DISCLAIMER: Teen Wolf isn't mine. Jackson isn't mine. Derek isn't mine (And that makes me sad..) I claim ownership over NONE of the things.

A/N: Okay, so this chapter...isn't necessarily my finest work, and I can admit that quite readily. I'm a purist, so I try and stick with storylines and stay true to what's canon as best I can. I chose to start events a few episodes into the show, as that seemed the most natural starting point for the whole Jerek thing. But the interaction was so limited in the episode I started with that I wound up with a chapter that was far shorter than I'd intended. But with Derek practically dying the entire episode, it was hard to do much else with him. And I am aware that the ending sucks, but I sat here for the better part of an hour trying to figure out a decent way to end it.

A big issue I had in writing this revolves around Hunter. I've always loathed OCs, simply because most of the time, you're reading something from a specific 'verse because you KNOW those characters. Why should someone throw in a character you've never heard of? That was my first mistake. But it was done simply because I have a few problems with Teen Wolf. While I LOVE the show, some of the characters are just...less than stellar. Stiles is amazing, nothing but love for him. Allison and Lydia are pretty decent, as well. Derek has AMAZING potential, but I feel like his goals fluctuated too much (Granted, he was there to get revenge, and he did, but he felt all over the map to me.) Jackson is totally 1-dimensional (Although amazingly pretty), and Scott can go DIAF. So I threw in my own character as a means to facilitate the writing process. And now he doesn't want to be written out or into the background. Stupid twerp.

But I digress! Take the story for what it is (Mostly just a means for me to get back into writing regularly), and please review. Reviews help me figure out what I'm doing right, what I'm doing wrong, and whether she was born with it, or maybe it's Maybeline. Seriously, critiques are what keep writers going. Do you like Hunter, or want him to bathe in acid? Do the characters deviate too much from their personalities in the show? Should I just let this one crash and burn prematurely? Show me some love! Or at least gratuitous nudity, yeesh.

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[Chapter I]

"How is it that I wind up making nice with every gay guy in this school?" Jackson laughed as he and Hunter wove through the tangled mass of students that congested the hallways of Beacon Hills High.

"Well there's that angelic face, first of all. We're drawn to it; moths to a flame, all that shit," he teased. Jackson shook his head, chuckling softly to himself. "But hey, count your blessings. We're the superior species, after all. Stronger, faster, and we're killer in the sack," he grinned.

Jackson laughed again, jabbing him in the ribs playfully. "Yeah yeah, next time I need to know how to make Lydia hate me, I'll seek your advice on all things anal."

"Good boy," Hunter winked, chuckling. "See ya around, man."

"See ya," Jackson called back as Hunter walked off, shaking his head.

Hunter groaned quietly to himself when he was far enough away from Jackson. "What a fucking bore," he grumbled. "Pretty, definitely, but he has all the personality of a toilet seat. Fucking kids these days.." He continued to ramble quietly to himself, unhappy with how things were progressing. Or rather, weren't progressing. The Argents had planted him in the high school, hoping that he might be able to ascertain some sort of information about the alpha. They hadn't had any leads anywhere else, so it was a start, and Hunter looked younger than he actually was so the plan would work well enough.

What the hell would any of these kids know about werewolves, though? They're all too caught up in their personal drama, popularity contests, and that stupid-ass lacrosse bullshit. Why did I have to be so damn handsome? he thought idly, smirking to himself. I suppose we all have our crosses to bear.

He was jarred from his thoughts rather suddenly as he looked up just in time to run into what appeared to be a zombie. He staggered backward from the impact, cursing silently to himself. "Sorry, off in my own little wor-"

A genuine smile graced his lips as he cut off, realizing the zombie was none other than Derek Hale.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the most talked about man in town. Or, at least in the circles I frequent. I'd say you're not lookin' so hot, but we both know that's a lie," he said with a chuckle. "Seriously, though, you look like shit. What gives?"

Derek stared at him - almost through him, really. "You.." he muttered.

"Me. Very good. You've mastered the use of pronouns. Now, if you can answer the question, I may give you a treat!"

"Out of my way," he grumbled, brushing past the younger man.

Hunter gently grabbed him by the arm, wanting to stop him but not have him feel threatened. "What's wrong, Derek?" he asked, genuinely concerned. "You look like death. Not a good look on you, just throwing that out there."

Derek spared him the best glare he could muster under the circumstances, his brow slicked with sweat and his eyes nearly dead. "Back off, or you'll die right here," he huffed, earning a grimace from Hunter. "Your little Argent friends aren't taking any great strides toward holding up your end of the deal, which makes me question the bullshit you fed me the other night."

Hunter stared at him, the confusion clearly evident on his face. "What are you talking about?"

"The Argent bitch shot me," he growled quietly, shaking himself loose of the younger man's grip. "Now stay the hell away from me."

He watched Derek trudge down the hallway, obviously in a great deal of pain. Why would they deviate from their code? I already told Chris about Derek, and we had an understanding... He headed toward the parking lot with a renewed sense of purpose, shaking the thoughts from his head. "We'll clear this up right now.."

...

Derek continued to shuffle through the throngs of students, wincing as students shoved past him. The pain was nearly unbearable, which Derek wasn't accustomed to. He'd been born into the 'curse', having enjoyed a dulled sense of pain and accelerated healing ever since he could remember. But despite his body's attempts to heal itself, it was failing miserably.

Trying to power through the pain, he continued on, hoping he'd run into Scott eventually. He'd forgotten how big the school was, and running into someone purely by chance was unlikely. Thankfully, luck was on his side and he spotted one of the players he'd see on the lacrosse field with Scott. He approached him quickly, not wanting to risk losing the moment.

"Where's Scott McCall?" he asked, his vision swimming as he steadied himself against the wall of lockers, the brief respite a welcome relief.

Jackson stared at him for a moment, torn between wondering why someone too old for high school was lurking around the halls, and why someone was asking him about that piss-ant McCall. "Why should I tell you?" he asked finally, his usual cocky demeanor coming out in full force.

Derek knew the type. The all-American jock. High on life, and full of nothing but himself and pure bullshit. He hadn't been a fan of them during his own days in school, and his feelings about them hadn't changed much in years prior. "Because I asked politely," he replied, leveling his gaze on the teenager, "and I only do that once."

"Hm," Jackson started with an amused snort, "alright, tough guy. How about I help you find him if you tell me what you're selling? Hm?" Derek stared at him, utterly lost. "What is it? Is it dyna ball?" Derek's brow furrowed. "HGH?"

It all clicked suddenly. "Steroids?"

"No, Girl Scout Cookies," he deadpanned. "What the hell do you think I'm talking about?"

I could live with myself if this one's blood were on my hands. Hell, probably gonna die, anyway. Scott's as useless as they come. No one would miss him. Maybe his beautiful eyes and lips.. Jesus, now I'm delirious. He was dragged back into reality as Jackson's condescension grew. "Oh and uh, by the way, whatever it is you're selling? I'd stop sampling the merchandise. You look wrecked."

"I'll find him myself," Derek croaked, shoving past the smaller man. He knew that he needed to distance himself from the boy or he would lose it, and the last thing he needed was to attack someone in broad daylight.

"No, we're not done here!" Jackson barked as he gripped Derek's arm, intent on intimidating the larger man.

Reacting purely by instinct, Derek spun the jock around quickly and slammed him face-first into the lockers, his claws extending and piercing the soft flesh of Jackson's neck. The scent of fresh blood filled his nostrils, as did the heady scent of Jackson's spike in fear. It was intoxicating. Dangerously so.

He leaned forward, his breath washing over Jackson's ear. "You'd be wise to learn when you're out-matched. I could break you in half right now if I wanted to," he growled. "I could do anything I wanted to you right now," he continued, grinding his hips into the smaller man. "Anything," he whispered, his lips on the shell of Jackson's ear.

"Get off of me!" Jackson yelled, terrified not only by Derek himself, but at the prospect of what he might do to him. The hallways had emptied during the course of their conversation, though, so his cries fell on deaf ears. "I'll scream," he threatened. For all the good it would do.

"I bet you would," he mumbled, his free hand ghosting down the jock's side. "I can see you as a screamer. That tight little body, writhing underneath me, screaming as I teach you what happens to those who fuck with me."

Jackson's breathing grew heavy, fear still at the forefront of his emotions. However, some of it had given way to arousal. He'd been in control throughout his entire high school career. He was the king of the school. No one could touch him. He was invincible.

And now he was just another little bitch, being put in his place by a nobody. A large, powerful, gorgeous nobody.

Derek scraped his teeth along Jackson's neck as he ground into him again. "Go ahead, kid. Scream for me," he muttered against Jackson's neck, smirking as he felt the boy shudder. "Not like this is turning you on or anything, right?" he asked as raked his retracted fingernails along Jackson's thigh, fingertips dancing dangerously close to the younger man's hardening length. "No, of course it isn't.."

Jackson let out a sound that one could only assume was a mixture of a whimper and a moan. Was Derek terrifying? Well beyond terrifying. Jackson had fully expected the man to have snapped his neck by now. What frightened Jackson more than anything, however, was that this attempt at humiliation was turning him on. He knew it shouldn't be. He was the alpha male, and no one ever saw him as a subservient little bitch. But Derek did, and Jackson couldn't do anything about it. So he told himself. He couldn't fight against that slack grip, the weak hands fumbling with his belt, the soft lips on his skin..

His breath hitched as he felt Derek's hand begin to snake it's way into his jeans.

And then there was a flash of pain as Derek withdrew his fingernails from Jackson's neck, hobbling away quickly.

Jackson remained motionless, as though he were made of stone. What the fuck? What the fuck?

He'd felt like time had completely stopped, but the feeling quickly subsided as pain flared in his neck. He brought his hand to the wound, spinning quickly and looking for Derek. He barely caught a glimpse of the man as he disappeared into the sea of students the lingered in the halls.

He looked himself over, wondering why he wasn't as disheveled as he thought he should be, given what had just happened. And weren't the hallways completely empty not a moment ago?

"What the hell.."

He didn't just imagine all of that, right? It was so real. I felt him. He was... I couldn't have been making that shit up! He glanced at his fingers, his stomach tightening at the sight of the crimson-stained digits. "What the hell did you do to me?" he whispered quietly.

...

Derek disappeared around a corner quickly, chest heaving. What the hell had just happened? He'd been about to ready to throttle that stupid little prick, had tried to leave to avoid doing so, and then he was practically fucking him in the hallway.

I really am delirious. What the fuck was that?

He hadn't ever marked a human before, so he was far from an expert on what went on during the process. But he'd never heard of sharing day dreams or fantasies with someone who had been marked - let alone the nightmare of molesting what's-his-face. And was that really even a true mark? It was purely unintentional, a lapse in judgement as his body reacted purely on its own. That couldn't constitute a mark, right? Even if it did, that the one he'd marked was male didn't enter his mind. But that he'd marked that nobody? It was enough to churn his stomach.

"I need to find Scott," he groaned, trying to push the thoughts out of his mind. He had enough to deal with, between Hunter lying to him, Kate shooting him, and his imminent demise creeping closer.

He closed his eyes as he began to focus.