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This is set during the Reckoning while the others are being captured and Derek is in the attic. It's in his POV.

Disclaimer: I still don't own DP or Derek, even though writing these one-shots have made me want to… :p

The worst eight hours of life

DPOV

I was on edge, to put it lightly. This-me hiding out in the attic while they were walking about downstairs, vulnerable to any danger-had been a bad idea. A very bad idea. I should have never agreed to it. Even though Chloe's reasoning was flawless and undeniably accurate, it still didn't feel right. I, the most able protector, should not be cut off, hiding in the shadows while something terrible could happen to one of them in a second, without my knowledge. I was straining my eras to try to hear everything and anything, thought that quickly became troubling since I was in the attic and they were scattered about, tiptoeing around trying to be as quiet as possible. I realized suddenly that it was too quiet, almost eerily so. If I had been in wolf form, my hair would have been raised, standing straight up.

"Liz," I whisper and a corner of the blanket I'm sitting on lifts itself into the air. "go and see-" But I was cut off by the sound of an engine starting outside. I rushed to the door, yanking it off its hinges trying to open it in my haste, and then down the stairs and hallway to the front door, not knowing that even I could move that fast. As I open the front door, I'm greeted by the sight of a white van pulling out of the driveway and onto the road. I see Margaret in the driver's seat and the outline of a man-who must be Russell-beside her. So Andrew had been right; while his own purpose had been to disband the Edison Group, that of his colleagues was slightly different: to get rid of the immeasurably powerful teenage supernaturals, liabilities in their eyes, before we managed to endanger the lives of others or the carefully constructed illusion people like us lived under in a sudden surge of unexpected power.

My instincts were screaming at me to run after the van but the part of my mind that was still managing to think coherently rationalized that even if I did managed to catch up to it, how could I possibly, even with super strength, stop a moving vehicle without getting hurt in the process. If I got hurt, I would be weakened and if I was weakened there was not a doubt in my mind that Margaret, who I know deemed a whole lot nastier than I first thought, would try to kill me. And if I was dead, the chances of the others surviving diminished significantly. I swallowed the lump that rose in my throat.

They were gone. They were at the mercy of two selfish and cold-blooded supernaturals. Simon, Tori and… oh god, Chloe were in danger.

I strode back through door and slammed my fist into the wall, plaster falling away at the moment of impact. I can't believe that they had been taken away from beneath me. I also could not believe that I hadn't heard anything. That damn Margaret must have been really quiet.

I knew, I knew, that I shouldn't have left them alone and yet, if I hadn't, we still would have been sitting around waiting, anticipating for something to happen. I felt so helpless, knowing that I hadn't been there, hadn't save them. The anger and worry and panic I was feeling had been coming to a boiling point and that thought of Chloe just pushed me over the edge and I had lost control for that one second of blinding, all-consuming rage.

Yes, I was worried, panicked, about Simon; hell, I was even concerned for Tori. But I was terrified about Chloe because if anything happened to her… I don't know. I don't know what I'd do without her.

I thought about it then for a moment, losing her, because I needed to have an idea of how it would feel since it was such a distinct possibility. And that moment was hell. Pure hell. The wolf was whimpering and howling in crippling agony and I realized that trying to imagine Chloe gone was almost impossible, not only because the pain was almost numbing, but because Chloe had become so important, so vital to me, almost as if she were a part of me. I took deep breath-make that a few, attempting to regain control because standing in front of a damaged wall, scowling all the while panic was wreaking havoc to my mind, was not getting me any where. Once I thought I could trust me voice, I called, "Liz!" though I sounded a little worse for wear. I saw a pen and paper floating towards me.

"They're gone. Tori, Simon and Chloe. Can you find them?" She quickly scribbled 'brb' onto the paper and I was left to search the house, trying to piece together what had happened, attempting to collect as much information as I could before I took action.

I opened the door to the basement and the sight that greeted me froze me in place. When I had seen Gwen's lifeless body, albeit being shocked, I didn't feel much. I became even more apprehensive about Margaret, who was now, in my mind, completely homicidal, and although I felt bad that Gwen had died so young and so unnecessarily, I wasn't upset. I hadn't known her.

When I saw Andrew's inanimate body, lying in its own blood, I almost couldn't believe what I was seeing I was so shocked. Yeah, I hadn't seen Andrew in a few years and he had done all he could to keep me away from Dad, but I still didn't really consider him as one of the bad guys. He had committed an error in judgment and that was something we all do at some point. Even at his blackest hour, he didn't deserve the cards he had been dealt. I wasn't sad, not even upset really, but I was aware of the loss. I was also aware of what this really was: it was no longer an attempt to fix their "mistakes" and I'm honestly not sure if it had ever been. It was a quest for control, survival of the fittest. In any group of people, even in the animal kingdom, the leader, the ruler, was the fittest, the strongest and therefore held the most power, was in control. In our community, we're considered threats to the people who run it, like Cabals or the Edison Group. They were worried that they would no longer be the strongest and they were prepared to do everything in their power to make sure that that didn't happen and Andrew's murder was an example of that.

I was still staring at his body when I saw the pen and paper in front of me. Blinking out of state of pensiveness, I saw that Liz had written 'I found them and I know where they're going. I can navigate. How are we getting there?'

"I'm driving." I said, and with one last glance at Andrew, I turned and went back upstairs and to the car, only pausing to grab the keys.

I was alert but getting tired of staring at the same stretch of highway and restless of being in the same position for so long. I had started fidgeting four hours ago. Tension filled the car and my knuckles were white against the steering wheel, my hands never leaving the ten and two position. I heard scribbling and looked over to read Liz's message: 'We're almost there, Derek. Don't worry too much for now. They're all still fine.'

"Thanks Liz." I said with sincerity. Liz had been like a godsend on this car ride from hell. She would periodically write down reassuring messages that were meant to try to ease my tension and worry, and even though her attempts were futile and she knew it, she did it nonetheless and I was grateful for her.

After another half an hour that consisted of getting off the highway-finally-and turning down a bunch of roads, she told me to turn down a street that looked abandoned and turned into a beaten path surrounded by woods, like it's construction had suddenly halted. The modest looking building came into view and I turned off the car, practically throwing myself. I hungrily inhaled the fresh air after eight long hours in the stifling confines of the car.

Great. We were here. How to get in was the next task at hand.

It's not exactly like I can waltz in there and ask to see them. I was wanted, a known target to the guards that were no doubt stationed inside, and stealth and inconspicuousness were of vital importance. I just didn't know how to go about it. All my frustration, worry, anxiety, irritation at my inability to think clearly and lack of movement for the past eight hours all suddenly collided and reacted like francium and fluoride, making me realize why Simon says I have terrible timing and entailing the worst possible reaction: I started to Change.

"Wait here." I said to Liz hoarsely. "I'll be right back."

Clearly confused by my request, I saw the pen and paper following me into the woods. They quickly retreated once I started stripping and the convulsions began. Through the gasps, pants, convulsions and realignment of muscle and bone, I couldn't figure out what was more painful: the Change or Chloe's absence.

Change completed, the wolf and his determination to just get the hell inside took over and I strode purposefully toward the building. Liz, seeing me and quickly catching on, wrote 'I'll open doors.' I attempted a nod and continued on my way. When we reached the building the garage and the door leading inside were open and the only obstacle was a weak looking staff member who froze and stopped breathing when he saw me. I couldn't resist: I growled fiercely and started snapping my jaw. He booked it; ran out and never looked back. In a less serious situation, I probably would have barked a laugh.

I ran to the door and continued running up and down all the hallways, only pausing when Liz was needed, trying to sniff one of them out. Then her smell hit me and I increased my pace, following the scent. When I turned a corner and saw that Diane Enright was the only thing blocking me from Chloe, I didn't hesitate and jumped on her back, throwing her into the wall and knocking her unconscious. I didn't think I'd ever feel too bad over that because for those who thought Tori was a bitch, well they had yet to meet her mother, who completely redefined the word.

Flanks heaving, I looked up to see Chloe launching herself at me, despite her aunt's-who was evidently alive, thank god-protests and dropping to her knees, burying her face in my neck. It felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off my chest, like I could finally breath again. She was alive and safe for the moment and I couldn't-wouldn't-even begin to explain what or how much that meant.

"You're okay. I was so worried." she said.

I was so relieved that I couldn't even muster a snort that would have meant 'you were so worried?'

Despite how much I just wanted to stay right where I was, with Chloe tucked safely around me, I knew that we had to find the others. After a couple more seconds of bliss, and glares/looks of shock from Lauren, we forged on.

P.S. Thank you to Alasyn (Amethyst-Blood-Crimson-Tears) for the suggestions that I'm now working to on :)

If anyone else has any suggestions or ideas, let me know. Please R&R! :)