I haven't said it yet, so I wanted to make sure I thank all of my followers! I know there are more of you following the story than there are reviews for it, so I want to make sure all of you know how much I appreciate your support! I love you guys!

Also, a NOTE: Now that 211 has aired and Peter revealed the 'real' way to save Jackson, just keep ignoring that for the sake of this story. I had him come in (as I'd actually planned all along, and just didn't get Wolfsbane updated before the epi) and explain to Derek that Jackson needs to be saved by "love" for a specific reason that works into the overall direction the story is headed in. Just felt the need to remind everyone of the AU part of this whole thing. hee hee Okay, carry on.

Unsettled by how she'd managed to ostracize Stiles as well, Lydia sulked in a chair at one of the many tables left empty as teenagers moved onto the dance floor with their dates. Not caring that she was alone - since she'd thoroughly ruined every interaction she'd had with people so far tonight - she ran her finger around the rim of the glass of water sitting in front of her and tried to think about nothing.

Her attempts were useless.

All she could think about was the plan to save Jackson - to essentially spew all of his family history at him in hopes it would trigger his humanity and break his curse - and how sufficiently she was ruining everything. Jackson was still being a complete jerk to her, yet she felt so confused by her lingering feelings for him she didn't know how to conduct herself. She didn't want to be in love with him, with an asshole, but she knew she still was.

"You can't stop a feeling..." she murmured morosely under her breath, taking a swig of the water.

Exhaling audibly, Derek exited the restroom and headed toward the windows which offered a view across a park built behind the hotel. Lights twinkled over the park, sparkling on the water in the pond in the middle, over which stretched a luxuriously simple bridge. Couples wandered around in the darkness - he could see them with his night vision although a human would only see moving shapes - and he felt his black heart clench in his chest.

The past several weeks with Lydia had been confusing and irritating. She aggravated him, knew how to pick at him until she had him on edge, and he knew she enjoyed it. He didn't believe she was vindictive - although the seed was there if she ever felt like pushing it - but she was entertained by making him break down the defenses he'd built over his personality. Lydia Martin was an expert at softening him up, and he both hated and respected her for it. He fought so hard for no one to break through those walls, and somehow the tiny redhead had managed to do so in a month. It amazed him really.

But the only reason they were even acquaintances was because she owed him after almost getting him killed, and they were working together to save her boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, he didn't even know what Jackson was to her. Jackson was a snake and didn't deserve the affection of a girl like Lydia, but he knew he could never be the one to tell her that. She would have to come to that realization on her own.

Sighing a rough, growling sort of sigh, he pushed his jacket aside and planted his hands on his hips in agitation. Lydia had gotten under his skin, gotten into his mind somehow, and it irked him. The fact that she looked absolutely breathtaking tonight didn't make matters any worse. He was a man, and he was a werewolf, and those two things clashed into one big clusterfuck of testosterone. The baser side of his personality wondered what her lips would feel like against his, what her skin would feel like beneath his fingers. He wondered what other parts of her felt like as well, but he kept those musings far beneath the surface and didn't admit them even to himself. He chalked it up as merely being male and being attracted to every woman, not Lydia in particular. At least that convinced him for the time-being.

"I do believe I've never seen you in a tuxedo before, nephew," a familiar voice spoke behind him, instantly putting him on edge. Shifting his weight, he saw the reflection of his uncle in the door he faced, a small smirk on his face. Clenching his teeth, Derek turned slowly to face Peter, glaring hotly at him.

"I never thought I'd see you alive again," he hissed, "I guess we're even." Forcing himself to remain under control, he felt his body temperature rising, and he fought the urge to wolf out on his uncle. Now was not the time, and this was certainly not the place.

Peter chuckled heartily at the affront, not rankled in the least by the comment. Instead, his blue eyes regarded Derek merrily, making him want to tear the older werewolf's throat out.

"I imagined you would be more appreciative of what I've done to help your little endeavor," Peter stated, feigning dismay. Gesturing around the hotel as Derek's brow drew down in confusion, Peter smiled benignly. "The anonymous donation? Yes, that was me. I assumed a hotel was a much safer - and nicer - location for Lydia's little plan to save Jackson. It seems likely that even Gerard wouldn't be bold enough to set his kanima loose in such a public place. But I've been wrong before."

Peter shrugged nonchalantly and stepped over to the staircase which spilled out onto this level not far from the door where Derek stood. Feeling his anger abate as his curiosity about Peter's arrival began to overwhelm him, Derek shifted his weight and drew himself up, an imposing figure who stood almost a foot taller than the other werewolf.

"No need to get your feathers ruffled, Derek," Peter chided him, crossing his feet at the ankles, his calm demeanor pestering Derek. "I'm only here to support Lydia's plan, even if I don't think it's going to work..." He examined his fingernails casually as Derek stared at him in confusion.

"Not going to work... what are you talking about?"

Peter snorted and smiled, "Tossing Jackson's family history in his face isn't going to turn him into a werewolf. I imagine you don't believe it either, but you have no other ideas, so you're going along with the plan. How obedient."

Derek's teeth ground together so hard the sound was audible, and Peter's eyes widened in affected surprise. "Touchy subject? I apologize, but what we need to focus on is the real way to save Jackson."

"And how's that?" Derek asked sardonically.

"Love, of course."

Snorting, Derek smiled darkly at his uncle and shook his head. "Jackson doesn't love anyone but himself. He's a selfish little prick."

Peter clicked his tongue chidingly. "That's not true, and you know it. There is one girl who managed to breach the surface of what is Jackson..."

Derek's blue eyes went hard as he realized Peter was right. He knew exactly who that girl was, and he found himself unwilling to admit as much. He felt almost... jealous? No. He wasn't jealous. He was Derek Hale, and he wasn't obedient to such petty emotions as jealousy.

"Lydia..." he stated, his voice sounding much more wistful than he'd intended. Peter smiled at her name.

"Ah, yes. Dear Lydia. She is the key."

Finally bored by sitting alone, Lydia stood, turning to walk back toward the people on the dance floor as she reapplied her lip gloss. Her breath caught in her throat as she almost ran directly into Jackson. His head lilted to the side animalistically, like a predator sizing up his prey, and his gray-blue eyes shifted, turning reptilian and glowing bright yellow. Her mouth dropped open to scream or to say his name, to say anything at all really, but she couldn't form words. Her throat dried out and she dropped her lip gloss as her hand went limp from fear.

Scales began spreading over his attractive face, and her chest rose rapidly in fearful gulps of air. Reaching toward her, his clawed hand gripped her wrist and wrenched her arm around, spinning her so her arm was pinned behind her back as he forcibly shoved her away from the safety of the crowd and toward the server's hallways running the full length of the room.

"Only her love for Jackson can save him, or, in essence, his love for her. It always come down to the love of a woman, doesn't it, nephew?"

Derek dropped his gaze from his uncle and ran the words over and over in his head. Lydia was prepared to follow through with their plan to recite Jackson's history to him - now it sounded like such a silly idea in light of Peter's revelation - and it was going to get her nowhere but in trouble. Over the past several weeks, he'd found himself feeling protective over her as if she were a part of his pack. The idea of her being in danger piqued him, and his fists clenched at his sides. Yet, he was torn due to the fact that he had unintentionally allowed himself to become attracted to her. The thought of her loving Jackson was like a rogue itch, one that he couldn't scratch that only managed to piss him off. It was something he couldn't ignore, something he couldn't stop, and it infuriated him more than he liked. He didn't want to care about some human girl with all of the other troubles he had on his plate with the Argents and his resurrected uncle.

Finally, he looked up at his uncle and saw a smirk of satisfaction his face. He knew instantly that Peter sensed his growing affection for Lydia, and it entertained him. Surely, Peter saw it as a weakness he could exploit, and the thought rankled Derek.

"I have to find Lydia," Derek stated simply, brushing past his uncle to find the feisty little redhead.

When he was gone, Peter smiled to himself, "You do that..." Turning, he walked out the doors and into the night and was gone.