the loose that there's gonna be a curfew?" I ask dryly. He looks up at me with eyes narrowed in disbelief.

"I'm talking about Derek!" My hand automatically goes for my phone. If Scott notices, he doesn't say anything. "It's all his fault!"

I nod slowly. "Right. His fault you didn't kill your little girlfriend Friday. I totally understand why you'd be mad. Though, maybe, for your next murder, don't pick the hunter's daughter?"

"I'm serious! He's the other wolf!"

"I know he's the other wolf, tonto," I snap, flicking him in the forehead. He huffs, slapping my hand away. "He didn't exactly make the most convincing human the other night."

Scott's eyes go wide in horror. "You were with him?" And shit, I might not have actually mentioned that part of my little adventure when out looking for him the other night. "Ares, he's dangerous!"

"So dangerous he gave me a piggy back ride through the forest?"

"He what?"

I sigh, shaking my head. "Scott, Derek isn't the one who bit you. He told me himself."

"You believed him?" He sounds so much like Stiles right now it's actually kinda terrifying. We should limit the amount of time they spend together.

"I pride myself for my ability to weed out the chill guys from the idiots," I say lightly. "Look, he might be kind of a hard ass, but he didn't kill anyone."

Scott glares at the wall, his chest heaving as he tries to get control of his anger. "I don't want you hanging out with him."

I snort my laughter. "Right, I'll keep that in mind. You sound like Aaron, dude. You think maybe you're overreacting?"

"He turned me into a werewolf!"

I drop my face into my hands. "It wasn't him, burro cabezon!"

"Don't call me that!"

"Then don't act like one!" I snap. We sit in a tense silence for a moment before I take a breath. "Scott, I don't need you to tell me what to do right now, okay? I had enough of that back home." He at least has the since to look a little guilty, which, good. "What you need to worry about right now is learning how to keep your head together so you don't end up eating someone during a game." He ducks his head. I narrow my eyes at him. "Qué pasó?"

Scott mutters something incoherently, glancing up with those stupid wide puppy eyes.

"Dude, don't mumble."

"I almost hurt Stiles!" he exclaims.

"You what?!"

"It was an accident!" He runs his hands through his hair. "Jackson was being such an asshole during practice and I got mad-"

"Is the idiot still alive?"

"Jackson? Yeah."

I lean back. "Well, there's that at least. No murder charges for your mom to worry about." I pause, realization sinking in. "Oh, shit, dude, we still need to tell your mom!" I cover my face with my hands. "Oh, god, I am not looking forward to that."

"What? Ares, no!" I look over at Scott when he grabs my arm, and his face is panicked. "We can't tell my mom!"

I sit up, and he comes up with me. "Mijo, she has to know, you can't just keep her in the dark. Fuck, if we really wanted to play it safe, we should tell Sheriff Stilinski too." I chew my thumb, thinking. That would be best. He could protect Scott from the hunters. Legally. And who doesn't want an inside on the local law enforcement? Most paranormal mysteries series have one, and it works out pretty well for them...

"Ares, no! Please, we can't tell them!" he begs, bringing me out of my thoughts. "They're going to think I'm some kind of freak!"

I blink at him in shock. His eyes brim with tears, and shit. "Scotty, you're not a freak-"

"I grow fangs and claws! My mom..." he wipes at him face. "She won't understand. Can't we just wait? Until I have it figured out?"

I sigh, reach out and put a hand on his shoulder. "We'll wait. If it makes you feel better, we won't tell her yet, okay? But we are going to tell her. And the Sheriff. Alright?"

He nods, and I know I'm going to regret this later. "I just don't want her to look at me and see some monster, a bad guy," he laments, looking like he murdered someone's puppy.

I squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. "Scott, you're not a bad guy," I promise him. "Bad guys don't cry during BH6 and Where the Wild Things Are."

"Ares!"

I grin at the red hue his face takes. "They don't volunteer to walk the dogs and play with them on weekends," I go on. "And they don't bother to ask for second chances with the girls of their dreams." His eyes go full Steven Universe at the mention of Alice or Allison or whatever her name is. "You might be an idiot sometimes, but you're not a bad guy."

"You really think so?"

"Mijo, I know so," I tell him. His face lights up, only for any evidence of happiness to drop at my next words. "Because if you even think about acting like those fuckboys I used to see hanging around back home, I will personally castrate you with a silver knife, got it?" The color drains from his face and his mouth opens and closes. I smile brightly up at him before standing up, grabbing my phone from the bed. "I'm making banana nut muffins, wanna help?"

"I, uh, I t-told Stiles I'd video call him."

Ah yes, the fear of men gives me life.

I shrug. "Your loss, kid."

"Hey, Ares," he calls as I start out the door. I pause, glance back at him. "You'll come to my game Saturday, right?"

I give him a confused smile. "Do you want me there, mijo?" He nods earnestly. I grin at him. "Then I'm there."

Terrifying at night though it might be, the preserve is something out of a Disney movie on sunny clear days. And while I can't say I trust the shitty little road leading to the Hale House, the Turtle is more than capable when it comes to shit roads. You don't live in Texas and not know how to maneuver around potholes. It's safe to say that the Turtle does not move at the pace of its namesake as I go deliver Derek's muffins.

You know, if Derek was an old lady and I had on my red hoodie instead of my grey Pretty Reckless sweatshirt, this might have been an excellent opportunity for Red Riding Hood pun. But because I'm a respectable human being, I avoid using my red hoodie when hanging out with Scott and Derek now, which sucks, because I love my red hoodie. It has the Steven Universe Star. It's beautiful.

It is because of my less-than-cautious driving I almost run down a certain teenaged werewolf as he comes speeding down the trail in the opposite direction as me on his bike.

"Shit!" I slam on the brakes, skidding to a stop a mere foot away from the kid on the bike. He looks up in shock as I throw the Turtle in park and jump out, slamming the door. "Scott! Estás bien?!"

He hops off the bike, pulling his helmet off his head as he nods. "Yeah, I'm fine. Wh-OW, Ares!" he exclaims as I punch his arm and smack him upside the head

"Qué estás haciendo aquí, pendejo!" I shout. "I almost killed you!"

"Ares, stop hitting me!"

I give him one more solid punch before stepping back. "What the hell are you doing here?" I demand. "You have work in thirty minutes."

"I came to talk to Derek," he says with a scowl. "He's ruining everything!"

I close my eyes, take a breath. "What did he do?"

"He isn't letting me play lacrosse."

The urge to slam my head - or his, I'm not picky - into a tree is strong. Instead, I cross my arms and arch a brow at him. "I want you to think about what you just said, how you said it, and realize you sound like a five year old. Scott, if you're gonna be hurting people, isn't it better if you don't play?"

"You don't get it! He threatened me last night!" he shouts. My arms drop as he reaches behind his back and pulls out his lacrosse stick. "He tore up my crosse just now!"

And lo and behold, the small netting part of the stick is torn, three huge holes making themselves very obvious.

"Last night?" My brows furrow in confusion. "While we were home?"

Scott nods, glaring at the ground as if it had personally offended him. "When I was talking to Stiles."

Rage, cold and hard, settles in the pit of my stomach. "He came into the house? While I was in the kitchen?" Scott nods once, not looking up. "Did he hit you at all?"

"What? No, not really-"

"Not really?" I drop my head in my hands. "You gotta be kidding me. Did he do anything else?" I demand, picking my head up. Scott glances up at me. "Dime la verdad."

"He came to the school," he admits. "Got into Allison's locker and put her cardigan from the night of the party in it. She thought it was Lydia."

I rub my face. So apparently I'm not that good at weed out idiots if Derek Hale has the audacity to threaten my little cousin. "Alright. Alright, go to work. I'll deal with this."

Scott's face warps in horror. "Ares, you can't go!" He grabs my arm as I make to get back in the Turtle.

"You better fuckin' watch me," I snap, pulling free. "I'm not gonna stand around and let him treat you like that."

"He's dangerous!"

"Never stopped me before," I tell him. His brows furrow in confusion. "I literally lived with a psychopath for five years, mijo. Derek isn't shit compared to my dad's wife." Scott takes a step back as I jump in the Turtle, slam the door shut. "Go to work," I order through the open window, snapping on my seatbelt. "I'll talk to him. And don't come looking for him until I give the okay, alright?"

"Be careful," Scott pleads, dragging his bike out of the way.

I give him a small smile. "I'll be fine. He can't afford to kill me; I feed him."

"You're still doing that?"

"It's either the muffins or Bambi in the woods. I'm the lesser of two evils." I throw a quick salute before putting the Turtle in drive and stepping on the gas.

The Hale House looks just as desolate and dilapidated as the last time I was here. The black Camaro from preserve on Scott's first full moon sits off the side of the house. I narrow my eyes at it, throwing the car in park. Since there's a distinct lack of werewolf on the porch, I slam my hand on the horn and only let off when Derek stalks out of the house, looking like something straight out of a suburban mom's wet dream.

I jump out of the car, not even bothering to shut the door as I march up to him, hands balling up into fists as I go.

"What the hell was that?" he demands, dropping down the steps to meet me. "Are you trying to let everyone in town know where we are?"

"You son of a bitch." My fist connects to his jaw, pain shooting through my hand. Derek, surprised by the attack, stumbles back as I shake out my hand.

"Ares, what the fuck!?" His eyes flash blue in his rage. Not thinking twice, I toss up my keys, catching it by the small container of pepper spray, and hold it up level to said blue eyes.

"Back the fuck up, Hale," I say, taking a step forward. He glares, eyes darkening back to green, but complies. "How fucking dare you come into our house and threaten Scott!"

"Would you rather him go and kill someone on the field?" he snarls, leaning forward. I tighten my grip on the spray.

"You think I'm playing? Back up!"

His expression darkens. "You really think a little pepper spray is gonna stop me?"

"You never know if you never try," I snap. "So unless you're absolutely sure this isn't going to fuck your shit up, you better back up."

He holds his ground for all of five seconds before taking a step back.

"Why were you at the school?" I demand. "Scott's girlfriend has nothing to do with this shit."

"You think she'll keep quiet if she finds out about him?" he asks. "She opens her mouth, it isn't just her family trying to get Scott, it's everyone." I open my mouth to counter, but he cuts me off. "And as much as you think you can protect him, you can't, Ares. You'll just get in the way."

"How about you let me worry about that. I can deal." He scoffs, but he doesn't look like he's about to rip out my lungs anymore, so that's a plus. "You're supposed to be teaching him how to control it," I accuse, dropping my arm.

"How am I supposed to do that if he doesn't listen?"

I let my head fall back. "Well, you can start by not being such an abusive asshole!" He seems taken aback by the insult, but he can deal. I call them like I see them. "Seriously, he's a teenager, Derek. You think he's gonna listen to you when you're threatening him?"

He glares off at the trees. "It's for his own good."

I lean back, cocking my head to the side, because, no, he did not just say that. Of all the things, not that. "Excuse me? No, you don't get to justify your actions with that."

"If you're just going to bitch and moan about this, then why don't you just stay out of it?" Derek snarls, leaning in entirely too close for comfort. I glare at him, not giving him the satisfaction of having me step back.

"Fuck off, Derek." I draw myself up to my full height, and while it isn't as tall as the asshat in front of me, it's enough to get his attention. "Either start doing something useful with Scott without hurting him or stay the fuck away from him, got it?" I take a step forward. "Or I'll personally make sure he's the only wolf in Beacon Hills."

I turn on my heels, leaving Derek seething on the steps. When I get to the car, the tub of muffins mock me from the passenger seat. I let out an annoyed growl as I grab them.

"Here's your stupid muffins," I snap, throwing it at Derek's face. He catches it easily, all anger melting away into shock. "Asshole," I mutter, shutting the door with enough force to rattle the windows.

Because Beacon Hills is filled with assholes and fuckboys, I'm once again stuck home alone on a Friday night. It might also have something to do with the fact that the only people I know are Deaton and the guys from the Sheriff's Station. Family and Stiles don't count. Either way, I'm not feeling that any of them would be down for hitting up any clubs.

My life.

"Ares?"

I look up from my phone to see Melissa standing at my door. "Hey, Tia, what's up?" I ask, dropping my phone next to me. Her lips quirk into a sly smile at the sight as she leans against the door frame.

"Anyone special?" she asks lightly. I drop my head back.

"Tia. I'm texting Alicia. Apparently she found herself a man to terrorize," I say lightly, waving my phone in my hand. Melissa's eyes go wide in alarm for a second before she offers an uneasy smile. Let it be known that my sister is quite possibly the personification of the song "Blank Space."

"Oh, well then. Good for her."

I nod. "Yup."

"Alright, well, I'm working the late shift tonight, and Scott is staying with Stiles."

"So big empty house for myself?"

"Big empty house for yourself," Melissa repeats. "Remember to keep the doors locked." I shoot her double finger pistols, clicking my tongue. She rolls her eyes and pushes off to leave. "Be good."

"I'll have you know I am always good," I call after her.

"I recall a certain car that says differently," she says over her shoulder before disappearing down the hall. I crinkle my nose, recalling the incident that lead to my banishment to Beacon Hills.

"She deserves every horrible thing that happens to her and you know it!" I shout.

"Doesn't make it okay!"

"Makes it perfectly okay," I mutter to myself, throwing myself back on the bed, arm tossed over my eyes. "Fuck Elisa."

Before the anger toward that Demon Woman can fully manifest and completely ruin my night, I bring up my phone and pull up the reddit app. Since my life is now officially a nosleep, it helps to read others and put my life into perspective. Look for the silver lining, as I told Scotty. My dear baby cousin might be a man eating wolf every full moon, but at least we don't have skinwalkers roaming around the preserve.

Seriously, fuck skinwalkers.

I'm about halfway through one one of the more famous stories of the nosleep community-something to do with mold-when my phone vibrates in my hand.

"Son of a whore! Who the hell?" I mutter, rubbing my nose where the phone had landed. I sit up, glaring at my phone. Glaring at the name.

Derek (1 new message)

Come outside
(D)
piss off im mad at you
what do you want?
(A)
Just come outside
(D)

"Asshole," I mutter, rolling out of bed as I stuff my phone in the front pocket of my hoodie, seeing as to how the leggings I had changed into earlier don't have any. There's a pair of combat boots I had stolen from my brother by the door, so I shove my feet in them without bothering to tie them before trudging down the stairs. A quick glance at the mirror in the hall makes it obvious what crap my hair is, but fuck Derek. He doesn't deserve to see my hair nice.

Asshole.

The Camaro sits in the driveway next to my Turtle when I walk out, closing the door behind me. Derek leans against the front of it, arms crossed and and face pinched. Said pinched face relaxes enough for his brow to raise when he sees me glare down at him.

"Qué quieres?" I demand, crossing my arms. He pushes off his car and walks forward several steps.

"No pepper spray this time?" he asks dryly. I reach into my front pocket and pull out my keys, pepper spray hanging in all it's glory. He shakes his head, muttering under his breath something I can't hear but is probably rude. "Look, there's a reason I'm here."

"Scott's not here if it's to traumatize him," I drawl.

"I'm not - Are you always this difficult?" he demands.

"I thought you'd have figured that out by now." I lean back against the door frame. "What do you want?"

"I came to…" he trails off, looking thoroughly annoyed with himself. "To apologize."

"Bullshit."

He growls in annoyance. "Look, Scott isn't going to listen to me, I get that." I scoff and roll my eyes, but let him go on. "But you? He listens to you."

I narrow my eyes at him. "You don't know that."

He gives me an incredulous look. "You know what he said when he came to my house today? When I told him he'd hurt people? 'Ares won't let me.'" My arms drop as he goes on, not stopping him from walking up the steps. "'Ares won't let me be the bad guy.' That's what he said." Derek stops in front of me, this time mindful of personal space. "You're the closest thing he has to an Alpha right now."

I shift, not entirely sure how to take this information. "Shouldn't his Alpha be his mom?"

Ah, there's the look of disbelief that clearly states how little Derek thinks of me. "Does his mom know about any of this?" he demands, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets.

My head falls back, because, seriously. My life.

"I hate you. I hate you." I pick up my head and glare at the low-key smug expression coating his face. "So what now?"

He pulls his hand out of his pocket, keys hanging from their chain. "Get in the car. We'll decide over food, since that's the only time you seem to be civil."

He doesn't even give me a chance to argue before turning on his heels and jumping down the steps to his car.

"You're still an asshole," I call after him, turning to lock the front door.

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Translations

1. Estás bien? - Are you okay?
2. espinas - Splinters
3. Tonto - fool/stupid/thoughtless, ect
4. burro cabezon - stubborn donkey/ass
5. Qué pasó? - What happened?
6. Qué estás haciendo aquí, pendejo - What are you doing here, stupid/idiot
7. Dime la verdad - Tell me the truth
8 Qué quieres? - What do you want?