Avery

I shut the door of the Camaro and look out over the nearly empty boardwalk that runs along the pier. Isaac and Scott begin walking towards us as Derek comes around the side of his car and stops beside me. Isaac smiles at me pleasantly, "So how was your night?" He asks, then looking towards Derek.

"Complicated," he says simultaneously as I say,

"Blurry," Isaac smiles at that.

"So where are they?" Derek asks, looking to Scott for an answer.

Scott shrugged, "Allison said he'd be here any time now," Derek nodded.

"Argent always likes to make a point that he's in charge." Derek turns to me, "Go get back in the car, Argent doesn't know about you yet,"

I shake my head, "Argent? Like, Allison Argent?"

"Her father," Scott answers, looking to the side he sucks in a breath through his teeth, "who also happens to be a werewolf hunter."

My eyes go wide and my mouth drops open, "Oh," I look at Scott sadly, "you two were such a cute couple, too."

Scott's eyes bug out, "We still are," he says defensively.

"Which is arguably the dumbest thing you've ever done," Derek snaps.

"It's not dumb, it's cool." I say, smiling at Scott, who looks at Derek as if he's waiting for a snarky remark.

Derek turns his head to me and leans forward as if he hadn't heard me, "What?" he asks sharply.

I look at him and shrug as my smile slowly fades, "Well, I think it's cool," I catch Isaac trying to muffle a laugh in his hand, "what about you, Isaac?" I ask, completely throwing him under the bus.

Isaac pulls his hand away and stops trying to hide his amusement, "Oh, I think it's adorable." Derek shakes his head and grabs my shoulders, turning me around as he walks me back to the Camaro.

"Stay focused." He says grumpily as he reaches around me and opens the door, attempting to usher me inside.

I turn around and stare up at him, "But why am I the only one who has to sit in the car?" Derek looks down at me with raised eyebrows.

"Are you serious right now?" I bite my lip and look over to Isaac and Scott, who are watching with smiles on their faces as they whisper to each other.

"I'm tired of being alone." I whisper. His green eyes continue to stare at me flatly.

"Avery when was the last time you were actually 'alone'?"

"Last night in that cellar." I argue.

"You weren't alone, I was there all night, and besides, you don't even remember it." I stare up at him, trying to keep my smile from sliding across my face.

I fail.

"You stayed with me….?" I ask faintly.

His green eyes don't waver from mine, and I have the urge to kiss him again. Internally, I wonder if he's feeling that urge, too.

"Isaac," he says, finally turning away and walking back towards the two.

"Yes?" Isaac says, biting on his thumb as he looks between the two of us with an impish grin.

"Would you go keep her company," he says it as if it's a bother, but Isaac seems more than happy to oblige.

"Bet," Isaac says as he walks quickly towards the car. He keeps the smile on his face as he opens the rear door and gets in the backseat.

I slide in the passenger seat begrudgingly, but settle back in the leather seat as Isaac lays out in the back. "So, for real," he begins, "how was your night?"

He practically hums the question, as if he already knows what happened. "I don't remember most of it, Derek…showed me what happened. It was weird."

"Yeah, that sounds familiar," he sighs as he closes his eyes and relaxes further into the leather.

"Wait," I begin, "Where are Erica and Boyd?"

Isaac yawns, "I let them out this morning; they're out tracking the alpha's scent around town, trying to figure out why he came through Beacon in the first place."

"I thought he was just trying to make sure Derek noticed him," I suggest.

"Yeah, but just to be sure, Derek sent them out on it." I nod to myself.

"So, why are we here? Derek really didn't explain,"

"Allison's father, Chris Argent, got to Jackson before we did last night." He said seriously.

I bite my lips as I watch Derek and Scott talk outside, the sun shining down on both of them. "They didn't kill him?" I remember Isaac mentioning Jackson was a werewolf before, though he never quite delved into it too much.

"No, Scott called Allison last night and she convinced her father not to let his father know about him,"

"Wait, so, Allison's grandfather?"

"Yeah," Isaac sighs, "however dangerous her dad is, her grandpa is worse. A lot worse." His voice is dark and wary, "Anyway, Chris got to Jackson first last night; he wasn't a fan of killing a teenager, so he kept him hidden apparently, now he just wants him out of his hair so his father doesn't kill him."

"And Allison helped convince him to just give Jackson over?"

"Yep." Isaac says as a black SUV comes rolling up to Scott and Derek. "And here he is."

Allison's dad gets out of the SUV, giving Scott a dirty look as he does. "Wait, so Mr. Argent just lets Allison date a werewolf?"

"Of course not," Isaac says, sitting up and looking out the heavily tinted window, "Scott and Allison have been keeping their relationship hidden, Mr. Argent thinks they've broken up." Mr. Argent walks to the back of his car and pops open the back door.

Inside, the back seat is basically caged in from the front seat, much like a police car. Jackson stumbles out, giving Mr. Argent an angry look as he yells, "Just wait till I tell my father about this!"

Mr. Argent just laughs as Derek steps forward and grabs Jackson by the collar of his shirt, pulling him backwards easily, I focus in and listen as he speaks, "You shifted last night you idiot," Jackson's face lights up.

"I did?" he asks with equal parts shock and excitement.

"Yes, you did." Mr. Argent said, "So if you tell your father about me 'kidnapping' you," he pulls out a flashdrive from his pocket and holds it up, "and I'll just have to show your father what you were up to last night."

Jackson looks back to Derek, "You can't let him do that," Jackson says in a panic.

Derek lets go of him and shrugs, "You're not part of my pack Jackson; this doesn't affect me at all." Jackson's face grows cold.

"Is that what this is about? Forcing me to join your little werewolf club?" he asks, his voice coated in acid. "Fine, I'll join," he finishes with a huff. Scott folds his arms.

"I don't want you in my pack," Derek says much to Jackson's astonishment, "but you need to learn some basics to control this and I'm your only option. So for now, you're mine."

"Are we done here, then?" Mr. Argent asks, sounding bored.

Derek nods and Argent climbs back into his SUV. He rolls down the window before pulling off, "Keep control over them Hale, there are far less forgiving hunters in my family." And with that, he starts the engine and pulls off in the opposite direction.

"So what happens now?" Jackson asks, sounding suddenly nervous.

"Now," Scott begins, "I take you home and you keep quiet about this."

"I'll be in touch in a day or so," Derek cuts in, "I have a few more important things to deal with than your sorry ass." Derek walks towards the Camaro, leaving Jackson in a confused state, probably because he's never, in his whole life, been 'not important'.

I smile and bite my lip as I watch Derek walking slow and confident back to the driver's side. The familiar throb comes back again, and I force it away as Derek opens the door and sits himself down behind the wheel.

"So, what're we doing today?" Isaac asks cheerfully as the Camaro roars to life. I watch as Scott pulls Jackson along down the sidewalk, forcing him away from the car and back to his house.

"Nothing," Derek replies as we pull off down the stretch of road that leads back into town, "I'm taking both of you home."

I can't complain about that plan, I feel like I haven't eaten in days and I smell like mold from sleeping in that musty old cellar.

I guess I'll have to hit the grocery store though since I have nothing to eat at…'home'.

"Aww, c'mon, what am I gonna do today?" Isaac whines.

"What do you normally do without me?" Derek asks, more rhetorically than anything.

"Wait for you to call me and tell me what we're doing for the day," Isaac grumbles jokingly.

Derek just sighs and squints his eyes at the sunlight as it steadily grows brighter. I look down at the cup holder in between our seats and see his aviator sunglasses. I pick them up and open them so that he can just slip them on.

I hold them out to him and he gives me a quick glance before taking them. His fingers brush over mine so gently and just like that, the throb is back. I let go and Derek quickly slips the sunglasses over his green eyes.

I turn away and decide to look out the window and pretend to be preoccupied with watching the people of Beacon pass by.

It's a ruse, of course; all I can think about is every detail about the man in the seat next to me.

We drive in silence for a while before Isaac sticks his head in between us, "So, what's up with you two?"

I look over to Isaac and then to Derek, who takes his eyes off the road for a brief moment. I smile and try to act nonchalant. I close my eyes, feigning exhaustion, "It was a really long night." Isaac nods, and fades back into the backseat, still looking rather unconvinced.

Just a few minutes later, and we've pulled into my driveway for what feels like the hundredth time in a few short days. As I open the door, I say my goodbyes, "So, see you guys later then," I push myself up and out of the car in one smooth motion.

Isaac pokes his head into the front seat once more, "Oh, don't forget to turn the hose off," he says.

"Wait, what hose?" I ask with absolutely no idea what he's talking about.

"The hose you set up to fill up the pool that you're going to invite me to swim in sometime soon." Isaac finishes with a smile, "Just make sure it doesn't overflow."

I just nod as he moves himself up into the front seat and closes the door with a quick, "Bye, Ave!"

I hesitate for a minute as they pull off back down my driveway before I turn and head inside.

My hair is pretty much a wild mess, but I try my best to drag my fingers through it and comb it out at least a little, but there's really no use.

As I step inside, I head straight for the pool and find it nearly full. The water level is still about a foot shy from the edge, but I guess that's enough. I turn off the hose and try not to think how massive my father's water bill will be for this month, but he did tell me to come here, so…

I walk up to my room, intent on taking a quick shower before heading out to the grocery store to get some food. As soon as I step inside the bright white room, I see my phone sitting on my bed. I walk over and unlock it, and am bombarded with messages and a voicemail.

Most of the messages are from Tori, asking me where I am, if I want to do something later, then where I am again. I ignore them for now as I listen to the voicemail.

"Hi there Avery," it's Beacon Hills girls lacrosse coach, Lori Hathaway, "your guidance counselor Mrs. Fischer has been trying to get in touch with you for the past few days to get you to come in and talk about your schedule for this year, but you haven't been answering your home phone," no surprise that my mother hasn't bothered to let me know, "she needs you to come down tomorrow to set up your classes because that's the deadline for seniors, I want to speak with you too, if you've got time." A dark hole forms in my chest as the recording comes to an end.

I toss my phone on my bed and head into the bathroom. I walk to the shower and turn the knob to the H engraved in the metallic dial. I let it run for several minutes before I begin to peel my clothes off my grimy-feeling skin. I don't bother closing the bathroom door; I live alone now, and one of the perks of such a thing is getting to be naked everywhere.

And not wear a bra.

And play loud music at night whilst doing wall ball.

I step into the shower and the hole in my chest seems to become less immense; it shallows as I wash the grime and dirt and blood off from last night and watch it all circle around and disappear down the drain.

The steam helps me clear my head as I shampoo and condition my hair. After that, I grab the soap and cover my body in suds. I reach down to run my hands over my legs and as my hand runs over my right knee, I notice a slight ache.

The heat of the water is practically making me sweat all over again. I turn the dial nearly the entire opposite direction, and brace myself for the change in temperature.

Within seconds, the water turns ice cold; I suck in a breath and run my hands through my hair. Sometimes after a particularly hard conditioning day with Hathaway, I'd take cold showers to get myself used to the cold temperature and then take an ice bath to make sure I wouldn't be as sore for the next day of conditioning, and that way I'd always be ready to go. Which is important with a coach as insane as Hathaway.

After a few more minutes, I grab the towel I used earlier, and wrap myself up in it as I squeeze out my hair. I walk back out into my bedroom and throw on a sports bra, an old t-shirt, workout leggings, socks, and my black running shoes.

I comb my hair frantically, my stomach feels like it's going to cave in on itself if I don't get some food soon. I gather my hair into a bun so it will dry with curls later.

I grab my phone, keys, and wallet and I head back outside. After climbing into my still uncomfortably big Hummer, I set off for the grocery store.

When I get there, the place is unfortunately busy.I find a place to park where there are absolutely no cars around me for me to mess up and hit with the ridiculously wide car.

I stuff my phone into my bra since I have no pockets, grab my wallet and keys and lock the door as I get out. I grab a cart as I walk through the automatic doors and take a deep breath.

I catch sight of a certain red-headed Lydia Martin shopping with her mother.

She hasn't seen me yet, that much I can tell, so I try to turn my cart in the complete opposite direction as stealthily as possible, but as I turn, my wheel lets out a dreadful screech and seemingly everyone in the entire store turns and looks at me.

Certain red-headed Lydia Martin included.

I slap myself internally as she begins walking in my direction with a fake smile on her face, "Avery," she greets sweetly.

"Hi Lydia," I say, trying my best to act glad to see her, "how have you been?"

Lydia's smile quickly turns bitter, "Let's just fast forward, shall we?"

"Sounds good," I say, dropping the act.

"Nellie Jacobs, Queen of Beacon Hills, as I'm sure you're aware, graduated last year,"

I bite my lip and narrow my eyes, "Lydia, of course I'm aware, she was on the lacrosse team and what do you mean 'Queen'?" I ask. How does Lydia come up with this garbage?

"Yes, Queen. She was the most popular girl at Beacon, and now everyone is trying to be the next Nellie Jacobs," she eyes me up and down critically, "and, everyone knows that you're… a choice; you're athletic, pretty- despite how you might look right now-, and you've already got your own little scandal and miraculous recovery under your belt."

I look around the store nervously; it feels like everyone's eyes are on me, and suddenly, I realize they are. They all must think I'm some drunk floozy that wrecked her car during one of many wild nights.

"I'm just here to tell you not to get too comfortable, your senior status does not guarantee you the crown." She finishes.

"Lydia, you can go ahead and be Queen, I just want to finish my senior year, I don't need some war with you added on top of everything." Lydia looks insanely confused.

"Oh," she says, drawing back from me, "then I'll…see you back at school, I guess…?" I nod and she turns away from me, still somewhat dumbfounded by my lack of interest in her high school politics.

As she walks away, I look around the store. People are whispering and sneaking glances at me, "Oh, that's the one that was in the car accident?" one woman asked another.

"I heard from Paul at the barber shop that her mother kicked her out, too." One man said to his wife.

"She's gonna lose that damn scholarship; colleges take that stuff very seriously." The wife said back.

Tears fill my eyes, and I struggle to keep them inside. I stroll the cart into the feminine product aisle and am relieved to find it devoid of people. I let out a heavy breath and look up to the ceiling, willing the tears away.

How do these people even know this stuff? Why did it matter to them? Is it just another thing to shake their heads at and say 'what an idiot'?

I take several deep breaths as a woman approaches. She pauses when she sees my face, "Are you alright honey?" she asks, genuinely concerned.

I want to tell her the truth, and possibly cry onto her shoulder, "Yeah," I say, forcing a smile, "yeah, I will be in a minute, thank you."

The woman nods unconvincingly, but carries on.

As soon as she walked out of the aisle, I was moving on. I pushed the cart quickly around the store once more, grabbing Apple Cinnamon Cheerios, Spaghettio's, several of those frozen dinners, some apples, of course the crucial donuts, Gatorades, iced tea, oven pizzas, salad stuff, and just a bunch of junk that I pretty much just tossed into the cart absentmindedly.

By the time I got to the self-checkout, most of the people had cleared out. Although, there are still too many for my liking.

I push my cart up to the self-checkout, and begin scanning everything one-by-one, and placing them into the bagging area.

When I finally get everything done, I hit 'select payment method'. And prepare to hit 'credit card,' when the voice tells me to pick credit or debit. I look at the card my dad left me, and I realize I have absolutely no idea which it is.

I stare down at the console for a minute, as the voices and whispers around me multiply. They seem to get louder and louder, and I can hardly think. I feel my teeth aching in my mouth and reach out and grab hold of the screen for some sort of stability. I feel the screen on the verge of breaking in my grip.

An impatient looking old woman comes to stand behind me in line and I tear my hand away from the screen and stare at the terminal, frozen with. I grab my phone from my bra and begin going through my contacts.

I scroll by Boyd, Erica, and Isaac none of which are promising and one of which would just hang up on me anyway. I see my mom's contact and I shiver.

The old woman sighs dramatically and I frantically scroll back up to the top of the list and hit 'call'.

Three long rings later, his voice is on the other end, "What?" he asks. For a moment I wonder if I'm annoying him, but I pass it off as him not having my number saved in his phone yet.

"Hi, it's me," I say, my voice is shaking and I feel like I'm going to choke as the tears prick my eyes again. The voices in the store make it hard to think, I feel overwhelmed and lost, my head spinning at the volume at them all.

"Avery?" Derek asks, smoother this time.

"I need your help."

"What is it? Where are you?" his voice is alert and tense, and I smile at that, causing a tear to fall over the edge and slide down my cheek.

Derek

"The grocery store," I sit back down on my couch as I repeat her words in confusion. Her breath is ragged, and the residual of the blood bond tells me she's upset.

"Yeah," she says, I can hear the smile on her lips, and I can sense embarrassment coming from her, "I'm in the checkout line, everything is so loud, and this old woman behind won't stop staring and I can't tell if my card is credit or debit and…"

I lean back against the back of the couch and close my tired eyes, "Take a deep breath and focus on one specific voice in the crowd. Ignore all the others but one." I hear her take a deep, shaky breath on the phone. "Is it working?" I ask.

"Yeah," she says in a small voice.

"Good. About the card now, does it say 'debit' on it?"

"No."

"Then it's a credit card, Ave. Stop crying, you're fine." She breathes in deeply.

Suddenly, she lets out a small laugh, "The woman just gave me a dirty look and went to another register." Her laugh continues, and I don't bother holding back a smirk.

Avery

I slide the card along the slit with shaking hands, "Need anything else?" he asks.

I need a lot of things.

"A hug," I say, laughing nervously as I wipe my cheeks and begin loading the bags into my cart. "Thank you," I say as I begin pushing the cart toward the exit. I'm a complete red, crying mess, but I still smile, because on the other end comes his response;

"Anytime."

God, I feel like an emotional idiot; I wonder if Derek thinks so, too.

I really wonder if I'm the most emotionally unstable werewolf there's ever been. I push the thought from my mind, reconciling that if I was, Derek probably would be far less… 'helpful' than he has been.

I smile as I recall the worry in his voice just now, and my heart feels calmer knowing he's a call away.