The irritation hits when Scott comes barging into my room after having his ass handed to him by Derek. His shirt is ripped, a little bloody, but the wound isn't there anymore. Still, I make a mental note to tell Derek that maybe next time don't make Scotty bleed. He's dirty and sweaty and he almost sounds like he's having an attack he's so angry.

"You knew?!" he snaps, stalking forward. I glance up at him, not bothering to sit up. "You knew about the Alpha and you didn't tell me?!"

"Your mom's asleep," I say. "Keep your voice down."

"I don't have to keep my voice down! You knew there was another wolf out there!" Scott's seething, and his eyes keep flashing yellow. Welp. So much for any of this going well. I take a breath and sit up straight.

"Scott, I'm gonna be real with you," I tell him, keeping my voice calm and neutral, because he's Delgado, and Delgados tend to not take being yelled at lightly. "I've told you over and over again that Derek isn't the one you gotta fight. You didn't want to listen to me. Now, I'm not in the mood to deal with your melodrama." His face warps in anger. "I get that you don't like Derek. Fine. Whatever. But I asked you to trust me, and you didn't. That's on you."

"You want me to trust you when you aren't telling me things!"

I stand and Scott's glare wavers as he realizes his mistake and takes a step back. "Like you told me you smelled blood at Derek's house? Like you told me you went and dug up his fuckin' sister? Like you told me you sent him to jail?" I cross the room, forcing Scott back and out of my room. "Don't give me shit when you did the exact same thing." I lean back, try to reel in the sudden burst of anger. "Scotty, there's a fucking monster werewolf after you now, you get that, don't you?" I ask him. He doesn't answer, just looks away. "It's killed people. And you're barely in control of yourself as it is, do you really think you could have handled that on top of what you're going through right now?"

"You still should have told me," he says.

"And what would you have done?" I wrap my arms around my middle. "Scott, we're out of our depth right now," I tell him quietly. "I don't know what I'm doing. You don't know what you're doing. Stiles can only google so much before it ends up being all bullshit. We need Derek, even though you don't like him."

"We can figure it out without him," Scott says, but there isn't much conviction in his voice.

"No, mijo. I don't really think we can." I shake my head, everything starting to sink in. Derek being threatened, the driver dying, the Alpha. "Go clean up and go to sleep. You have school tomorrow."

He looks like he wants to argue, but he must see how tired I feel, because he sighs and turns to leave. He pauses in the hallway, and I move to the doorway to catch his next words. "Ares... I still trust you, but you can't hide things from me like Derek does." I sigh, dropping my head on the doorway.

"Lo siento, mijo."

"And..." He trails off, like he doesn't want to say what he's thinking. "About Derek. Just be careful with him."

Kid's a Delgado through and through. "I'm always careful, little cousin. Now go to bed."

I close the door before he can add anything else and rest my head on it, waiting to hear his footsteps move toward his room. "Be careful with him." There was something in his voice, something layered in that I couldn't decipher, like he knows something he isn't telling me. I shake my head. Maybe I'm just overthinking it.

The irritation hit when Scott came barging in my room for answers.

The cramps hit three hours later.

Once a month, for four days, my life is a living hell. During these four days, everyone knows to leave me alone. My phone stays off, my door stays closed, and Melissa gets me free samples of the extra strength pain reliever from the hospital. If I'm lucky, I sleep through the whole thing. Well. When I'm not at work. Because work still happens.

The pounding on the door echoes through my head, slamming the sides of my head, reminding me all too much of that hangover I suffered just before coming up to California. Bless older siblings and their suero, and curse the fact they aren't here with me right now.

I whimper, curl my arms over my head and bury myself deeper in my blankets. I only just got home.

"Ares!" Stiles cries through the door. "Ares, I know I'm not supposed to bother you right now, but this is an emergency!" He doesn't wait for an answer, judging by how I can hear my door creak open slowly. "Ares?"

I take a second to sort through the pros and cons of killing him.

Pro: I can go back to sleep.

Con: Sheriff Stilinski will kill me.

Pro: I can suffer in peace.

Con: Scott will never speak to me again.

Con: I'll have to deal with Scott by myself.

Shit.

"I swear to fuckin' god, Stiles, you better be fuckin' dying," I growl, forcing myself up and facing the door. Stiles has his head poked through the small slit in the door he made. His face goes pale when he sees me, which, okay. Way to make me feel good about myself. "Qué quieres?"

"Okay, so I'm not dying," Stiles says carefully. I glare at him and he winces before going on. "He is." He opens the door and lo and behold. Derek Hale in my hallway looking like someone shot him up with entirely too much drugs using a dirty syringe.

"Madres de Dios! Derek!" I exclaim, jumping up, for a second forgetting my own ailment. "Stiles, what the fuck happened?!"

"I got shot," Derek says through gritted teeth. I stare up at them, trying to make sense of their words.

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?"

"I didn't know where else to take him!" Stiles exclaims, gesturing wildly. "He was making the jeep smell like death!"

Derek doesn't reply, though he does growl at Stiles. I take that as a good sign as I try to make sense of what's unfolding in front of me.

"Shit. Shitshitshit." I run my hands through my hair, pulling it out of my face and taking a deep breath. "Melissa's gonna be home soon." I look up at Stiles hopefully. "Maybe she can fix this?"

Stiles shakes his head furiously. "No, absolutely not, Melissa cannot know about Scott ever, at all, especially like this."

"Why not?" I snap, and Stiles takes a step back. Derek, near death that he is, arches a brow.

"Scott will literally kill you if his mom finds out about him!"

"This bullet will literally kill Derek!" I exclaim, gesturing to where Derek is leaning on my door frame. It's on his good arm, which is great, because no blood on the house. That'd suck. Melissa would ask questions.

Stiles makes a face. "What's the problem with that?"

I throw my head back. Close my eyes and take a deep breath, counting down to ten as I exhale. Killing this Stilinksi would lead to death at the hands of the older Stilinski. Remember that, Ares. "Stiles. If you're not going to help, then just fuckin' leave." I look at him and he swallows thickly. "But I'd appreciate it if you weren't an asshole and stayed." I look to Derek. Pale, ghastly, druggy looking Derek. "How do we fix this?"

"I need the same kind of bullet I was shot with. Scott's at Argent's trying to get it."

"Argent shot you?!"

"One of them did."

The temptation to just curl up and cry is strong. So very strong. "How's that going?"

"He isn't answering my texts, and when he does, it's just 'need more time, making out with Allison.'" Stiles pauses. "Okay, not the last part, but that's what it means."

"He would," I mutter, turning to my bad and searching through my covers for my phone. "We can't stay here," I say, turning it on once I found it. "Deaton closes up in a couple hours. We can go there before Melissa gets home. Text Scott again. See where the hell he is."

Stiles nods, pulls out his phone. I look up at Derek.

"You really dying?"

He shakes his head once. "Not yet."

"Not yet." I nod. "Okay. That's good."

It's not good. It's so very not good it almost makes me want to cry. But I'll take what I can get.

Derek rides in the Turtle with me when we go to the animal clinic. Stiles refused to have him in his jeep again, and I didn't feel like arguing. The entire way, my lower stomach feels like Freddy Krueger is scrapping it out from the inside. I forgot to take medicine before leaving. Because that's my life.

"You still alive?" I ask, pulling up to the clinic. Derek gives me a flat look, impressive considering his predicament. He looks like a very unamused zombie. "Forgive me for asking," I mutter, shutting off the car and throwing open the door as Stiles pulls up two spots away.

"So what's the plan?" Stiles asks, pulling open Derek's door and helping him out.

"Wait here for Scott," I say through gritted teeth, waiting for a particularly bad cramp to pass.

"Damn, you look about as bad as Derek," Stiles says, and I'm not sure I was supposed to hear it, because he ducks his head when I glare at him.

"I'm fine," I snap. "Maybe focus on the one that's actually dying?"

With that, I leave Stiles to deal with Derek and jump out of the Turtle, go around back to find the spare key Deaton leaves lying around. Once we're in, Stiles drops Derek on a pile of dog food.

"Have you told Scott where we are?" I ask, struggling to keep the stress out of my voice as I head for the examination room. Because Derek looks like absolute shit. Like, he might actually die.

"He says Allison's aunt made him stay for dinner," Stiles says when he manages to drag Derek in after me.

"Since when the hell does she have a tia?" Stiles shrugs. "Look, whatever, just tell him to hurry up."

"What do you think I've been doing?!"

"Just fucking tell him again, Stiles!" I shout. His face falls for a second before his expression hardens and he pulls out his phone.

"Fine. I'll tell him to call me."

I don't bother answering him, though I do feel bad for losing my cool on him. It's not his fault Derek got shot and is bleeding black blood and has gross black veins and- I need to stop before I work myself into a panic attack.

"If we get this bullet, you'll be fine, right?" I ask, curling my arms around my stomach as I lean on the table next to Derek. He glances down at me.

"Should be. But it needs to be soon." He pauses. "Are you okay?"

I snort, a poor attempt to hide my fear. "I'm not the one with the bullet in my arm. I just need to take a Midol and I'll be fine."

"Right." He doesn't seem convinced, considering how he stares down at my shaking hands. I ball them up into fists and cross my arms, tucking them away.

"Hey, does Nordic Blue Monkshood mean anything to you?" Stiles asks suddenly, looking up from his phone.

"It's a rare form of wolfsbane," Derek explains. "He needs to bring me the bullet."

"Why?" Stiles asks, glancing back down at his phone.

"Because I'm gonna die without it," Derek says flatly. Well, as flatly as one can through labored breathing. And really, that isn't something I need to hear. Not on top of this bullshit period and hormone imbalance and cramps and fucking emotions.

"Well, that's just fan-fucking-tastic," I mutter darkly. "The best. Stiles, isn't this just great?"

Stiles looks at me with wide, nervous eyes. "Not really. Scott probably isn't even actively trying to get out of this dinner."

And he has a point. Because Scott always liked Allison better than Derek. Not that he'd actively try to kill Derek. But still. Shit. Derek is gonna die. "Are you sure we can't just, I dunno, boil some arnica, soak your arm in the tea, and call it good?" I ask, pacing. "I mean, we have some at home, have a whole bag, it'd be faster than waiting for-"

"Ares, now is not the time for your Mexican voodoo witchcraft," Stiles snaps, and I draw back in offense.

"Um, excuse you, first of all, it's called brujería, second of all, using arnica isn't that, it's common sense, and lastly, if you have any other ideas, please, share with the class, we'd love to hear them."

Stiles blinks owlishly, looking between me and Derek. Who's dying. "I got nothing. Unless you know how to get Scott here right now this instant."

I look up at him sharply, a fragmented idea taking hold and warping into something like an idea - good or bad, I'm not sure yet and I'm not in the mood to question it - takes hold before I can think better of it. Stiles glances up at me and does a double take before a grin slowly spreads across his face.

"Tell Scott I'm calling him. ell him to take the call where they can hear me. Tell him to play along. He's leaving that house now."

The grin doesn't leave Stiles face as he looks down at his phone, tapping out the message. "Oh man, Derek, you are in for a treat," Stiles says brightly. "At least if you die, you get to see the glory that is full rage Ares first."

Derek looks between Stiles and me, expression laced with confusion. I narrow my eyes at Stiles before pulling out my phone and searching through my contacts. It doesn't take long to find Human Puppy, and when I press call and bring the phone to my ear, Stiles claps in giddiness.

It rings four times before Scott picks up.

"Hey, I can't really-"

"Donde estás?" I demand.

"I'm at Allison's, you knew that," he says quickly. "Ares, I need to go-"

"Si te cuelgas el teléfono voy a matarte!" I hiss, and if I lay on the stereotypical loud Mexican voice, no one should blame me. "You're supposed to pick me up some Midol! I've been texting you all day!"

Stiles snorts his laughter.

"I know, but Allison's aunt invited me to stay for dinner!"

"Oh, so you're girlfriend's tia is more important than me? Get home now, or so help me-"

"Ares, she wants me to stay for dessert!"

I take a breath. "Scott, my uterus doesn't care who invited you to stay for dessert. I can literally feel my insides being stripped away. So you have fifteen minutes to get home or there won't be enough left of you to bring home!" I shout into the phone. Stiles and Derek stare at me with wide eyes as I wait for Scott's answer.

"I'll be there in ten minutes," he says faintly.

"Thank you." I end the call and look up at the guys. Stiles takes a step back. Derek shifts his weight, but doesn't move. "He'll be here in ten minutes," I say calmly, pulling my hair out of its ponytail and retying it tighter. "You'll be good for ten minutes, right?"

Derek nods once. "Ten minutes. I'll live that long."

"Good." I clap my hands, because well done, Ares, you go girl. Way to save Derek's life. "Then I'm leaving. Derek, don't die before Scott gets here. Stiles-"

"You're leaving me with him?!" Stile exclaims, gesturing to Derek, who glowers at the kid.

"I am bleeding from my nether regions, Stiles," I tell him. He cringes as I go on. "I'm going to go home. I'm going to internalize everything that's happened today, because honestly, this is all very traumatizing, and if either of you bug me for anything other than ice cream before I'm done, I. Will. Bleed. On. You," I growl, taking a step forward with every word. Stiles grabs Derek's not hurt arm and pulls him back with him, both of them watching me in something akin to horror.

"Have fun with that," Stiles says weakly as I push past him to leave.

"Just keep Derek alive," I snap, throwing open the door and letting it slam shut behind me.

It isn't until I get in my car that everything hits. Derek almost died. Derek is on the verge of dying. There's a psychotic werewolf trying to recruit my little cousin. Hunters are trying to kill Scott and Derek. Scott's girlfriend is a hunter. Maybe.

I take a shuddering breath and lean forward, resting my head on the wheel for a second. Try to get myself together.

"Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry," I whisper to myself. "Cry at home."

I pick my head up, wipe at my eyes, and turn on the car.

Seriously. Fuck Beacon Hills.

Every now and then, the Higher Being takes pity on you for having such a shitty month and decides to throw you a bone when you get home from work. Or, in this case, a very much alive Derek Hale waiting on the front porch.

"Well, it's good to see that you're not dead," I drawl, walking up the steps. He rolls his eyes as I go on. "You look better."

And he does. The color is back in his face and his eyes have that 'everything in the world is horrible' shine thing going on. He's in the same jacket, but it's clean now, so points for him. He even has his hair in that frohawk he always wears.

"I could say the same for you."

"It was a bad day, but I wasn't the one dying," I remind him, moving past him to open the door.

"Well, I'm not going to drop dead anytime soon anymore," he says. "No matter how much your cousin might want me to."

My head drops to the side as I turn to face him, standing in the now open door.. "I can't even really argue with you there." I cross my arms and lean against the door frame. "What's up?"

He brings up his hand, and there's a plastic bag hanging from it. "I brought this. For you." I look at him curiously and he drops his gaze, finding our shoes very interesting as he goes on. "Stiles said the only reason I'm not dead right now is because of 'Full Rage Ares,'" he says in way of explanation.

I throw my head back and groan. "God, why would you bring that back up?" I whine, and when I look back up at Derek, he's smiling. A full, real smile and okay wow. He has a nice smile. Like sunshine and rainbows and not like a serial killer. It's adorable and my life mission is now to see it as many times as possible.

"It was impressive. I can threaten people with murder all I want, but it's not nearly as effective as threatening to bleed on someone."

"Noo!" I drop my face in my hands. "I can't be held accountable for what I said while on my period. I wasn't mentally sound!" I peek up at him through my fingers. "Why aren't you completely disgusted right now?"

He gives me a flat look. "I've heard worse from Laura, Ares."

I narrow my eyes at him, trying to find a lie. "So what'd you bring me?" I ask, holding my hand out and making grabby motions. He rolls his eyes and hands it over. I open the bag and my eyes go wide at the goods inside. "You got me chocolate ice cream?" I look up at him with full Steven Universe eyes and he ducks his head. "And Oreos and cookie dough!"

"You didn't let me die last night, so…" Oh lord, he's turning red. I cock my head to the side and smile at him brightly.

"Derek Hale, do you appreciate me?" I sing.

He huffs, rolling his eyes. "Shut up."

"I appreciate you too," I tell him solemnly, then grin and hold up the bag. "Come on, we're making slutty brownies!" Before he can argue, I grab his hand and throw open the door, pulling him in after me.

"Slutty what?" Derek demands as I lead him to the kitchen. I look back at him, eyes wide in horror.

"Slutty brownies! Have you never had those? It's like, edible diabetes, it's the best," I assure him. He stares down at me looking as if he realized the mistake in gifting me sugary goods.

"Regret getting you anything," he mutters when I let go of his hand to stop by the fridge, dropping the ice cream in the freezer and grabbing two eggs from the fridge.

"Whatever. Go wash your hands," I order, dropping the bag on the counter and pulling out the cookies and dough before checking to make sure the oven is empty and turning it on. Imagine my surprise when I first moved up here and found that Melissa actually had the cabinet space for her pots and pans and didn't store them in the stove. It was revolutionary, honestly. Makes baking so much easier. Derek takes off his jacket and drops it on a chair and rolls up his sleeves before turning on the sink. I glance over at his arm as I pull out a brownie pan from one of the cupboards. There isn't so much as a scar left.

"Them werewolf powers are pretty handy, huh," I say, hip checking him out of the way once he's done so that I could get my own hands clean. He growls, but honestly it sounds more like a puppy than a werewolf. I snort, and Derek, absolute child that he is, flicks the water on his hands at me. "Open the cookie dough, Fangface," I tell him, wiping my face with my arm.

"I thought we were making brownies," he says, but does as I ask. I roll my head to look at him.

"Slutty brownies, Derek." I turn off the water and flick my hands at him, revenge reasons. "The best kind of brownies. Used to make them at Sonya's in high school." After drying my hands, I nod to the dough and pan. "Spread the dough on the bottom, then layer the Oreos on top. I'll start the brownie batter," I tell him, pulling out a large bowl and measuring cups before raiding the pantry for the brownies and veggie oil.

"This sounds incredibly unhealthy."

"It is. That's what makes it so good." I pause, dumping the mix into the bowl along with the oil, eggs, and water. "So did you ever figure out who shot you?" His expression is closed off when I glance up at him. "Oh, come on. I'm just gonna end up finding out eventually."

He sighs, "I have a pretty good idea of who it was."

"And…?" I prod, grabbing a whisk from the silverware drawer and getting to work with the mix.

"It might have been Allison's aunt."

"That… that's unfortunate." I slow my stirring as I think. "Is that whole family crazy?"

"Probably," Derek drawls.

"Okay, but what about the mom? I haven't heard anything shady about Allison's mom."

Derek puts down the Oreo in his hand and turns to face me. "Ares. In hunting families, it's the Matriarch that's in charge of everything."

I throw my head back and groan. "Oh my gawd, why can't anyone in this town be normal?!"

"I'm normal." Derek and I whirl around to see Melissa standing at the entryway of the kitchen. She cocks her head to the side. "Well, normal enough." She nods to Derek. "Who're you and why does Ares trust you enough to bring you home?"

My head drops. "Oh my god."

Derek clears his throat. "I'm Derek Hale."

"He's my drug dealer," I add brightly, slapping Derek's chest lightly. Melissa arches a brow and Derek looks down at me in horror.

"Your drug dealer?"

"He brought ice cream?"

Melissa's face brightens with a smile and she claps her hands. "In that case, he can come over anytime and sell all the drugs he wants." She jerks a thumb behind her. "I'm working late, so lock the door and make sure Scott doesn't eat junk. Also, save me some brownies, please." She brings her hands up together at the "please." I shoot her finger pistols.

"Can do, tia mia."

She nods once before turning to leave. "Be good!" she calls over her shoulder before disappearing behind the door. I let out a breath and turn to face Derek.

"You didn't notice her coming in?" I demand. He shrugs.

"Wasn't paying attention."

"You're the worst wolf ever," I accuse. "You… you failwolf."

"Failwolf?"

"Because you fail at being a wolf, I mean, it's pretty self explanatory." I glance up at him and grin. He huffs - there's a pun in there somewhere - and shakes his head.

"You're not being cute," he says dryly. I look up at him flatly and channel my inner Dean Winchester.

"Oh, please, you think I'm adorable."

He doesn't argue. Just takes the bowl of batter from my hands and pours it over the cookies. But I think the important thing here is that he didn't argue. Thus cementing the fact that I am, in fact, adorable.

And that, my friends, was "Magic Bullet" featuring Ares Delgado. Thanks to those new faves/followers/reviews, you're all the best!

Translations:
1. Lo siento - I'm sorry
2. Suero - juice, "serum", to combat dehydration. Like Suero Oraland Pedialyte, etc. A+ for hangovers
3. Qué quieres? - What do you want?
4. Donde estás? - Where are you?
5. Si te cuelgas el teléfono voy a matarte! - If you hang up this phone I'm going to kill you!
6. mia - mine, so "my aunt"