A.N.: Another review! Guess I'm getting my Teen Wolf mojo back!

So, I'm just thinking what I can do that's different from canon - I haven't watched past early season five, and I was never much interested in Kira… I guess I wanted more development with the characters we already had, like Jackson and Isaac (who is still one of my favourites), and even Derek. So I'm trying to think…what 'creatures' could I bring into this story, that would belong in this world? No vampires! I'm really into Grimm, and Lost Girl, so I may take inspiration from them, but I'd love your thoughts.

Jekyll and Hyde

07

What They Bring to the Table

He cleared his throat nervously, averting his eyes from her. "How was your shift?"

"Lucrative," Mary smiled, and her smile was gentle, natural. The lethal edge had softened – it wasn't gone, but something had changed in her, gentled. A new sense of calm, albeit tired, emanated from her.

"I saw," Derek nodded. "People really spend that much money on cosmetics?"

"Not everyone has your flawless glowing-moonlight complexion, sugar," Mary teased, and Derek fought the urge to roll his eyes, secretly pleased that she felt comfortable enough around him to tease him. Life without Laura was humourless. He was humourless… He missed his sister.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Eternally," Mary purred, her smile natural, more gentle than he had ever seen it. It wasn't a double-entendre, an allusion to her voracious sexual-appetite; she was being sincere.

He indicated the passenger-side door. "Get in."

"I like a man who takes charge," Mary smirked, giving a mock salute before tugging the door open, and slid into the passenger seat. The Mustang rumbled into life, and they peeled out of the lot.

"Don't change it," he said quietly, lips barely moving and eyes on the road as he drove through town, catching the movement of her hand reaching for the stereo in his peripheral vision.

"It's Public Service Broadcasting, are you kidding me?! I'm turning it up! Have you heard 'The Other Side'? I actually held my breath while I listened," Mary said, turning the volume up so they could hear the music a little clearer, picking up his phone from the centre console so she could flick through his playlist connected through BlueTooth to the system. He had been listening to it while he waited, new songs he had downloaded recently. There was no checking his phone for messages; he hadn't heard from his old pack-mates since leaving New York, and he didn't expect to. Not since he'd told them about Laura. He took a lot of getting used to, and he knew it was Laura they had joined the Pack for. They endured his presence, had always been wary of it. "You're a little bit of a control-freak, aren't you? I'll bet you hate other people driving… My dad makes the worst passenger. He's been driving for twenty-odd years – he loathes being the one not in control." Her tone was…fond. She liked her father.

"Driving...gives me the illusion of control," Derek admitted grudgingly.

"It is a nice car," Mary said gently, her painted fingertips trailing over the dash.

"Your parents give you the GTO?" He had to admit, he loved his car; hers was gorgeous.

"No. My ex, actually. He salvaged the shell of it from the wrecking-yard, at least. On our Alpha's orders. I built it up," Mary said. "Or, we did it together. Sort of a therapy deal." She sighed softly, then frowned.

"How do you mean?" Derek asked quietly, and he sensed Mary's eyes on him briefly.

"My…Alpha had this philosophy. Sometimes fate kicks up a rock in your path, and sometimes…it's a landslide. When that happens, you can either smash right through the mess, or you can adjust and move around, find a new path, but the obstacle's still there behind you. The GTO was me taking a jackhammer to the rubble and hauling it out of the way, fighting through it." Derek nodded, indicating at the crossing.

"Where are we going?"

"Best burger place around," Derek murmured. He hadn't been to Beacon Burger in years, famous for its weird and wonderful burger menu, the build-your-own dart-board, the triple-cooked chunky fries and secret pulled-pork recipe – since before the fire. He was curious whether the standards had been maintained, if the food was as good as he remembered.

And Mary would be one date not horrified by his appetite. He swallowed. This wasn't a date.

But he was never going to deny he didn't enjoy looking at Mary Argent. He sat watching Mary fiddle with her straw as she looked over the menu. It had been a while since he shared a meal with someone…he and Laura had made the effort to eat together every day, the same way they had shared a meal with their family every night growing up.

He could still feel the warmth of the ancient stove in the huge hearth in the wide, airy kitchen, the scent of cooking meat, the sun glinting off Laura's nail-polish bottles as she gave herself a manicure, chatting on the phone with her friends, annoyed by Cora as she twanged the phone-cord, Cora sitting in his lap as she struggled with Algebra, wanting nothing more than to steal his favourite cap, wearing it backwards over sloppy braids, her elbows scabbed over, her braces conspicuous, happy and carefree, enthusiastic, prone to sarcasm and rolling her eyes, tugging him out of bed to throw a baseball in the backyard. Cora… After Paige, she was the one who tirelessly fought to keep him going, even without knowing what he was going through.

Of his two sisters, he had always been closer with Cora, the younger; Laura had been too busy with her friends, and learning from Mom, to spend much time with her boisterous, sometimes obnoxious little brother. Derek had carried Cora back from the creek more times than he could count, her legs bruised and bloody, her feet scratched from running around in the woods without shoes, climbing trees – they had built the treehouse together – he had built the treehouse, for her. If she was ever upset, he could find her there; and only he could coax her down once she had pulled the rope-ladder up. He remembered the heart-stopping moment she had concussed herself, flinging herself from the tyre-swing into the creek, too shallow in the heart of summer. He remembered listening to Mom playing the piano for hours on end, the sound of music making his heart ache with sorrow; her goodhearted irritation whenever Peter sauntered into the house to steal something sweet and homemade from the pantry, her irreverent, entitled little-brother, the antithesis of Talia.

Coming back to Beacon Hills was Derek's idea of a personal hell. It was a place he had never wanted to see again, had begged Laura to stay away from. It was drenched in memories, haunted by the ghosts of the people he had loved, and had gotten killed.

For hundreds of years, the Hale werewolves had maintained the territory around Beacon Hills as theirs. They had built up the town, and protected it. His mother had. No-one he ever met could ever say anything but that Talia Hale was the kind of Alpha they all either wished they had, or strove to be like. Laura had tried; but as much as she was like Mom, she wasn't Talia. Mom had drawn her strength from her family; and because of Derek, he was the only family Laura had. He didn't know how much strength he had ever offered her.

And now he had lost Laura. Failed to protect her, just as he'd failed everyone else. He had lost the very last physical manifestation of his mother, of their family. Because Laura had been very like their mom; when the others were alive, they used to tease Laura about it. In looks, in personality, in their likes and hobbies. Sometimes when Laura opened her mouth, Talia came out. Derek wasn't like his mother, could never be. After Paige, he had changed; like the father he couldn't remember. Grief-stricken, drowning in guilt and self-loathing. He had taken innocent life; but for a pure reason. To end her suffering.

It was the hardest thing he had ever done, and Paige had left him a fractured reflection of himself.

He could count on one hand the women he had let close, had been important to him, had loved unconditionally, without fear. Talia, Laura, Cora, Paige… And the last, the woman who had betrayed him, defined the man he now was…Kate.

He hated her more than he had ever hated anyone in his life; and he was still hurt by her betrayal. Rage and loathing and despair warred inside him on a daily basis, and he had to tug hard on the reins of his brittle self-restraint not to tear throats out – not when there were Hunters swarming to Beacon Hills, a psychotic Alpha with a vendetta, and an innocent kid struggling with what they were, in love with a girl whose family had preyed on their kind for centuries.

"What's on your mind?" Derek asked, his eyes on Mary's short, neatly-filed fingernails flashing in the light, greyish-lavender, with glitter on her ring-finger nails, reminding him so much of Laura and her vanity stocked with an array of colourful bottles. The acrid scent of nail-polish was so familiar to him now, he didn't sneeze when he scented it, although he'd always pretended to be annoyed by it; he'd find bottles of the stuff everywhere, even in his bedroom, from when Laura would come and sit with polish, remover and cotton-balls to chat with him – about anything and everything.

Scott McCall would never believe Derek could talk for hours; with Laura, he had.

She was gone.

The very last person who remembered who he had once been, was gone. The last person he had to let close to him, to see him. Who was he, without his family? The only people he knew with certainty that he loved and trusted. Laura was gone. Who was he without her?

"Not half as much as is on yours," Mary said, her eyes narrowed shrewdly. That night in the woods, they had been both jacked up on adrenaline; he sat there, pinned in place by those hazel eyes, eyes that seemed to see right through him. His instincts told him that Mary…was a kindred spirit.

"Something's different about you."

"You've been thinking about me? Have I been giving you sleepless nights, Derek?" Mary teased gently, her eyelashes fluttering as she lifted her gaze unwaveringly to his. The teasing smile softened and disappeared, leaving him with only the raw loneliness her eyes couldn't hide. Her voice was gentle when she spoke; "I…made some decisions recently."

"Really?" Derek frowned, wondering where she was going with this.

"Yeah. So…Scott and his friend finally approached me," Mary said, something flickering across her face as she straightened her cutlery. Amusement, mingled with sadness.

"You met Siles." Derek didn't bother trying not to roll his eyes. There was something infuriating and hilarious about that kid, and he could tell how insane the things pouring from Stiles' mouth would be by scenting his hormones. Adderall had a distinctive tang.

"I met Stiles. Allison promised he would be memorable," Mary snickered, as the waitress piled their table high with food, making his mouth water. Neither of them had held back ordering exactly what they wanted. "He did not disappoint. Hey, um, did we order any onion-rings? Can we get an order of them, too, please? Thank you?" She smiled at the waitress, who placed the last dishes of coleslaw, nachos and jalapeno-poppers on the table; the waitress nodded and headed for the kitchen.

"She probably thinks we're secretly filming an episode of Werewolf Vs Food," Mary chuckled under her breath. She eyed him inscrutably. "At least you're a guy; it's easier for you."

"I tell my exes I have an immobile pituitary gland," Derek said, handing Mary some napkins as she passed him the salt, sprinkling some over the fries. "With the amount I eat, I should be reality-show huge."

"Exes?" She smirked.

"You think it's so surprising I'd have ex-girlfriends?" Derek scowled, glancing up at Mary, almost annoyed.

"Not with that bone-structure and those doorframe-wrecking shoulders," Mary teased, licking relish distractedly off her finger as she reached for a napkin. Her eyes darkened a little as they flicked to his. "I wouldn't be surprised there's a string of amazing girls you've dated but had to leave. We both know sex is the easy part. Intimacy…that's the killer. Every time. Don't worry. Many a monster-box resides in my closet full of skeletons."

"Monster-box?" Derek frowned, confused. They shared dishes, without asking, just…sharing. Offering a sip of soda, the small lazy-Susan of strange, homemade relishes, without invitation sharing the way they enjoyed particular things, a drizzle of honey on his spicy lamb burger, salt and vinegar on her fries, just…sharing a meal. He couldn't remember enjoying his food so much in weeks.

Mary's lips twitched, stealing a tater-tot. "Sort of a coffin for relationships. All the great crap from different guys…rather than toss it, or burn it, I keep hold of things. Maybe I'm just sentimental, but I just like to go back sometimes, and remember what it felt like. Being me, when I was with them. Plus, I have cool stuff, so…"

Derek mulled that over. The only thing he ever kept were memories. He didn't keep hold of anything that could lead anyone back to the people he tucked down deep in the pit of his soul, missed, but never returned to.

"So what did Scott and Stiles want?" he prompted, uncomfortable with the subject, and her accuracy.

"They don't trust you," Mary said lightly, and Derek pulled a face as they rearranged trays and plates, exchanged condiments, without needing to ask. It felt…natural. To sit and talk and eat with Mary.

"Then they're not as big a pair of idiots as I thought," Derek muttered, handing Mary the mayonnaise. She glanced up from her burger – the scent of beets, fried-egg, mushrooms and onion-rings wafted up from the toasted brioche bun she had lifted – her hazel eyes seeing more than he liked.

"You don't have to pretend it doesn't bother you," she said gently, then licked spicy mayo off her finger, her expression falling. "They were terrified of me, too… They want me to train Scott to control the shift, even on a full moon."

"They asked you?" Derek's eyebrows shot up, in surprise – and…a little bit of annoyance. Something close to…hurt flickered through his chest, maybe a little disappointment – he'd been numb to everything but shock since Laura's murder, but that feeling was still familiar.

No-one liked not being liked.

"Guess I'm the less-terrifying of two badass – what did Stiles call us – 'college varsity-level werewolf' evils," Mary scoffed, with a sad, sardonic little smile. It bothered her that Scott and Stiles were afraid of her; but a powerful reputation could be the difference between life and death in their world. "I think he was a little confused. Scott."

"About what?"

"About his anchor," Mary said thoughtfully, swirling a still-sizzling tater-tot in a mixture of ketchup and mayo. He squirted mustard into the onion-ring tray, dunking one. "It's different for everyone… Anger keeps you human. Your anger hit me like a wrecking-ball. Scott doesn't strike me as a particularly wrathful teenager, though."

"Like a freaking puppy," Derek said irritably, and he saw Mary's little smile.

"Well, he's new. He's bound to be prone to some resource guarding and ball-aggression. For someone who works at a vet's clinic, he doesn't seem to realise how animalistic some of his behaviour is," Mary said, chuckling softly, her expression almost fond. "He had a lot of questions, but didn't seem to have the time to listen to the answers."

"Does that surprise you?"

"Not at all, really. But they were asking me about controlling the shift - my eyes - I had to explain what an anchor is, and I just…came to some decisions… They were afraid of me."

"They're afraid of their own shadows."

"It's not their shadows they're wary of." He conceded that with a nod. It struck him then, that whatever had happened in the time since he last saw Mary, that night in the woods, it was significant enough that she now hurt. Hurt by their fear of her. The defensive Mary he'd met in the woods hadn't struck him as a woman who gave a damn about anything. Or anyone. But people would say the same of him – and it was a lie. That woman, he realised, was a self-preserving façade. They saw the Mary she wanted them to see. To divert suspicion from the fact that she was a werewolf, he guessed she'd gotten pretty good at pretending to be someone she wasn't.

"What decisions did you come to?" he prompted. Mary didn't answer immediately, cheek pouched full of burger, and she took her time, enjoying her food, dunking fries into mayonnaise swirled with sweet chilli sauce, taking a slurp of soda, before she spoke.

"How did it feel…when your eyes were golden?" Derek started, staring. He hadn't expected her to ask that. And he frowned, bemused.

"You don't know?"

"My eyes have always been blue," Mary said quietly, barely moving her lips. She glanced up, quickly adding, "It didn't have anything to do with my training as a Hunter." He didn't pry; but Mary told him, possibly he was the first person she had told. She had a harrowed, skittish look in her eyes that nagged at him, concerned him. "…I was driving us home from a party across the Bay. We were all happy, and hyper, you know… We hadn't had rain in weeks. And then…the music was just a little too loud; my boyfriend was teasing me; my best-friend was taking selfies with her boyfriend in the back; she probably had her hand in his boxers! We were driving through the hills and suddenly it was like the wrath of the gods – the rain came so thick and fast… There was so much water on the roads, and maybe I didn't touch the brake soon enough at the bend…we, um…I aquaplaned the car… Even though I knew the road, knew the bend, we didn't make it round; the car smashed right through the barrier and…rolled down the ravine." Derek closed his eyes, absorbing her tangible grief, her marrow-deep sorrow. Anger had overwhelmed it in the woods, her natural defences blocking out everything else. But he could taste it, recognised it; he carried it, too.

"I…remember everything. Every second of it. My best-friend didn't have her seatbelt on; she was flung through the rear window. I could hear her, dying, when the car stopped rolling. Her boyfriend's neck snapped; he died instantly… And…Tommy's skull shattered on a boulder as the car rolled…" Mary swallowed, her cheeks wan turning ashen, her eyes haunted.

"I did that... I can still hear my friend dying, the sound of Tommy's skull breaking, listening to the rain hammering down. I can still taste – the blood, the blood on the air. Can still feel the pressure to the back of my head, my sinuses, pinned upside-down in the crushed car, just…waiting."

Mary raised her eyes to his, and her face was so solemn, so grief-stricken, he felt it in his marrow. Connection. "I knew what I'd done. All that was my fault. I'd killed them. I'd killed my friends… No-one came for us for hours… It turned into the worst storm in a decade. Twenty other people died that night… It was a full-moon. Some of the Pack had gone out into the woods to run… They smelled the blood; I was the only one still…clinging to life. The Alpha bit me; he had no idea I was an Argent – how could he?" Mary raised her eyes to his. "I knew what I'd done. My eyes have always been blue."

It was the most intimate thing she could have shared. The most defining moment in her life thus far. And sharing it with him…

He never spoke about it, not even with Laura. He remembered his mother, though, after. Her calm, wise warmth, her sorrowful acceptance, her gentleness. Peter had known, been there, been responsible, had taken her limp body from his arms. But he had never said it out loud.

"Paige… Her name was Paige," Derek murmured, his eyes locked on Mary's. "We were sophomores; she…rejected the Bite." Mary flinched.

"She was suffering." It wasn't a question, didn't demand explanation.

"I knew my eyes were changing, could feel it… It was the same. The same as you. Before that, my eyes… I was just normal."

"My grief kept me human," Mary said quietly. "They were my anchor…but ever since the Pack pushed me out…it's just getting heavier and heavier… And I know if I don't do something, it'll bury me. This isn't me."

She rested her head briefly in her hands, the indicator of true despair. But she picked herself up. "Scott McCall, Stiles, even Allison is afraid to approach me… I'm turning into my mother. And I refuse - I refuse to become her. That's not who I am. I refuse to let those bastards turn me into her." She crumpled a napkin into the empty onion-ring tray, glaring. "One day they're going to regret pushing me out. Because I know what I bring to the table…I just am getting tired of sitting there alone. It's killing me."

"Is that why I'm here?"

"I figured you felt the same way about eating alone."

"I don't mind it." He hated it.

"Because if you don't let people close, you can't get hurt." Derek frowned. "It doesn't work," Mary sighed, miserable. "People sneak up on you, whether you're prepared or not."

"So…what?"

"What happens after you kill the Alpha?"

"After I kill them? I appreciate your confidence in me," Derek said honestly.

"Well, you can't do it alone. It's not just Scott who needs training - when's the last time you sparred against another werewolf?"

"Too long," Derek admitted, with a heavy sigh. It wasn't like he could head to the local gym; he'd crush a titled heavyweight.

"Well, we can train together," Mary suggested gently. "Figure out the best ways to teach Scott, from our combined experience. And after? Are you gonna stick around Beacon Hills?"

"There's nowhere else I want to go… I'm tired of running," Derek said honestly. They were taught as children that when the Hunters came, they hid, and healed. He and Laura had been hiding for ten years. If he hadn't healed yet, he never would.

"Why do you spend so much time at the house?" Mary asked curiously, throwing him.

"To remember," he muttered.

"Them? Or why you'll never let people in again?"

"Both."

"Why not rebuild the place?" Mary asked curiously. The idea had never occurred to him. If Laura had thought of it, she hadn't shared the idea - too wary of his reaction, most likely.

"Why would I do that?"

Mary shrugged. "It sends a message. The Hales are rebuilding."

"There's only one Hale left."

"It's still a name that commands respect," Mary said softly. "There's history there, I don't know…your family assumed roles of responsibility; people looked to them. My Alpha used to say he wished Talia Hale was around to talk to - she was your mom, right?"

"She was…"

"Was the garden hers?" Mary asked curiously. "It's been neglected, but I could see someone put a lot of effort into it before that."

"Mom was always out in the garden," Derek said. Mom had always loved her flower-garden. "She loved to nurture." Mary's smile was small, sad.

"I'd love a flower-garden," she admitted. "My first job was at a plant nursery, when we lived in England. SpringWatch and Gardener's World - I loved those TV shows. England has the best TV… I used to know the Latin name for tons of plants and flowers. I even went to the Chelsea Flower Show once. It was gorgeous… It's a shame, after the work your mother put into the garden, to just abandon it… Won't you lose it, isn't that what happens with derelict buildings?"

"I still own the property," Derek said quietly. But he had had notices from the county. Mary arched an inquisitive eyebrow at him. "I have to do something with the ruins or the county will come in…do it for me."

Mary nodded. "Sounds like we both need to take back the reins," she sighed. Her expression turned thoughtful. "People say your sister is a…was a lot like Talia… I met Laura, you know… I didn't realise she was your Laura. But I recognised her in the photo of your family in the newspaper."

"When did you meet her?" Derek stared.

"Last year, around Thanksgiving time," Mary said softly. Her smile startled him. "I really liked her. She said if I was ever on the East Coast looking for an Alpha to come find her." He knew Laura had been making her way down the West Coast, from Washington to San Diego; the Mexican border was their limit. South America had its own, ancient packs. They didn't overstep. She had been scenting out potential, something Laura had had a talent for.

"I read about Laura in the papers… After the Pack kicked me out, if she was still alive I would've made my way to New York State. Joined the Pack - if you would've had me," Mary said sadly, and Derek stared at Mary, his chest aching. It meant more than he cared to admit that Mary had met and liked Laura. That he wasn't the only person in the world who would remember her - miss her. Regretted the friendship they might have had, the family.

But he scowled. "Why would I trust you in my Pack? I don't even know you."

"Well, that's the point, pretty-boy. Besides, trust is earned. It's nurtured and maintained. Like a plant. And The Lorax was always my favourite. Always," Mary said lightly. "'Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, Nothing is going to get better. It's not.'" Derek rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I think it's stupid this town has two very capable, very dangerous werewolves who aren't working together to raise the baby. We both know having him running around uneducated is dangerous for all of us."

"Scott." Derek rolled his eyes again at her phrasing, but she wasn't far off; Scott was an infant wolf. Vulnerable. And he reminded Derek too much of his fifteen-year-old self, the adolescent, innocent and cocky, athletic Derek falling in love with musical, sweet Paige. Before it all went wrong.

Before she died; before he changed.

"Maybe it's the older-sister in me, or the protective Beta… I don't want to see him ruined," Mary murmured, her expression turning faraway and sad. "And it would be great to run together."

"I miss it," Derek admitted.

"Well, I'm not running anywhere at the moment," Mary said, with a satisfied smile as she patted her belly. "Burger-baby! I needed that."

"I've never taught anyone." Derek was a born werewolf, from a long and very distinguished line; and it was a long time since he'd had to learn. Training a born wolf was different to initiating a bitten Beta into the Pack. Scott had no sense of their history, their culture…their world. And teaching a turned human all of that…

Mary was different; she had received the bite after her family had initiated her into the dark underworld few knew about, and most struggled to wrap their heads around. She had already known werewolves were real; she understood, better than anyone, the danger of being what they were. Scott McCall could do a lot worse for a mentor. He'd had Peter; and he remembered feeling cheated that Laura had had Mom mentoring her. Peter wasn't his sister.

"We'll fudge through it," Mary said, shrugging delicately.

"Can I ask you something?"

"You may."

"The Argents have a code of honour. Everyone knows a Hunter who's bitten ends their life, before they're put down by their friends," Derek said softly, looking into Mary's eyes. "Why didn't you…"

"Why didn't I eat buckshot?" Mary asked, and she sighed, busying herself tidying their empty plates. "My family's beliefs aren't mine. I turned my back on Hunting; when I was bitten…it was my Alpha who helped me through the repercussions of the accident… I refused to give up my life because the circumstances of it altered. Maybe it would've been easier… I don't know. The Pack was the family I chose, the life I wanted… Those bastards!" She swore so suddenly, Derek jumped, and sent an apologetic grimace at the neighbouring tables. Mary's expression was dangerous, the sense of calm, of contentment, was replaced with searing anger, grief - hurt.

"What about your parents?" he asked, hoping to change the subject.

"They're scary."

"I meant…if I kill the Alpha…what happens, you just…join me? What about them?"

"I'm nineteen and soon to be self-sufficient," Mary said. "I've made a point of not asking them for help in anything, so there are no strings when I walk out. If they just think I've had enough, that's fine. Beacon Hills isn't their 'forever home'. The Argents have always been a migratory bloodline. Following their prey," Mary sniffed. "They'll go wherever the next crisis arises. And they'll take Allison with them, until she goes off to college."

"And you?"

"I'm getting out," Mary said firmly. "I - it's time. I just need to sign the lease on the apartment I found."

"You're moving out?"

"That's not quite strong enough. Um, severing ties. It won't be a surprise," Mary said quietly, her tone grim, accepting.

"You've got, what, a semester and a half left of high-school? Why now?" Derek asked, a little surprised.

"I don't think I'll survive the semester if I'm stuck in that house. It's not healthy for me there… Kids are entitled to not live in terror of the people supposed to protect them… Plus, Kate's there, and she takes up the oxygen in any room. And I like Beacon Hills. It's not San Francisco, but…I like it. Great stores - have you discovered the street-food scene?! - the public-library's insane, the countryside's pretty, this place has a lot going for it… I need to start doing things for me…healthy changes. I need a safe place. And I'm not safe in my parents' house."

Derek frowned. She was genuinely afraid of her parents - of her mother, he sensed, more than her dad.

"Why don't you just…stay with me?"

"Thank you, but…" Mary smiled sweetly, pulling the sleeves of her Henley up to her elbows, revealing one colourfully-tattooed forearm. It was a half-sleeve, from elbow to wrist, wrapping all the way around. "I don't…don't want to make a habit of taking advantage of anyone's generosity. I have to be able to do this on my own."

"But you don't want to."

"I don't want to eat alone," Mary smiled. "I have to be able to take care of myself - with or without a Pack for support." Derek sighed, conceding that grudgingly. "I do reserve the right to invite myself over to your place as often as I like. Cooking for one is depressing."

"You can cook?" Derek smirked sceptically, raising an eyebrow.

"I'll have you know I'm a very good cook," Mary stuck her tongue out at him. "Actually, people always seem surprised that I'm…domestic."

"I think they're more surprised you're domesticated."

"Ha-ha. Says the guy living out in ruins in the woods."

"I have an apartment."

"You'd get yourself in far less trouble if you actually, you know, hung out there."

"I don't get myself in trouble! Scott and Stiles have a gift for it," Derek grumbled, and Mary laughed.

"Scott and Stiles… You know, I don't think I've had one friendship like that my entire life," she said sadly. Derek nodded in agreement; he did envy those two, just a little. It was lonely without a Pack.

"What about college?" Derek asked curiously, going back to their original topic, her plans for the immediate future.

"Pretty much off the cards right now. There's always night-classes. As soon as I switch up my hours to full-time, I can apply for a mortgage and buy my own place. I have the deposit. The investment's a wiser option than continuing to rent," Mary said thoughtfully. "To be honest, I wanted to study Art anyway; I can do that in my living-room… Something in a Business qualification would be wiser. I can study that while I work. Take my time."

"You've got it all figured out."

"Not entirely. I'm still not sure what my family's reactions will be," Mary said, biting her lip.

Derek raised his eyebrows. "You haven't told them?"

"I just don't want the hassle of that argument. Better I leave rather than that be the last memory," Mary said.

"That's why you don't want to share my apartment or commit to joining the Pack," Derek said quietly. "You think they'll track you down and break down the door, discover you."

"I'd rather not leave a trail leading them straight to you - or anyone else, even by accident," Mary said, and Derek was struck by how dissimilar she was from…from Kate. Kate, who had seduced him with the sole ambition of murdering his entire family.

"You could tell them we're just sleeping together." Mary laughed. "So when are you gonna leave?"

"Soon as I get the keys to the apartment," Mary sighed heavily, looking grim. "The only person I really worry about in all this is Allison."

"Why don't you tell her?"

"She has no idea," Mary said. "If I had my way, she'd never find out about any of it. One of us has to survive our family unscathed… But my life is a constant reminder that I won't get my way! And with Kate in town… I dread her involvement with Allison in any way."

"Why dread?"

"Don't get me wrong, she hides her psycho well, but even Dad knows there's something off about Kate," Mary said. "She's too vicious, too impulsive. She prefers getting her hands dirty; and working alone. She doesn't like to follow orders. She's never been allowed to call the shots. She's not like Dad. None of them are."

"Them, who?"

"My mother. My grandfather, Gerard - I've not seen him since I was six…for a reason…"

"My mother once told me the Hunters…the Argents have a matriarchal structure," Derek said.

"That's true. The philosophy is that men typically provoke violence. History pretty much has that fact locked down. Hunters place the final decisions with the women: In my family, sons are trained to be soldiers. Daughters are supposed to be leaders," Mary said quietly, looking down at the table, as if…she was a little bit ashamed. Ashamed to be a disappointment, even though she didn't believe in what her family did. It had to hurt. She cleared her throat. "You'd think leaders are chosen for their wisdom… My mother is the most vicious, bloodthirsty - I can't even… Dad carries the guns but Victoria orders him to pull the trigger."

"You're afraid of your mother," Derek said, and those hazel eyes flicked to his, vulnerability, shyness, temporarily replacing the defensive humour and ironic smiles. "But you respect your father."

"He's…a man of integrity," Mary said carefully.

"What about your sister?"

"She's…shy, but generous, open-minded, feisty, with a hint of rebelliousness. She's clever, sweet, and loyal," Mary said thoughtfully.

"Why not tell her? You're worried what your family will do to warp her, to benefit their cause, why not be the one to educate her in our world?" Derek asked. "Make sure she can't be twisted."

"She'd tell them."

"You sure about that?" Derek frowned. Mary sighed.

"When we were little, I was always the one who took the brunt of Victoria's episodes. I…looked after Allison, protected her, if Daddy was away Hunting, and Victoria lashed out… Allison is afraid of our mother because she's vicious, her moods can change so quickly you get whiplash… I live in terror of Victoria because I know she'd give the order to execute me, without hesitation," Mary said quietly. "Allison's afraid of our parents for different reasons, but she's still their little girl, their darling. She doesn't want to disappoint them - trusts them. Daddy is still her hero." She looked miserable, fiddling with her straw, and Derek scented it on the air…regret.

"You regret that you don't see your father as your hero?" he guessed.

"I regret that because of our family's legacy, because of who my mother is and because of what I am… I'll never have the relationship with my dad that I used to, when I was little. When he'd come home from Hunting, and he'd realise Victoria had had an episode by my bruises, he'd see Allison, smiling and sweet and safe, and he'd know I took care of her," Mary murmured, her eyes downcast. "When I was little I thought I was his hero." Her lips trembled slightly, as she tried to smile, but failed.

Derek nodded slowly, and the waitress came over to ask if they wanted desserts. Mary caught his eye, beamed, and they ordered sundaes each, Mary almost getting whiplash as another waitress carried a waffle-and-fried-chicken sandwich to a nearby table. He listened as Mary asked the waitress whether they would be interested in adding a classic Knickerbocker Glory to the sundae menu; he asked for a scoop of vanilla with chocolate syrup and peanuts and a cherry on top. Ice-cream was his one indulgence. As the waitress cleared their table, he eyed Mary's tattoo.

He lifted his chin toward it. "Before or after?"

"After. In stages," Mary said, trailing her painted fingertips over the colourful skin. There were benefits and drawbacks of the Bite, of course, of being what they were. He'd never been anything else, to know personally, but he'd known many bitten werewolves. They healed quickly - and that included when getting a tattoo. But once they went through the indescribably painful experience of making it permanent, the ink never faded, the lines wouldn't blur for decades. He and Mary, and now Scott, would enjoy extended youth; Mary's tattoo would remain as sharp and colourful as the day she had gotten it.

"How many sessions?" Derek asked curiously.

"Mm. Six. I mean, it's not that big. Just detailed," Mary said, eyeing her colourful inner-forearm with a mixture of sadness and pride. Derek winced. He had gone through the process once, and it was enough. To know the pain she would endure, going back to it over and over again… "I was fussy with the placement and colours and everything."

"You like art," he said, remembering she'd mentioned she wanted to study Art at college. Plans, thrown to the four winds, ever since her Pack had rejected her; since she no longer felt safe in her family-home. The future she wanted had been railroaded; she had used her strength to lift a carriage back onto the tracks, pushing it onwards - where, he didn't know. He didn't think she really did either.

"I like art," Mary confirmed, gazing down at her arm. He distinguished a mermaid tail, flowers, a cobweb and some kind of birdlike creature, but couldn't see the details. In many different senses of the word, he guessed he'd have to get very close to Mary to find out what they were.

"Sounds like you've really been thinking over a lot since we first met," Derek said, as the waitress brought over their desserts.

"It's funny… It's like, Scott's distrust of you gave me a moment of clarity," Mary said, chuckling sadly. "Self-awareness sure is a bitch." Derek nodded: He was aware that people were wary of him, that he was controlled by anger, by loss. He knew that as much as he missed being the old Derek, the young, pre-Kate Derek, falling in love with Paige…he couldn't be. There was no going back; and he had to be okay with that.

Or the Hunters would have no trouble executing him.

And he was too angry and too stubborn to give in.

He had spent ten years running, hiding. From Hunters - from the truth. Concealing from Laura his part in their family's murder. He knew she would never have forgiven him; he would never forgive himself.

The Alpha stealing Laura's power - their power, their family's heritage - Scott being bitten, Mary, Kate showing up in town after all these years. Following her family, staying close, as if…as if she was worried.

If she killed Derek first, there was no way her 'honourable' brother Christopher Argent could ever discover her part in the fire that decimated his family.

Everything had suddenly become very complicated. He needed to do what Mary had done; sit back and evaluate. Plan - then act with finality.

If he killed the Alpha, what then?

He would then have taken the Alpha's status and power - but the Alpha had no Pack. No territory. It had always been the Hales' territory, this part of Southern California. Since before it even was 'California'.

Mary sniffed the air delicately. "Looks like I've given you a lot to think about. I can smell your brain working!"

"Guess I've got some decisions to make, too."

"Hey, Mary…"

"Yeah?"

"Tell your dad. You respect him. Tell him."

A.N.: Thirteen pages on Word - couldn't have fit this in the previous chapter! I hope you enjoyed. More to follow!