DISCLAIMER: Teen Wolf, and everything it contains, belongs to somebody else, so don't sue me pl0x.

A/N: So I'm actually pleased with the way this went down. I'd intended for this to be about twice as long as it is, but I was pleased with the stopping point. And now the ideas are flowing quite freely. R&R, even if you're anon. Always love input.

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[Chapter II]

Derek shifted quietly in the darkness. After the events of the day, he decided the best course of action was to simply go home and think. He'd been doing a lot of that lately. Thinking of the Argents and how they killed his sister. The alpha, and how to find him. Scott, the ever whiny and timid waste of a werewolf. And now his newest problem: Jackson.

Jackson...

Just thinking of the boy's name was enough to unnerve the man. He'd interacted with the kid for all of thirty seconds, and now he felt plagued by him. Throughout his entire battle with the magic bullet, he'd been unable to keep the teenager off of his mind. He was dying. Why the hell was he thinking about what he'd done to the boy? What he hadn't done to the boy, actually, but what it felt like he'd done. It was so vivid - so real. He'd have sworn that it happened if not for certain minor details that didn't line up. What made matters worse is that while he felt as though he should be repulsed by the mere thought of touching the boy, he couldn't seem to rid himself of the desire to do it again.

Not again. I never did it to begin with.

Derek arose quickly, pacing quietly. He reminded himself that nothing happened, and it was probably just some sort of odd side effect from the wolf's bane that was coursing through his system. He could accept that and move on, but the thoughts lingered when no other traces of his brush with death did. So what did that mean?

A visit to the local library yielded nothing helpful, neither in hard print nor through the magic of the internet. There was absolutely no documentation of what he could only surmise as a 'vision.' But even that was a stretch. It didn't feel like a portent of something to come - it was happening. He could taste Jackson where he'd scraped his teeth along his neck. When I didn't. The scent of his arousal was fresh in his mind. But he wasn't aroused, he was terrified. He could still hear the moan that rolled off of Jackson's lips. It was a whimper at best.

He could feel the anger rising in his chest as he balled his fists tightly, his claws digging into the heel of his hand and drawing blood, which only served to remind him of the mark on Jackson's neck.

He sighed quietly, willing the wolf back into the recesses of his psyche. He was used to discipline, and this business with Jackson was nothing more than a test. He simply had to put it out of his mind and overcome the problem. He'd done that a number of times in his life already, namely with Kate and the destruction of his entire family. Why would a teenage brat be more difficult to overcome than the loss of everyone he held dear?

"It won't," he said resolutely.

It was that simple. He would will the situation away. He still had the alpha to deal with, which was taking up a bulk of his time as it was. Not to mention trying to evade those that were hunting him. And with the added responsibility of helping Scott, he had enough on his plate to keep him occupied. Jackson was nothing, would be nothing. He'd hit roadblocks before, and overcome them with ease. This would be no different.

So he kept telling himself.

It isn't even Jackson that's bugging me now, he thought coolly. I have no idea what that was, or if it's going to happen again. Is it some sort of connection, and did he feel what I was thinking? None of this makes any sense.

"A run," he said simply. Whenever he needed to clear his head, going out for run in the middle of the night always helped. Something about the whole moon and lycan connection, he supposed.

Without another moments pause, he bolted down the stairs and flung open the door.

"Holy Jesus!"

Although Derek tended toward being stone-like and never flinching, he nearly yelped in surprise himself as Stiles let out a scream. "Stiles, what the hell are you doing here?" he ground out, trying to calm himself before the kid knew that he'd startled him.

"What're you doing here?" the boy countered, clutching his chest dramatically.

"I live here.." Derek answered, furrowing his brow.

"I live here," Stiles mocked, sighing heavily. "Holy crap, Derek, you trying to give me a heart attack or what?"

"I'm still not above ripping your throat out," he replied, his patience disappearing rapidly. "Now what are you doing here?"

"Scott asked me to check on you. Said you were being more dou-"

Derek's eyes narrowed before Stiles could finish.

"-uuifficult than usual," he said, barely saving it. "And something about Jackson's neck. Did the alpha get him, too?" Stiles groaned. "Wait, so now we get to deal with a whiny wolf and a douchey one?"

"What the hell would I know about Jackson's neck?" he demanded.

"Ya know, I was gonna cut off your arm. For you. You think you could show me a little more respect?"

Derek flinched, as though lunging at the teenager, causing him to yelp in panic as he tripped over his own two feet, failing at an attempt to get away from the older man. "Bad dog!" he chided as he scrambled to his feet, watching Derek.

"Stiles, just...go," he said, unable to deal with any more from the awkward boy.

"But what about Jack-"

Derek's eyes flashed, and Stiles quickly got the point. "Okay, okay! Got it. Freakin' werewolves.." he muttered as he shambled toward his Jeep.

Before Stiles could say anything else, Derek leapt from the porch and ran full bore into the woods. Everything was a blur as he ran - sights, sounds, thoughts. This was what he needed. He needed the world to fall away while he simply existed. It was the only way to shut out the problem that was tormenting him. Any time that he felt his mind start to wander beyond simply keeping himself balanced and moving, he quickened his pace, forcing his thoughts back to the moment. He would beat this. He was a werewolf. Stronger than any human. He wouldn't be weak like the vast lot of them.

And Derek ran.

...

Jackson absent-mindedly drummed his pen atop his notebook, staring blankly at his laptop. After the events of the day, he just wanted to drown himself in school work, hoping that it might stave off the thoughts running rampant in his mind. The class: AP English. The assignment: A report on something of historical significance dealing with that particular student's family. Jackson's progress: Zero.

Not knowing his own family was certainly a slap in the face, as well as a big hindrance in his ability to do the assignment properly. But he wasn't even thinking much about that at the moment. His thoughts were elsewhere, which was unlike him. He was always so focused on everything he did, striving to be the best. He was captain of the lacrosse team. He was a straight-A student enrolled in AP classes. He never lost focus, because he refused to be less than perfect.

But that didn't matter. He'd tried shutting out the thoughts about what had gone on with Derek, but every time he finally felt like he'd accomplished it, they'd sneak back in. It was a never-ending cycle of torment. "Fuck!" he yelled, lobbing his pen across the room. What the hell is wrong with me?

"Jackson, honey? Are you okay?" came a muffled call from his mother.

"I'm fine," he shouted. "Just..bit my tongue." He thought for a moment, wondering why he felt the need to lie about something so minuscule. He supposed he was used to it. He was a compulsive liar; not out of spite, but simply out of necessity. If he lied about everything, no one would know the real him. The real, screwed up, always lonely with severe abandonment issues and the constant need for perfection so that others would love him him.

Jackson groaned in disgust and resignation, slamming his laptop shut. "Screw it, I'll do it later," he grumbled, rubbing distractedly at the marks on his neck. He paced around his room quietly, trying to organize his thoughts. Yes, he had began firing his mouth off at Derek, as he was prone to doing. And yes, Derek had retaliated by shoving him against his locker. But that was it, right? Everything else that happened didn't actually happen. It was some sort of twisted...whatever it was. Jackson didn't know. He didn't want to know. Did he?

No!

..damn it, yes.

It wasn't bad enough that he didn't know what the hell had happened that day, but now his mind was at war with itself. But he couldn't figure out why he didn't want to know. If he knew, he could fix it, right? Or at least prevent something like that from happening again. Not that he planned on ever running into Derek Hale again.

Unable to keep the demons in his head at bay, he decided to try his hand at a late-night run. He unbuttoned and tossed aside his shirt, his pants following quickly afterward. He settled on a pair of shorts, a tank top and a windbreaker, since there was a light nip in the air.

"When all else fails, run. That'll help," he said, determined to get past this.

Throwing on a pair of shoes, he headed downstairs, stopping in the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and take a swig before heading for the door.

"Going out for a run so late?" his father questioned.

"Couldn't think. Just need to clear my head a bit," he replied.

His father nodded, lightly clapping him on the shoulder. "Just be careful, you know your mother," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips as he rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, got it dad," he nodded, forcing a smile he didn't feel. "See ya."

Pushing the troublesome thoughts away, he left the house and headed nowhere in particular, going wherever his legs took him. The air was cool against his skin, but his muscles were warming quickly. He focused on his breathing, the feel of his feet slapping against the pavement, the tightening and loosening of his muscles. His mind was at peace, at least for now. One thing he could always count on to help get him focused was some sort of physical activity. Lacrosse, running, lifting weights, anything physical. Physical. Like sex with Derek?

Jackson groaned, having thought he'd successfully steered his mind clear of the Derek topic. "Damn it," he heaved, slowing to a stop. He huffed lightly, chewing his lip in thought. Why can't I get him out of my mind? I'm not gay. I mean, I wouldn't care if I were, but I'm not, so what the hell is going on? "Danny," he muttered to himself, the realization hitting him suddenly. "If anyone can possibly help me make heads or tails of this, it'd be him."

Confident that his best friend might be able to offer up some sort of answer, or even just some advice, Jackson began jogging toward his house, thankful that he'd been heading in that direction already without realizing it.

...

Derek slowed his pace as he made his way into the outskirts of town. He'd been running full-throttle for nearly thirty minutes, seriously draining himself in the process. But it had been worth the expenditure - he'd all but forgotten about the annoying jock that kept trying to invade his mind.

Until he caught a glimpse of him rounding the corner.

"You've gotta be kidding me," he muttered.

It wasn't long before Jackson noticed him as well, jerking to a stop. They eyed one another, neither speaking; neither moving. It was almost what Derek would have imagined a showdown in old western movies to be like. They stared, unblinking, seeing which of the other would make the first move. Though what that move might be, neither of them knew. Derek was no coward, so fleeing in the face of adversity was never an option. Tucking his tail between his legs and running away was out. But should he approach him? What good would that do? And why he would want to do so in the first place was beyond him. His only option was the middle ground - remaining still and hoping he might disappear. He rolled his eyes at the thought, but wouldn't mind if it actually happened.

Jackson had apparently been warring over his options as well, standing just as still as Derek did. Under most circumstances, he might find the situation funny. Truthfully, he did find it a bit funny. But he could smell the fear and uncertainty rolling off of the younger man in waves. As awkward as the situation was, he felt a pang of guilt. Perhaps he owed the kid an apology. After all, he never would have reacted as he had if not for the wolf's bane messing with his basic motor and neural functions. Mentally kicking himself, he decided he'd try and be civil, even though it was against his very nature. "Look, kid," he began as he slowly began moved toward him, suppressing a smirk as Jackson took a step back, a spike of fear wafting through the night air. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I just wanted to apologize."

Jackson was torn on how to react. He could easily just turn and run, or he could be the cocky, arrogant teenager he was used to being. Somehow, the latter option seemed like less of an option and more of a death wish. The whole situation came about because of his attitude, and he thought that a similar display might yield even worse results than it had previously.

"Alright," he said simply, unsure what else to say without risking losing a limb to the older man.

Derek slowed to a stop a few feet in front of Jackson, staring at him. He sensed a faint trace of arousal, but it disappeared quickly. "I was on edge, and dealing with you just wasn't something I could handle. I reacted...poorly."

"Did you.."

Derek stared quietly. "Did I...?"

"What did you do to me?" Jackson ventured. "I mean, when you shoved me.." he trailed off, embarrassment, arousal, and guilt emanating in waves.

Derek's heart stopped momentarily. But it didn't happen. How would he know about it if it didn't happen?

"I mean, you.." He groaned, flustered. "Screw it. Were you trying to fuck me or something?" So much for subtlety...

Derek decided quickly that feigning ignorance was his best course of action. He didn't need Jackson to know that he'd felt the same thing, even though he was sure it didn't actually happen. "Keep dreaming, kid. If I'd have wanted to fuck you, there wouldn't be a 'try.'"

Jackson's anger was bubbling to the surface quickly, his fists clenched. "Don't think that just because you got in a lucky shot I can't hold my own," he said defiantly, stepping forward. He had no idea where the sudden bravery had come from. He knew Derek could easily kill him; or rape him, or whatever if he'd half a mind to. But Jackson wasn't a puny child, and he wanted to make sure Derek knew it.

Which he immediately regretted.

Derek's hand was wrapped around his throat before Jackson knew what hit him. "That so?" he - growled? Jackson swore he heard an almost feral growl come out of him. The hand around his neck was tight, but Jackson was still able to breathe. He knew that the man was making a point. "You should learn when to keep your damn mouth shut, kid. You're gonna get yourself into trouble one day. And not everyone's as nice as I am," he smirked.

"I'm sorry," Jackson pleaded, prying at Derek's fingers.

"Say it again," he said, holding the smaller man mere inches from his face.

"I'm sorry.." Jackson said quietly. The scratches on his neck were warm, almost tingling. But not in a bad way. It was almost euphoric. Despite the fact that Derek could kill him where he stood, he couldn't find it in himself to be scared. The grip that Derek had on him felt.. Right? It was dominant, possessive, and it felt right. He didn't know where this was coming from, but he didn't seem to mind. He stopped fighting Derek's grip, his fingers resting on the man's forearm.

Derek could feel a rapid shift in Jackson's emotions. The fear had given away completely to pure lust, and it had happened almost instantly. The sudden snap of arousal was flooding his senses. "Who knew you were a closet masochist," he murmured, his lips hovering dangerously close to Jackson's, tightening his grip slightly. Jackson moaned softly, his eyelids fluttering. He could feel Derek's breath ghosting across his lips, and it was driving him mad. "Please," he whimpered.

"Please what?" Derek teased, his grip tightening further.

Jackson tried to close the distance between them, wanting nothing more than to feel Derek's lips on his. But the bigger man's grip held fast. "Derek," he moaned, his hands moving to the man's chest. "Please," he whispered.

A faint trace of a smile danced across Derek's lips as he finally gave in to Jackson's pleas, capturing the younger man's full lips with his own. He growled quietly as his tongue slipped into Jackson's mouth, reveling in the noises Jackson was making as he explored its velvety warmth. He released his grip on the boy's throat, crushing his body against his own.

Jackson's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. This was wrong. It was incredible. He should be scared. He was intoxicated. This man could kill him. This man could claim him. "Derek," he moaned, achingly hard and yearning for the other man to touch him.

Derek smiled as he began trailing kisses down his throat, his hand drifting downward as he did so. He teased at the soft flesh of his shoulder, his mouth aching with the desire to sink his fangs into that tender flesh. He gripped Jackson's erection through his shorts, eliciting a throaty groan from the smaller man. "More," he pleaded softly.

"You don't want more," he cautioned, fighting the wolf as it clawed its way to the surface.

"Don't you want to..?" Jackson asked huskily, tilting his head lightly, allowing better access to the werewolf. "I know I do," he breathed, bucking into Derek's touch. "One little bite. What could it hurt?"

He hesitated a moment as Jackson's words sank in. He was right. One little bite couldn't hurt, could it? He just had to make sure he kept himself in control. That wasn't so hard. He'd been doing it all his life. Just one little bite, a brief moment of pain for the younger man that would yield itself to bliss quickly. His fangs descended as he placed a chaste kiss to the sweet warmth of Jackson's neck, before plunging his fangs into him.

And the ice shattered.

Both could feel the world fall out from beneath them, and time stopped. Derek blinked. He was still gripping Jackson by the throat. Jackson had apologized. It was happening again. It wasn't happening again. The same surreal feeling blanketed the both of them as Derek's hand fell away, and he simply stared.

Jackson took a step back, his eyes never leaving Derek. "You.." he managed. He tried forming words, but nothing would come out. Whatever had happened to them earlier was happening again. But it wasn't actually happening, and Jackson couldn't figure out what that meant. Or why Derek bit him. How he knew Derek could. Why Derek could. "S-stay away from m-me," he stuttered as he turned, running as fast as he could.

Derek watched him in silence, the tang of blood fresh on his tongue.