word count: 15,874
polyvore: username is 'sarcasticfina' - check under Collections for one named after this story to see all of Malia's fashion choices
episodes: 1x04 - magic bullet

XIII

Stepping out of the school, Malia spread her arms out and threw her head back. "Freedom."

Walking next to her, Danny snorted. "You need a ride home?"

She dropped her hands to her sides and shrugged. "Sure, if you don't mind."

"It'll give me a chance to pop quiz you."

"Seriously? Can I never escape math?"

He laughed under his breath. "Nope."

The squeal of tires caught her attention then and Malia's gaze moved to the parking lot. Stiles' jeep was idling at the center and standing in front of it was Derek. Her brow furrowed. "Uh… You know what, I just remembered Stiles offered to give me a ride home."

Danny raised an unconvinced eyebrow. "Sounds like a pretty pathetic excuse to get out of quiz prep."

She grinned. "What can I say? I like to live dangerously when it comes to tests."

"Uh-huh." He rolled his eyes. "Monday, study block. Be ready."

"Sounds good. Hey, enjoy your hiking date."

Danny winked at her. "I plan to."

As he walked off, Malia hurried toward the parking lot. The car behind Stiles was honking their horn while Derek had fallen limp to the ground. She could see Scott cutting toward them from where his bike was locked up.

"Shit, shit, shit," Malia muttered, picking up her pace.

The situation was attracting attention. Students from all over were turning to look, trying to see what the hold up was.

By the time Malia reached Derek's side, kneeling on the pavement at his shoulder, Stiles was just hopping out of his jeep. He and Scott joined her, staring down at Derek curiously.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Malia tucked her hair behind her ears and stared down at Derek. He was washed out with dark bags under his eyes, his skin sallow and sweaty. "You look terrible."

"Just what I came here to hear."

Scott knelt next to Malia and looked Derek over, his brows hiked.

Derek managed to push himself up to a half-seated position, his breathing heavy and strangled.

Malia tucked an arm around him to hold him up and turned a knowing look on Scott. "It was him, not the alpha."

"You were the one she shot?" Scott frowned. "What were you doing there?"

"What were you?"

Stiles' hands found his hips as he looked around nervously. "He's not looking so good."

"Why aren't you healing?" Scott wondered.

"I can't. It was—" He struggled to breathe. "It was a different kind of bullet."

Stiles leaned in eagerly. "Silver bullet?"

Derek glared up at him. "No, you idiot."

Scott turned to Malia. "Forty-eight hours…"

"It's been what, 36 at this point?" She grimaced. "He looks ready to kick the bucket."

"She was guesstimating…" He sighed. "Forty-eight was a best-case scenario."

"What?" Derek stared at him. "Who?"

"Kate," Malia answered, her mouth pursed. "Chris Argent's sister is visiting and she decided to kick it off with a little hunting. Apparently, you got caught in the crosshairs."

Derek suddenly winced, his eyes glowing a bright blue and his teeth elongating.

Scott's eyes widened and he looked around frantically, worried someone might see. "What're you doing? Stop that!"

"I don't think he can help it." Malia looked down to where Derek was clutching at his arm, old and new blood covered his hand, fingers curled into his palm, claws out and tearing through the leather fabric of his jacket. "Whatever kind of bullet it was, I think it's affecting his ability to stay in control."

"You mean…" Stiles tapped a foot nervously. "He could shift and kill us?"

Malia leaned back to see a long line of cars had formed behind Stiles' jeep. "Look, we need to get him up and out of here before someone starts asking questions." Horns were honking rapidly and people were starting to get out of their cars. She could see Allison in the distance, casting a curious eye down the way, while an impatient Jackson had climbed out of his car to see what was happening. "Help me get him up."

Malia stood, hooked an arm under Derek's, and waited for Scott to do the same on the other side. Together, they hauled him onto his feet and walked him toward the passenger door of the jeep. Once he was settled in the front seat, Malia hopped into the back.

Derek gritted his teeth, his chest heaving. "I need to know what kind of bullet it was."

Scott frowned. "How the hell are we supposed to find that out?"

"She's an Argent." He turned his head and looked back at Malia. "You'll be there tonight, won't you?"

"It's weird that you know that..." she muttered.

"Wait, what?" Scott's brow furrowed. "You're going to Allison's tonight?"

"Yeah, for dinner." Malia shrugged. "After you two finish your study session." To Derek, she said "I can't exactly guarantee anything. I doubt Kate's going to talk special bullets over dinner, but I'll do what I can."

"Snoop," he demanded.

Scott made a frustrated noise. "You're asking her to put herself in danger. If the Argents find out she's looking for something, you don't know what they'll do."

"Strong words for a guy dating one of them." Derek dropped his head back against the seat and dragged in a ragged breath. "You put yourself and me and her in danger every day, so excuse me if I don't—" He cut himself off with another groan, his body tensing as pain flared through him once more.

"We need to go." Malia turned to Scott. "You're going to Allison's now, right?"

He nodded.

"See if you can find something. I'll be there in a couple hours."

"You want me to look?" He shook his head. "How am I supposed to do that? Allison will notice."

"Tell her you're going to the bathroom or something. I don't know. Just find a way."

He sighed and then looked past Derek to Stiles, who was frowning now. "I'll call you guys if I find anything."

"I hate you for this, so much." Still, Stiles put the jeep in drive. "He's gonna bleed all over my seats…"

As they pulled out of the parking lot, Malia shifted into the middle seat and leaned forward. "How bad is it?"

"Bad." Derek shifted around in his seat, his neck strained and sweat pouring down his skin. "Can Scott handle this?"

Malia frowned and looked at Stiles, who stared back at her through the rear-view mirror. He was just as unsure as she was.

"Of course he can. But, just in case, in two hours, I can join the search. Can you last that long?"

Derek huffed a laugh at her candor. "Yeah. I can last."

"Good."

…

Stiles grunted under the weight of Derek's body, angled sideways to help half-carry him inside the Tate house.

Malia rolled her eyes. "You're so dramatic."

"This guy is like 200 pounds of muscle packed in the most ungrateful person I've ever met."

"He's hardly said anything since we left the school." She kicked her front door closed behind her. "Bring him to my room. If my dad shows up, we'll have to sneak him out my window."

Stiles stumbled his way around the living room, nearly tripping over a foot steel in the process. Grunting irritably, he told her, "He shows up out of the blue, bleeds all over my jeep, and now he's sent Scott—a werewolf— into a house full of werewolf hunters to find a single bullet. Never mind that they're also arms dealers, meaning the whole house is probably packed with bullets. He's practically setting him up to fail. Who does that?"

"Desperate, fatally wounded people?" She maneuvered them down the hall leading to her bedroom, knocking a family photo off the wall in the process. Wincing, she shook her head, and kept going, nudging her bedroom door open with her hip and backing through it.

A low growl could be heard then and Malia stilled. Turning her head, she saw Shiloh standing next to the bed, carefully keeping her injured leg off the floor. She bared her teeth and barked, her whole body tensed up, and the fur along her back standing straight. Malia could honestly say she'd never seen Shiloh react so aggressively before. Was it that Derek was a werewolf, she wondered, or maybe that he was sick and possibly dying?

Stiles waved a hand. "See, she knows what's up."

Malia sighed. "Shiloh, heel."

Shiloh kept her gaze on Derek and licked her teeth, leaning forward and lowering her head, staring up at him from sharp and focused eyes.

"Shiloh," she snapped.

Immediately, Shiloh pulled back, her ear pressed down against her head. She let out a worried whine and barked, a little higher now and not the intimidating bark she'd given before.

"To your bed," Malia ordered.

With a huff, Shiloh made her way to the corner of the room, her tail down. She crawled on top of the padded bed and curled up into a ball, watching them as they continued across the floor, growling irritably as Malia and Stiles maneuvered Derek down onto Malia's bed. Where Malia was gentle, Stiles seemed to just release him to gravity before backing up and eyeing him skeptically.

"He's sweating like crazy." Malia frowned. "Should we do something? Do we put more blankets on him or help him cool down? I've never had to do this."

"What, take care of a magically injured werewolf? Yeah, it's not your average practice." Stiles dug around in his jeans for his phone. "I'll Google it."

"I'm pretty sure the first thing it'll say is 'take him to the hospital.'" She put her hands on her hips and stared down at him searchingly.

Derek's eyes were closed, his hair damp and stuck to his forehead.

"Here, we should take his jacket off." She reached down and started carefully maneuvering it off one shoulder, pulling his arm free before she circled around to the other side. But as she tried to draw that arm out, he tensed and his eyes shot open. They briefly shone a brilliant blue before dying down to a bloodshot green. He stared at her, the dark bags under his eyes that much more pronounced. "Laura?"

Malia glanced back at Stiles, who shrugged, his eyes wide. Frowning, she looked back at Derek. "I need to get your jacket off, okay?"

"Where's mom?" His eyes fell to half-mast. "I want mom."

Malia felt her heart tug. "She's not here right now. It's just me." She peeled the fabric down his arm. "This is gonna hurt, okay?"

"My fault… It was my fault…"

Malia paused.

Stiles stepped forward then, his head cocked curiously. "What was?"

Derek let out a heavy breath. "Do you hate me…? Laur? Please, don't hate me."

She swallowed tightly. "No. I don't hate you." Malia carefully pulled Derek's arm out, only to find the sleeve of his sweater was soaked through in liquid and a fowl smell was coming off him.

"Do you smell that? 'Cause there is a serious smell coming off him…"

Malia walked to her desk, grabbed a pair of scissors out of a jar, and returned, bouncing them off her palm. She see-sawed back and forth between her feet for a moment before finally reaching for the end of Derek's sleeve. It took some effort and the cut was jagged, but eventually, she'd opened the sleeve up high enough to better see the bullet hole. All around it, the skin was a pink and sore looking, but it wasn't confined to just the hole. There were blotchy patches all over his arm, as if the infection was spreading. She grimaced as blood and a cloudy liquid streamed from the hole. "That looks… a lot worse than I was expecting."

"Oh my God!" Stiles backed up, his arms out. "Is that thing contagious?"

Derek threw his head back then, thick veins standing out against his neck. His legs kicked, heels digging into the bed. Seconds felt like minutes as he thrashed in pain and then— nothing. He sunk back against the mattress and let out a ragged sigh.

"Is he dead?" Stiles wondered.

Malia pressed a pair of fingers to Derek's neck and let out a sigh of relief. "Just passed out."

With a hum, Stiles nervously rubbed a hand over his head. "What, uh, what do you think he meant when he said it was his fault?"

She pursed her lips. "I don't know. I don't think it really matters right now."

"What? Of course it does!" His eyes widened. "What if it's about Scott? What if he's the reason Scott was bit?"

Malia shook her head. "I don't think it's about Scott at all. I think…" Her brow furrowed. "I think it's about his family. He thought I was his sister, Laura. That's who he came here for. Maybe he thinks it's his fault she died. That he wasn't there to save her or something."

"Maybe." Stiles didn't look convinced, frowning and tapping his fingers against his chin. "So, what now?"

"Text Scott. Tell him where we are. See if he's found anything yet."

With a nod, Stiles turned on his heel, leaving the room with his phone in hand.

Malia returned her attention to Derek then. He looked vulnerable in a way he'd never seemed before. The hard edges of his face relaxed, young, almost boyish. She was reminded that he wasn't that much older than her. She forgot sometimes. His prickly personality made him seem older and more in control. But he wasn't, was he? He was just as lost as the rest of them.

…

"Even werewolves get sick from time to time." Talia sat on the edge of the bed, dabbing at Derek's forehead with a cool cloth. "It's a reminder that we aren't so separate from the humans after all."

Derek's entire body was on fire from the inside out. Flames eating away at his organs before burning through his skin. That was how it felt, at least. What it looked like on the outside was sweat and weakness. "But we heal." He dug his elbows down against the bed as he willed the blankets wrapped around him to grow simultaneously thicker and thinner. If he wasn't bursting with heat, an icy chill filled his veins, making his teeth chatter and his bones rattle. "I shouldn't get sick."

"As shifters, our immune systems are stronger than the average person, that's true. And it takes a lot to infect us, but when it does…" She frowned. "Sometimes, the only thing you can do is wait an illness out."

"What if I can't?" So much of him wanted to give up. To close his eyes and will away the pain in whatever way he could. He blamed Peter. His uncle had brought him to the family vault and told him not to touch anything, but Derek was bored. He'd wandered down aisle after aisle until eventually finding an intricate wooden box. Inside were six vials of something unidentifiable. A black liquid with tiny green flecks swirling around inside. He'd picked one up to sniff it. A stupid idea. But, he hadn't thought whatever was inside could hurt him. Peter had grabbed it from him, quickly capped the top, and then knocked him out cold. When Derek woke up, it was to find himself at home, in excruciating pain, his mother next to him.

"You will." Arms crossed over his broad chest, Derek's father stepped out from the shadows to peer down at Derek with a stern expression. "Consider it a test. The sooner you pass, the sooner the pain will leave."

Drowsy, Derek muttered, "I didn't study."

His father laughed, a booming, rocky noise from deep in his chest. "It's not the kind of test you can study for."

"What if I fail?"

"Then you die."

Derek's eyes opened wider then, his brows arched. "Really?"

Joseph Khol wasn't a hyperbolic man. He said what he meant and didn't waste words when he didn't need to. While Derek's mom carefully weighed her words before saying them, it felt different. Talia was genuine. When she spoke, people listened. When Joseph spoke, people tended to cower. He expected better of his children and Derek worried that he might be letting him down in this moment. Would his father regret him if he died? Or would he mourn him? Was there a middle-ground that included both?

"Derek," Talia's said, firm and demanding.

He turned his gaze to her, searching her face. "Am I gonna die?"

Her smile was slow and soft. "No, my love. You're going to fight. And you're going to live."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know you." She reached for him, her fingers gentle against his cheek. "You're stronger than you think. You always have been."

Derek swallowed tightly and leaned into her fingers, seeking out the comfort she shared in spades. "I feel weak."

"We all do. But we don't let a temporary weakness rule us. You will survive and you'll be stronger for it."

"That's right," his father said. "We don't fail. We fight. And we continue."

Derek looked from one to the other until finally, he nodded. "Okay." He wasn't sure how strong he was or how long his fight would go on, but he trusted them.

…

An hour later, they still hadn't heard from Scott, and Derek wasn't looking any better. He'd woken up, though. That was an upside.

"Where am I?" He looked around, brow furrowed and movements sluggish.

Malia had rolled her desk chair over to the side of the bed and was sitting in it, legs crossed under her. She chewed on a granola bar, swiping the crumbs from her lap. "My place. We thought about going to yours, but considering you weren't there when we went looking for you yesterday, I wasn't sure if you were avoiding it or something."

"Too open." He sunk back against the pillow, as relaxed as a person could be while suffering intense pain. "Can't protect myself when I'm like this."

"And you trust a few teenagers to do a better job?" She raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure you put your eggs in the right basket here."

Derek snorted. "Kind of limited on who I can trust."

"Should I be flattered?"

He turned his gaze in her direction and searched her face. "Maybe. I don't know…" He sighed. "You remind me of someone."

Malia nodded thoughtfully. "Laura? You called me that before you passed out."

"I did?" He looked away, confused. "Did I say anything else?"

She considered telling him, but then thought better of it. He didn't owe her an explanation around his family trauma and he'd probably second guess their help if he thought he might be spilling personal truths. As complicated as this situation was, she needed to see it through. "No. Not really."

A beat passed before he said, "Not Laura. You kinda look like her, but that's not who you remind me of."

"No?"

He swallowed tightly, licking dry lips and letting out a sigh through his nose. "I had twin sisters, a year younger than me. Gabriela and Adrienne… They, uh, they were like you."

Her brow furrowed. "How's that?"

"Blunt." His mouth inched up faintly. "Adrienne said everything she ever thought. No filter. Used to drive people crazy. Teachers were always sending home notes, said she was defiant and rude. Our dad, he'd tell her not to change. That if people didn't like hearing the truth, then they should change what they were doing to provoke it." He shook his head. "He would've liked you."

Malia leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "You must miss them."

Derek winced. "Every day." He turned his head to look at her. "What about you? You miss yours?"

She stared back at him, her chest feeling tight, like a cleaver was lodged in it. "Every day."

He nodded and licked dry, chapped lips. "Was it quick? Your mom and your sister."

"They said it was… Never felt a thing."

Malia always wondered about that. If her dad said it to make her feel better. What if it was the opposite? She'd had her fair share of nightmares about exactly that. Of Kylie bleeding out in the backseat, crying for their mom, their dad, for her. Or her mom, remembering the last thing they'd said to each other, regretting it, wishing it could be different. Were they scared? Did they know it was coming while it was happening? Or was it over before they could even realize?

"Mine weren't so lucky." Derek's face darkened, his gaze distant.

Fire was a worse way to go, wasn't it? Smoke inhalation would be a small mercy. But burning? That had to be one of the most painful ways to go.

"Has Scott found the bullet yet?"

Malia shook her head, trying to rid it of her dark and morbid thoughts. "No. He's working on it." She didn't know that for sure, actually. Since he wasn't picking up or answering any of Stiles' frantic texts.

Malia wondered if Derek would catch on to her lie; could he heart it in her heartbeat or smell it on her somehow? It seemed his pain was too much of a distraction for him to use any of those tricks, however, since he instead seemed to take her word at face value.

His breathing seemed shallower, chest noticeably heaving and dipping each time he attempted a breath. "Gab… Gabriela used to say she was the nice one."

"Nice what?"

"Twin." He was looking at her, but Malia wasn't sure he was seeing her. "They used to follow me everywhere... When I was a kid, mom used to call them my ducklings…" He blinked quickly against a sheen of tears. "I'd complain all the time, tell them to go away, but they never did… She told me I'd miss it one day, that I'd miss them. I didn't believe her… I was wrong."

Malia fiddled with the cuff of her sweater, digging her nails into the braided fabric. "Kylie used to follow me, too. She was like my shadow. We fought about it a lot. Sometimes I just needed space…" She swallowed against a ball of emotion— regret, pain, loss— lodged in her throat. "After she died, I could feel it, you know? That absence..." She shook her head. "I couldn't hear her footsteps right behind me anymore… I was alone. And I hated it."

He gritted his teeth as another wave of pain ran through him. Malia could see the strain in his muscles, the fatigue in his face, but he road it through, every time. When his head slid sideways and his body fell flat once more, she panicked a little. Reaching for him, she pressed her fingers to his wrist, searching for a pulse.

He jumped and his eyes shot open, focusing on her, glazed with pin-prick pupils. He grabbed at her forearm and squeezed. "Don't tell mom. Promise me, Laur. Please?"

Malia winced at the pressure of his fingers. "Derek, let go."

He shook his head. "I won't see her again. It was a mistake. A stupid mistake. I'll never… I won't… I promise…" His fingers loosened, hand eventually falling back to the bed, and Derek was lost once more to sleep.

Sitting back in her chair, Malia rubbed at her arm, her mouth turned down in a frown.

"Hey, any progress?" Stiles wandered into the room, looking from Derek to Malia.

"No." She cleared her throat, the lingering taste of her grief still bitter in her mouth. "You?"

He shook his head. "Scott's still not picking up." He chewed on a fingernail. "Should we do something? What if he's in trouble?"

Malia sighed. "I don't know."

"He's in a house full of hunters. What if they have a way to figure out if a person's a werewolf and they do it to anyone who visits? What if that's happening right now and that's why he's not texting us?" He started pacing. "What if when you show up, they spring a trap on you, too?"

"Stiles," she snapped. "Worrying isn't helping. Just keep texting him."

"Yeah, because we've had so much luck with that." Still, he dug his phone out.

Turning her attention back to the bed, Malia frowned down at a sleeping Derek. She wondered what he was dreaming about.

…

Derek stirred awake, every bone feeling like liquid. He turned his head to find a familiar face sitting in a chair next to him.

Adrienne snorted. "You look like crap. The wet kind that someone just stepped in."

Standing next to her, Gabriela cuffed Adrienne's shoulder. "Be nice. He almost died."

"Are we sure he didn't? He's as pale as a ghost."

Gabriela rolled her eyes before telling Derek, "Mom's herbology friend mixed something up for you. It's not a cure, but it's supposed to help flush your system out."

Derek hummed. "What time is it?"

"Don't you mean what day is it? You've been out for two days straight, Sleeping Beauty." Adrienne leaned back in her chair and wrinkled her nose. "You're starting to stink."

Gabriela nodded. "Ben's on sponge bath duty. He's gonna drop in later."

Derek grimaced. "I don't need his help. I can't do it myself."

"You can barely move." Adrienne rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I asked mom if I could have your room after you died and she said I had to ask you first. So… can I?"

"No."

Scowling, she reached over and flicked his arm. "Jerk."

"Take it easy, Ade." Gabriela knocked against Adrienne's chair with her hip. "He's weak enough, he'll probably bruise."

"Are you telling me to stop or not to leave any evidence?"

Gabriela shrugged. "Either."

A half-grin turned up Adrienne's lips, but she retracted her hand. "Laura said we should read to you or something. Help distract you from the pain."

"Doesn't hurt so much anymore…" Actually, he felt kind of numb. In an entirely terrifying way, in fact. "You think that's a bad sign?"

Adrienne and Gabriela exchanged a look and then turned back to him. Together, at the same time, they said, "No." — "Yes."

He sighed. "Both of you suck."

Gabriela shrugged. "At least we know better than to go sniffing weird things in the family vault."

He rolled his eyes and leaned back against his pillow. "Go away."

"Fine." Adrienne hopped off the chair and walked to the door. "See if we visit you on your next death bed!"

Gabriela followed, drawing the door closed as she went. "Get better already. You're dragging down everyone's mood."

Derek stared at the steepled roof of his bedroom until boredom or illness or both swept him back into the lurking darkness of sleep.

…

Malia dabbed a cool cloth against a sleeping Derek's face and frowned. "What time is it?"

Stiles was pacing. "How would we explain this to my dad? I mean, we got this guy arrested like a week ago. If he dies, that's not going to look too good on us."

"He's not gonna die."

"Says who? Are you seeing the same thing I'm seeing? His arm is something out of a sci-fi movie, there's some kind of infection in his veins, and his fever? Yeah, right off the charts. Any regular human's brain would be leaking out the ears, that's how high his fever is, all right? He's not just knocking on death's door, he kicked it in."

"Stiles." Malia looked up at him. "I know you're freaking out, but we need to focus. I don't know what Scott's doing, but if he can't find that bullet, then I'm going to have to. Which is why I need to know what time it is."

"Right." He turned his phone over and grimaced. "Almost five. Is that too early?"

She sighed. "Has he texted back at all?"

"No, nothing. He— Wait, he's typing." He stared down at this phone impatiently. "Come on, come on..." He frowned. "Okay. All he said is that he's looking."

"It's something. He's not dead at least."

"Wait, how do we know this is really him?" Stiles snapped his fingers, his eyes wide. "What if the Argents figured it out and they're just pretending to be Scott and he's strung up in their dungeon or something."

She blinked. "Dungeon…?"

"They're hunters. It's not a stretch to think they have a torture dungeon."

"Uh-huh." Malia pulled her own phone out and typed out a message to Scott— 'stiles thinks you're hunter chow and someone else is texting from your phone. proof of life?'

Malia stared at her phone, watching as a bubble appeared to show he was typing, and then— 'your middle name is natalia.' Half-smiling, she looked up. "It's him."

"Why? How? What'd he say?"

"I tested him and he passed." She shrugged. "All we can do is wait. If he finds something— great. If not, I'll be there in an hour anyway."

Stiles frowned and turned a look on Derek. "Are we sure he has that long?"

Malia sighed. No, they weren't.

"I already dug up one grave. It's hard work." He shook his head. "I don't think I could dig another one. It was hard enough carrying him from the jeep."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that's my top concern right now. How hard it's going to be to carry a dead body into the woods and bury it."

He held his hands up. "It's worth considering. That's all I'm saying."

…

"The water's too hot."

Ben rolled his eyes. "It's not too hot, that's in your head." He sat on a chair next to the bathtub, a booted foot resting on the rim and his hands clasped together in his lap. "C'mon, you said you could to this. I'm just here to make sure you don't drown."

"I can." Derek glared at him and reached for the cloth floating by his knee. "Everybody keeps treating me like I'm gonna break."

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you sniff something that puts even the strongest werewolf down." He winked reassuringly. "But you're out of the woods now."

"Then why do I still feel so tired?"

"Your body's healing— slowly. It'll get there." Ben shook his head, a half smile forming. "You ask me, it's pretty cool."

Derek's brow furrowed. "How?"

"You survived something that's taken out people a lot bigger and a lot stronger."

Pursing his lips, Derek scrubbed down his arms, wincing as they seemed to grow heavier with each movement. "I don't feel like I did."

Ben had nothing to say to that, instead resting his head against the back of the chair and staring at the ceiling. A few beats passed before he said, "Mom was pretty worried."

"She was?" Derek looked up, surprised. "She didn't look worried."

"She was trying to be strong for you, that's what she does. But alpha's get scared, too. You're not just her beta, you're her son."

"Yeah, but..." He grimaced. "I screw up all the time. Last year, with Paige... and now this."

"You're a kid." Ben shrugged. "It's gonna happen. Best you can do is learn from it."

"I'm not a kid," he grumbled. "You always talk to me like I'm little. I'm sixteen."

"Yeah, and I remember the trouble I used to get in when I was your age." Ben lifted his head to look at him. "You're a lot younger than you think you are. You've been through some stuff, but that's just the beginning. If you're lucky, this'll be the worst thing that happens to you."

Derek sighed. He rested his arms on his knees for a moment. "Nothing could be as bad as what happened to Paige... I did that."

"You made a mistake and after, you did what you had to." Ben grabbed up the washcloth then and plopped it down on Derek's head, sending water streaming down the sides of his face. "I'm not gonna lie to you. Last year was rough. You did some things you can't take back. But... your heart was in the right place. You fall in love and you think that's the be all, end all. We all go through it. When I was sixteen, it was Chelsea Wong. She was smart, beautiful, funny. My dream girl."

"What happened?"

"We made it a year. It was great, but we were young and we were both figuring out who we were. It just didn't work out. Sometimes you grow apart, even if you don't want to."

"Paige was different." He pulled the cloth down and fiddled with it between his fingers. "I'm never gonna forget what I did."

"Maybe not. But at some point, you're going to have to forgive yourself."

He frowned. "Why?"

"What kind of life are you gonna have if you spend it regretting a mistake you made when you were a kid?"

"I don't know."

Ben's hand clamped down on Derek's neck and gave him a little shake. "You're a good person, Derek. You just do stupid things sometimes. You'll grow out of it, trust me. I did."

Derek snorted. "You sure about that?"

Ben grinned. "Shut up. And will you finish washing up already? Don't make me actually bathe you. I've got no bedside manner."

He rolled his eyes. "You're in med school. Isn't that a requirement?"

"What, I have to save lives and be nice to people?" He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "Sooner you wash up, the sooner we can steal the TV from Laura. One good thing about you almost dying is that half the family was so worried, they'll do just about anything to help you feel better."

"What about the other half?"

"They're still trying to figure out who should get your bedroom."

…

"Do you hear that?"

"What?" Stiles' jerked his hand out of a bag of potato chips, crumbs still stuck to his chin, his eyes darting worriedly. "Heard what?"

"That's my dad's truck. He's here." She pushed off her chair and hurried to the door, closing it quickly. "We need to go. Now."

He wiped his hand off on his jeans and tossed the open bag on to Malia's desk. "But if we just stay in your room, Scott can bring us the bullet here."

She shook her head. "No. We can't risk it. We need to move him."

"Where?"

"We'll figure it out on the way. Look, I'll help you get him out the window, but you'll have to get him to the jeep. I'll distract my dad."

"Are you kidding me? I barely got him in here and that was with your help!"

She shushed him and pressed her ear against her door. She could hear her dad's clomping steps moving around the floor. "Stiles, seriously, you need to go." Crossing to her window, she yanked it open and then turned to the bed. "Help me with him."

With a sigh, Stiles moved to the other side of the bed. Together, they heaved Derek up and onto his feet.

His eyes fluttered open and he looked between them, brow furrowed and mouth set in a frown. "What's happening?"

"Road trip." Malia pulled his arm over her shoulders and helped him walk. "This is gonna suck, but I need you to climb out the window. Stiles is going to help you on the other side. I'll be right out. We're gonna take you somewhere else. Somewhere safe."

Derek's head lolled to one side.

"I'm gonna take that as your wholehearted approval." She patted his chest and then motioned to Stiles. "You go first, then you can help him through."

"Yeah, great. And when I drop him on the porch and you and your dad come out, what am I supposed to say?" Stiles ducked through the window and landed on the porch, motioning with his hands. "All right, let's do this."

"Derek." Malia caught his chin and gave it a shake, waking him. "Stay with me, okay?"

"Laura?" he mumbled.

She sighed. "Yeah, it's me— Laura. Look, I need you to do this, okay? Just climb through the window."

"It hurts. Everything hurts."

"I know. But, you have to do this."

He grimaced but eventually reached out, planting his good hand against the window sill and ducking through it. It took some time, but eventually, he was able to climb out, nearly toppling as his legs seemed to cave from under him.

"Okay, all right, I got him." Stiles waved her off. "Go!"

Malia shoved her window closed and then raced across her room, walking through her door to make her way into the living room. Henry was sitting on the couch, an unopened beer can in hand. "Hey... you're home early."

"Yeah, long day at work. Just wanted to get home, kick my feet up." Henry frowned, tapping his fingers against the top of the can. "Thought you were having dinner at your friend's house. Addison or something."

"Allison," she corrected. "And I am. I'm just about to head there now." She heard a thud then and winced.

Henry frowned. "What was that?"

"Shiloh," she lied. "She, uh, she keeps getting on my bed and when she jumps down her cast knocks against the floor. It's kind of loud."

"Should she be doing that? She's not going to hurt herself?"

"She's doing okay. She has a check-up with Deaton next week, but I think she's healing all right." Her gaze wandered to the window then and she watched Stiles and Derek weave awkwardly across the porch to reach the stairs. She could see a red-faced Stiles panting, his face screwed up with the effort he was exerting.

"Saw Stiles' jeep parked out front. Is he here?"

"He is, yeah. He's driving me to Allison's. He's not inside though, he was... He's in the woods."

"The woods." Henry blinked. "Why?"

"A biology project. He needs to find something... biological... and it's supposed to grow around here, so..." She shrugged. "Anyway, I should go. Find him. And leave." She pointed at the door. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah, sure." He cracked the tab on his beer and Malia winced. "Have a good time, honey."

"Thanks."

Malia rushed out the door, closing it behind her with a snap. Stiles and Derek had only made it halfway down the driveway by the time she reached them. "Did you fall?"

"A little." Stiles huffed. "He's heavy, okay?"

Shaking her head, Malia helped carry him the rest of the way. She yanked the door open and got Derek situated inside before climbing into the back.

"I don't want to be the bearer of bad news here, but we're running out of time." Stiles yanked his door closed. "And since you won't even talk about how we're going to hide a dead body—"

"I'm not dying," Derek groaned. "I have a last resort."

Malia frowned. "I don't think I want to know."

"I do! What's your plan? And why don't we just go with that instead? Because I don't know if you've noticed, but you're starting to smell... like death."

Derek glared at him. "Start the car. Now."

Stiles narrowed his eyes at him and shifted in his seat. "I don't think you should be barking orders with the way you look, okay? In fact, I think if we wanted to, we could probably drag your little werewolf ass through these woods and leave you for dead."

"Start the car or I'm gonna rip your throat out… with my teeth."

Malia rolled her eyes. "We need to go. My dad's going to start wondering what we're doing."

"Fine. But for the record..." Stiles shoved his keys into the ignition. "I'm starting the car because of that, not because I'm afraid of his... teeth."

Derek slumped down into his seat. They hadn't even fully pulled out of the driveway before he'd passed out again. The more he slept, the more worried she was he wouldn't wake up.

Stiles drummed his hands against the steering wheel. "Where are we going?"

Malia chewed her lip. "It has to be safe, quiet, no chance of anyone getting in..." An idea formed. "The clinic."

"What?"

"Deaton should be gone by now. It's sterile and nobody will drop by after hours." She nodded. "We'll go to the clinic, drop Derek off, then you can bring me to Allison's early."

Stiles frowned at her through the rear-view mirror. "How do we get in?"

"There's a spare key behind the dumpster. Scott told me about it."

"What?" He pulled a face, offended. "Why didn't I hear about this?"

"I don't know." She shook her head. "Does it matter?"

A slow smile started edging up Stiles' mouth. "Do you realize how ironic it is that we're bringing a sick werewolf to the vet's?"

Exasperated, she sighed. "Just drive."

…

"How much longer are you gonna stay in bed? It's been a week!" Vale used her feet to spin the chair she was in around and around, her head tipped back as she stared at the ceiling. "Lucas is the only one that'll play basketball with me and I don't know if you noticed, but he's not much competition."

"Sorry my near-death experience is interrupting your basketball practice." Derek leaned into the pillows stacked against his headboard, a book open in his lap. "Mom says I should rest at least one more day. If I'm up to it, I'll play with you tomorrow."

"You mean you'll lose to me." Vale stopped her chair with her foot hooked on the edge of his bed and grinned at him. "So, how are you really feeling?"

"Like crap."

"Dad says it's an honor." She rolled her eyes. "That you lived, I mean. Not that you were dumb enough to sniff some weird tube you found just lying around."

He sighed. "It was inside a box and I didn't think we'd keep something that could kill us."

"We're not the only werewolves around." She snorted. "But seriously, dad says it's a miracle you lived. I'm pretty sure he was already digging a hole out back."

Derek scowled. "No, he wasn't."

She grinned, satisfied that she'd annoyed him. "No, but he was probably thinking of where to put you. Maybe under that tree you like."

"We're surrounded by trees. We live in the middle of a forest."

"Yeah, but you have a favorite one," she said in a 'duh' fashion. "I know because it's great for climbing. Cora hangs off it like a monkey all the time."

"Not a bad place to bury me, I guess."

"Well, now we don't have to worry about it." She slumped down in her chair and rolled a foam ball between her hands. "I'm glad you didn't."

"Didn't what?"

"Kick the bucket."

Derek's lips twitched. "Poetic."

"Whatever," she muttered. "I just need you for basketball practice."

"Uh-huh."

"Cora's too small, Lucas sucks, and Adrienne and Gabriela always team up—" She crewed her mouth up irritably. "—which isn't fair."

"What about Laura?"

She sighed. "On the off chance she isn't at college, she's too..."

"Competitive?"

Vale shook her head. "Strong."

Derek's brows arched. "Are you saying I'm weak?"

"Weaker than Laura, yeah." Vale shrugged. "Nothing to be ashamed about."

With a snort, he said, "I'm not."

Her gaze cut toward him curiously. "Weaker than her or ashamed?"

"Ashamed." He stared at her knowingly. "Most of the women in this family are stronger than me. You will be, too. If you ever hit that growth spurt anyway."

Vale scowled. "I'm not short!"

"Sure, you aren't."

With a sigh, she threw the foam basketball at him. When it smacked him directly in the face, she laughed. "And the crowd goes wild!" She mimicked a cheering crowd and threw her hands up. "Vale Hale, MVP of the family."

Shaking his head, Derek tossed the ball from hand to hand. "Keep it up and Lucas will be your permanent basketball partner."

"Hey!" She frowned at him. "Don't joke about things like that."

…

Once Derek was settled on a steel bed in the operating room of the vet clinic, Stiles and Malia darted right back out, jumping into the jeep and making their way to the Argent house.

"So, what are you gonna do?" Stiles looked from the road to her nervously. "How are you gonna find this bullet?"

Malia scrubbed a hand over her forehead and sighed. "I don't know. I'll find out what Scott's done so far and pick up from there. Maybe he can keep them distracted while I snoop."

"That's your plan? Have the werewolf distract the hunters?"

"They don't know he's a werewolf." She paused. "But they do know he's dating Allison…"

Stiles' brow furrowed. "So?"

"Maybe, while they're interrogating him about his intentions, I can sneak around under their radar."

"So, you're just gonna throw him under the bus?"

"He heals, he'll be fine." Pulling an elastic off her wrist, she dragged her hair up into a ponytail and frowned to herself. "I don't like this. It feels weird."

"What, snooping around someone's house?"

"No. Being around Allison's dad. I feel... I don't know. Nervous isn't the right word. But even before I knew he was a hunter, it was like something about him was just off. I have to do this, I know that, but..." She shook her head. "It's weird, it's like my instincts are telling me not to."

"Maybe it's ingrained in him. Hunters kill, right? So, it's not so far-fetched that you get the vibe you should avoid a killer."

"Yeah." She pursed her lips. "It's fine. I'll survive."

Stiles pulled his jeep to a stop in front of the Argent house just as a silver SUV was pulling into the driveway. "Text me. If you think they've figured something out or they're onto you then grab Scott and get the hell out of there. Screw Derek, all right? Making sure you and Scott live through this is what matters."

Malia nodded faintly and stared out the windshield at a tall, blonde woman, athletic in build and effortlessly beautiful. She moved around to the back of the truck to raise the trunk, laughing at something Malia couldn't hear.

"Is that her?"

Malia nodded. Allison had shown her a picture of Kate before. The two of them with their heads together, smiling warmly. Picturesque if she hadn't known the background on the Argent family.

"I'll text you when I find something." She hooked her hand on the door handle. "Go back to the clinic, keep an eye on Derek."

Stiles scowled, but nodded.

Hopping out of the jeep, Malia made her way up the drive, wiping suddenly sweaty palms on her jeans. Licking dry lips, she called out, "You need some help?"

Chris Argent looked up first, a half-smile upturning one side of his mouth. "Malia," he greeted. "You're a little early."

"Looks like she's right on time to help bring these groceries in." Kate stepped back from the end of the truck and grinned. "You're Allison's friend, right? I'm her aunt, Kate. I've heard a lot about you."

Malia nodded. "Yeah, same. She's been talking about you non-stop for two days."

"Two days? That's all I get." She laughed lightly. "I would've figured at least a week."

"She only found out you were coming in on Monday, cut her some slack." Chris raised a bag then. "I need to drop this off in the garage. You mind helping out, Malia?"

"Sure. Free food is worth a little manual labour." She walked to the truck and reached inside for a few bags.

Kate joined her, grabbing up a couple of her own. "What is in the water around here? Between you and Allison, I think I'm having an early mid-life crisis."

Malia glanced at her. "Pretty sure you don't have anything to worry about."

Kate smirked.

They made their way inside then. Malia followed Kate down the hall to the kitchen, casting her eyes around as she did. Every time she visited she was struck by how large the house was, especially in comparison to her own. She put the bags down on the counter and watched as Kate unloaded a few things, putting them away. Malia followed suit, unbagging what was closest to her. Since she wasn't familiar with where everything went, she left it on the counter and lingered awkardly.

Kate glanced at her. "So, you and Allison are close then?"

"Yeah." Malia shrugged. "We lucked out. We're into a lot of the same things."

"Is that right?" Kate moved around the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards and the fridge. "Well, I'm glad. It's good for her. She needs more friends."

Chris appeared in the kitchen then, dropping off a few more bags before making his way to the front. He looked grumpier than he had when Malia had first arrived and a pit of uncertainty welled in her stomach. Kate chased after him, ducking her head to talk to him. Malia couldn't hear, but whatever he said made Kate laugh and him only look more irritated.

Malia followed after them, only to find Allison was standing outside, too. Along with Scott, who was carrying the last bag of groceries up the walkway.

Chris was quick to reach out and take it from him.

Scott looked past him, brows hiked as he spotted her. "Lia, hey. When'd you get here?"

"Not long ago." She stared at him meaningfully, wishing there was a way to ask him what, if anything, he'd found. But they were standing in front of a shortlist of everyone they couldn't talk freely in front of.

Allison spun around, grinning as she looked from Malia to her aunt. "You guys met?"

"Briefly. I'm glad she's sticking around for dinner. I can interrogate her a little more." Kate winked as she walked past them, making her way to the truck to close the trunk.

Scott frowned, turning a worried look on Malia.

She shook her head.

Scott dragged his attention over to Allison, shifting side to side on his feet. "So, studying?"

"Now that Malia's here, I think she can take over," Chris said, his voice stern.

Scott stared at him a beat and then smiled awkwardly at Allison. "Um...Guess I'll see you later then?"

Chris answered, "At school."

Allison rolled her eyes, looking irritated.

As Scott lingered, looking at Malia nervously, Chris motioned. "You, on your bike. You two—" He pointed to Allison and Malia. "—inside."

"Oh, come on, Chris. Really? They were making out in the garage, not shooting amateur porn." Kate grinned. She hooked a hand over Scott's shoulder and squeezed. "You, with the adorable brown eyes. Drop your bike, you're staying for dinner."

Allison's brows hiked in surprise and she turned to look at Malia. So did Scott, who somehow managed to look both relieved and disappointed.

Kate had made up her mind and wouldn't be told otherwise. She walked right past everyone and into the house, leaving the remaining four to stand outside in awkward silence.

Allison looked around and then hurried after her aunt, tugging at Malia's wrist as she went.

Malia let herself be towed inside and wondered if it was better or worse to have Scott there with her.

…

Derek was twisting and turning on the surgical bed, his skin unnaturally pallid and drenched in sweat. He turned glazed, red-rimmed eyes on Stiles, who was keeping close to the wall. "Malia," Derek grunted. "Where's Malia?"

"I dropped her off at the Argents. She's doing your dirty work and looking for that magical bullet."

Derek squeezed his eyes shot and breathed heavily through his nose. "Hurry."

"She's doing what she can, all right?" He tossed a hand up. "Why'd you wait so long to come to us anyway?"

Derek growled, his eyes flashing blue as he sneered in Stiles' general direction. "I was hiding... If they found me, they'd kill me."

"Looks like the bullet's already doing that." Stiles crossed his arms over his chest and slowly walked toward him. "I don't know what you said or did to make Malia trust you, but for the record, I don't."

Squirming, Derek turned his head forward and stared drowsily at the ceiling. "She's smart... Trusts her instincts... Even if she doesn't know..." He relaxed against the bed.

"Know what?" Stiles frowned. "Hey, what doesn't she know?"

But Derek had passed out again.

Scoffing, Stiles walked back to the wall and dug his phone out, sending both Scott and Malia a text— 'eta?'

Neither replied.

...

"You wake him up."

"No, you."

"This was your idea."

"Yeah, but I don't want him to get mad at me."

"Coward." A finger poked Derek's cheek. "Hey, are you dead or what?"

Derek opened his eyes slowly and glared at the 'poker,' which happened to be a grinning and unapologetic Cora. "No."

"Good! Then you can make waffles."

He frowned. "Says who?"

"Me!" She bounced on the bed next to him. "Dad said you're mostly healed."

"Mostly isn't all." Derek dragged a hand over his face and rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?"

Lucas grimaced. "Early."

"Is anybody else up?"

"Just Ben. He went for a run." Lucas shrugged. "Everyone else is asleep."

With a sigh, Derek gathered his strength and sat up. Technically, he was no longer at risk of dying, but his body still felt sluggish.

"Yes!" Cora cried cheerfully, hopping off the bed and hurrying toward the door. The pads of her feet slapped loudly against the wood floors.

"She woke me up, too. I don't know why. She's just in a good mood." Lucas lingered next to him. "Are you okay? You can walk?"

"Yeah. Just tired." Still, Derek banded an arm around his ribs as he walked to the door. "It's not as bad as it was."

"Did you ever find out what it was? The stuff in the vial."

"Peter said it was some kind of toxin. He read somewhere that the reaction time might be slower if I wasn't awake, so he knocked me out. That's what he says, anyway." He held onto the banister as he made his way down a flight of stairs, his body still far weaker than he'd ever felt before. "Vale thinks he had it to take out other werewolves, since it only affects our kind."

"Maybe." Lucas' brow furrowed as he followed him down. "Was it really bad? I mean, do you think you were close to dying?"

"Felt like I was."

He hummed.

"But I'm okay now." Derek looked back at him and half-smiled. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Yeah, sure." But Lucas didn't look so convinced.

Reaching out, Derek ruffled Lucas's hair, which he knew Lucas hated, but that was why he did it. "Were you worried about me?"

"What? No." Lucas combed his hair back into place with his fingers. "Mom was pretty shook up, though. And dad pretended he wasn't, but I could tell."

"Yeah?"

"Duh." Lucas kept an eye on him as he maneuvered down the last set of stairs to the main floor. "I heard dad talking to Ben. He said he was gonna kill Uncle Peter if you died."

"It's not Peter's fault." Even if he had blamed Peter when it was first happening. "I was stupid, I shouldn't have been snooping around."

"You know dad and Peter don't get along." He shrugged. "It's pretty mutual, actually."

"That's because dad thinks Peter wants to be alpha."

"Doesn't he?"

"No." Derek shook his head. "He'd never do anything to mom. He loves her."

Lucas hummed, his brow furrowed. "Power does weird things to people. I hope I'm never an alpha."

"You planning on running away from the pack you already have? 'Cause the only way you become alpha is if we die or you kill some other pack's alpha."

"Yeah, I know. I just meant... I don't know. Some people can handle power, right? Like mom and Laura. But other people, they're just not built for it."

"And you think that's Peter?"

"Don't you?"

Derek frowned to himself thoughtfully. Peter was reckless. An alpha needed to be steady, to think of the pack before themselves. He wasn't sure Peter could do that. "Yeah, maybe."

"Hey!" Cora skidded out of the kitchen, hands on her hips and tapping her foot. "Are we having waffles or what?"

Derek grinned. "We are. Did you get everything out?"

She grinned up at him toothily. "I even turned on the waffle maker!"

Derek ruffled her hair as he passed her. "Come on. You can help me make the batter."

For the moment, Derek put what Lucas had said aside. As much as he didn't think Peter was meant to be an alpha, he didn't see any reason to worry about it. Talia would remain the Hale alpha for a long while yet. And when Laura was ready to take on the mantle, she would lead the family just as well. So, both his dad's and Lucas' fears were for nothing.

…

Malia flopped down on the end of Allison's bed and leaned back, resting on her elbows. "Is it just me or does your dad kind of hate Scott?"

Allison's eyes widened. "He doesn't hate him." She turned a look on Scott. "He doesn't hate you."

Scott lingered next to Allison's dresser, fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt.

"He's just protective," Allison insisted.

"Uh-huh." Malia half-grinned at Scott. "You remember the first time you met my dad?"

Scott's mouth inched up at the corner. "He was holding a gun."

"Seriously?" Allison looked between them, her eyes wide. "But weren't you like, ten?"

"He wasn't trying to intimidate me." Scott turned to face them, his expression warm and fond. "It was a pellet gun and he was trying to scare the raccoons away from the garbage cans. Me and Stiles didn't know that though. We were in the middle of nowhere, about to knock on the door, when it swung open and then there's this big guy with crazy eyes and a gun. I thought he was gonna kill us."

"What happened?"

"Stiles ran." Malia rolled her eyes. "I don't think he's ever moved that fast in his life."

"And you?" Allison wondered, looking at Scott.

"I think I fainted."

"Scott panicked. And because his lungs were so bad, he wasn't getting enough air and literally passed right out." Malia grinned and shook her head. "We put him on the couch to sleep it off."

"When I woke up, Stiles was sitting on the back of the couch, watching TV and eating cereal. Mr. Tate apologized a few times, explained what happened. Most intense first meeting of my life."

"My dad literally ran you over," Allison reminded.

"Oh." His brow furrowed. "Yeah, that's true... I don't have very good luck with dads, I guess."

Malia shrugged. "Sheriff Stilinski likes you."

Scott half-smiled. "Only when me and Stiles stay out of trouble."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty sure he thinks you're a good influence that Stiles is slowly corrupting."

Allison took a seat in a chair and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "You guys are so lucky."

Malia's gaze moved to hers. "Why?"

"You have each other. And Stiles." She shook her head. "I feel like I've always been looking for that, you know? The kind of friendship that really sticks with you."

"Malia didn't like me when we first met," Scott told her. He circled around to take a seat on the edge of the bed and looked back at Malia, who frowned. "It's true."

"I didn't dislike you. I just... thought you were too nice."

He laughed under his breath. "And I was scared you were going to steal Stiles away from me."

"I thought you'd hate me and Stiles would pick you."

Scott grinned. "He's a lot smarter than we give him credit for. He knew we'd become friends, eventually."

"How did you?" Allison wondered, drawing their attention. "I mean, if you didn't like each other at first."

"I liked her," Scott said. "I could just tell she didn't like me as much."

"I was cautious," Malia corrected, staring up at profile.

Scott rolled his eyes. "You called me bucket head for a full week."

"You had that awful haircut back then."

He snorted. "I made mom take me in to get it cut. You gave me a complex."

Malia shrugged, unrepentant. "I did you a favor."

Scott chuckled.

"Anyway." Malia looked at Allison. "What happened was we were all supposed to go to this movie—"

"Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy," Scott interrupted. "Malia was obsessed with the book."

"It was a good book!"

He shook his head. "So, we were all gonna go together, but then Stiles caught the flu and couldn't go."

"Right." Malia nodded. "And since Stiles was pretty much the only reason we interacted, I didn't think we'd go without him."

"It was the last week it was going to play at the theatre and I knew how much she loved the book, so I asked my mom to drive me out to her house to pick her up." He shrugged, tapping his fingers against his knee. "I wasn't sure she'd go for it. I actually thought she'd shut the door in my face."

"I thought about." Malia bit her lip. "But I really wanted to see that movie."

"So, we went. She didn't say a word to me. We got tickets, went to the concession, and nothing. But after the movie was over, she just looked at me and said—"

Malia smothered a smile. "'What'd you think?'"

"And I said it was funny."

Malia snorted. "And then he couldn't get me to shut up."

"You were excited." Scott nodded. "She told me everything she loved and hated and what was different in the book."

"We hung out at this ice cream shop across the street for like two hours talking about it. He asked to borrow the book after and when his mom brought me home, I ran inside and grabbed it for him."

"She made me promise not to lose it or damage it or anything." He crossed his fingers over his heart absently. "After that, we were friends."

"I got him his own copy for his birthday the next year."

"I still have it."

"Wow." Allison's voice jarred them, as if her being there had escaped them both.

Malia felt a sudden flood of discomfort. Had she said too much? Reacted too fondly? She sat up and shrugged. "We lucked out. I met Stiles and things just... worked out, I guess."

Allison nodded. "I wish I had that."

"I don't know, running over my dog and still befriending me after is a much crazier story."

She laughed, her smile wide. "True."

Malia stood from the bed then and said, "I'm gonna go to the bathroom. Down the hall to the left, right?"

Allison nodded. "Mm-hmm."

Leaving the room, Malia made her way to the bathroom, digging her phone out to text Stiles— 'how is he?'

It wasn't long before a barrage of texts blew up her phone.

—'not good.'

—'like really not good.'

—'he keeps passing out and mumbling in his sleep.'

—'he just said something about waffles!

—'maybe the infection's reached his brain'

Malia sighed. —'scott's been invited to dinner. two heads are better than one, right?'

—'hurry up, I'm not sure how much time he's got' he replied, quickly followed by— 'don't forget, the longer you're in there, the more time they have to figure things out'

A knock echoed against the door then and Malia reached for it. She frowned, surprised to see Scott on the other end. He glanced in both directions before ducking into the bathroom with her and closing the door at his back.

"They have a mini-armory in their garage," he told her. "All their guns and bullets are locked away. How are we supposed to look in there?"

"Maybe we won't have to." She pointed downward. "Kate shot him, right? Maybe she keeps the bullets closer than we think. The spare room is downstairs, off a hallway by the kitchen. If we can dig around in her stuff, we might find what we're looking for. "

"What if we can't?" His shoulders slumped. "Stiles keeps texting me that Derek is looking worse."

"Derek said he had a back-up plan if worse comes to worst, but honestly, I don't think we'll like it. One of us needs to go through Kate's things and see what they find."

"How? When? Allison is expecting us back in her room any second."

"Where does she think you are right now?"

He shrugged. "Getting something to drink."

"Okay, well, we can't do it now because at least on person is going to be in the kitchen cooking. But, at dinner, they'll all be at the table. So, one of us just needs to go to the bathroom and take a look around. That way, if anyone leaves the table, the other can text and warn them."

He nodded. "Okay. Yeah, that could work."

"Great. Now, get out, I actually have to pee." She shuffled him through the door. "And go get a drink or it'll look suspicious."

...

The light hanging above Derek's head seared his eyes. He turned away to avoid it, but his vision blurred. He could make out the vague shape of Stiles, standing against the wall, tapping at the screen of his phone. Aside from the animals in the back, Stiles was the only one in the clinic. Of the three of them, he would've preferred Malia. Stiles was fidgety, more sarcasm than strength. Scott was reluctant and rebellious, but strong. Malia though, she trusted him. She didn't want to, but he could tell she did. And despite himself, he trusted her, too. Logically, he knew having her at the clinic would be a comfort more than anything and that having her search for the bullet was a better idea. At least he could trust that she would stay focused on the end goal.

Exhaustion swamped him in waves. Memories of a time when he was young, when he had a family, were bittersweet. Even on his worst day, his siblings had been there to snark and joke and poke at him. It had annoyed him as a teenager. So many people and personalities and so little space. But he missed it now. Missed the crowd of voices echoing through the house, their padding feet, their questions and demands and expectations. The guilt of their deaths felt like a noose around his neck that never loosened. He wasn't sure how he would feel if it ever did. He deserved it.

Closing his eyes, he tried to breathe as a wave of pain spread up his arm. He was running out of time. If they didn't find the bullet soon, he would have to go to extreme lengths to survive this. After all, he was a Hale.

They didn't run. They fought. And they continued.

…

Derek sat in his car, parked outside of Columbia University, his hand squeezed tight around the steering wheel. "You can't be serious."

"Of course I'm serious." Laura sighed. "Something is going on and I need to find out what."

Derek shook his head. "We left Beacon Hills for a reason."

"Six years ago… A lot has changed. Whoever burned our house down is long gone."

"You don't know that." He ground his teeth together. "This isn't our problem. Beacon Hills isn't our home anymore."

"It's always going to be home," she said, her voice gentle in a way that reminded him far too much of their mother. "Look, I'm not telling you to leave New York. You have a life there and you're almost done your history degree. You know I'm proud of you. But, I have to do this."

"Why?"

"Because... Mom would want me to. This thing, whatever it is, is dangerous. I can feel it. I can't let the town suffer because I'm afraid of a few ghosts."

Closing his eyes, Derek took a moment. Worry made his stomach curdle. "If it really is dangerous, then you shouldn't be out there. Not alone."

"I'm the alpha, remember?" Her voice turned wry and stubborn. "This was our territory. We protected Beacon Hills, whether the town knew it or not. They won't know how to deal with it."

"Do you?"

"I'm figuring it out. I know it's a wolf and I know it's hunting. I just don't know what or why... But I will."

"Laur..." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know you want to do the right thing—"

"I'm just trying to be who our mother taught us to be. We protect, Derek, we don't run away. Not even when we really want to."

He stared at the dash of his car and shook his head. He could still hear the echo of his father's voice telling him that cowardice was just a way station, a slow march toward the death of one's integrity. He might as well lay down and let the worms have him.

"Look, the full moon is next week," Laura said. "It seems to be sticking to that schedule. I'll call you when I find anything out. I promise."

"Yeah." He nodded, his skin feeling too tight, a sure sign that he was doing the wrong thing. "Just... be safe."

"Is that genuine concern I'm hearing? What have you done with my grumpy little brother, huh?"

He rolled his eyes. "Call me. Every day. And if something happens or you don't think you can do it alone... I'll come down. All right?"

"All right. I will." Her voice was lighter then as she said, "Now get to class. You're not going to become a professor sitting in the parking lot."

He snorted. "Yeah, yeah."

…

Malia picked at her food—pan fried chicken, green beans, and rice. Better than anything she could've made for herself, that was for sure. Sitting directly across from her, Scott was looking squeamish as he sipped at his water.

"Would you like something else to drink besides water, Scott? Malia?" Victoria offered, looking between them.

"Oh, n-no, I'm good, thanks." He half-smiled and replaced his glass on the table.

"I'm fine," Malia agreed.

"Get you a beer?" Chris offered, raising his eyebrows as he stared at Scott.

Allison paused, her brow furrowed.

"N-no, thanks," Scott sputtered.

Chris waved his cutlery. "Shot of tequila?"

"Dad." Allison glared. "Really?"

Chris ignored her in favor of needling Scott a little more. "You don't drink, Scott?"

He laughed under his breath. "I'm not old enough to."

Victoria hummed. "That doesn't seem to stop many teenagers."

"Did you guys drink when you were our age?" Malia looked from Victoria to Chris. "That had to be, what, the 80's when you guys were teenagers...? Big hair, bigger cocaine problem."

Chris stared at her, surprised.

Kate laughed. "Oh, wow. She called you out, big brother."

"Speaking of drugs..." Chris waved his butter knife in Scott's direction. "Do you smoke pot?"

"Okay." Kate laughed. "Changing the channel to something a little less conservative..." Kate turned her attention on Scott. "From what Allison tells me, you're on the lacrosse team."

"Yeah. Uh, I just made first line this year."

Kate nodded. "Turns out I don't know anything about that. How do you play?"

"Um, well, you know hockey? It's a lot like that, only, um, played on grass instead of ice."

"Hockey on grass… is called field hockey," Chris corrected bluntly.

"Oh..." Scott's face fell. "Yeah."

Malia cleared her throat. "I know Allison was really into gymnastics and archery growing up, does she get that from one of you?" She looked from Victoria to Kate to Chris. "Or is she just one of those annoyingly talented people born with an unnatural ability to master high intensity sports?"

Chris and Kate glanced at each other.

"Target practice is my bread and butter," Kate said. "Maybe she got it from me."

"Do you still do it?"

"I try to, sure." Kate cocked her head, half-smiling. "What about you, Malia? What do you do?"

"Malia's in track," Scott said, sounding close to boastful. "She's the fastest one on the team."

"Is that right?"

Malia shrugged. "I like running. It's a good way to shut your head off."

"She was in gymnastics, too." Allison nodded. "We've been trying to pick it back up together."

Kate raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like you might have an unnatural ability yourself."

"Just not for skating." Malia speared a green bean with her fork and twirled it. "I'm terrible at it."

Allison snorted. "Hardly. You got the hang of it, eventually."

Scott grinned. "Malia's always been like that. She adapts to everything."

Kate looked from Scott to Malia. "You two are close?"

Malia nodded. "Yeah, best friends since we were ten."

"Really? How'd you two meet?"

"A mutual friend— Stiles." Malia smiled across the table. "It's all history after that."

"Have you ever dated?" Kate wondered bluntly.

Scott choked on his water and knocked a fist against his chest to try and catch his breath.

"Kate!" Allison protested.

"What? It's an honest question." Kate looked more amused than anything. "You know the old saying, boys and girls can't just be friends."

Malia hummed. "Which is outdated, misogynistic, and heteronormative."

"Heteronormative... big word. Is that your way of saying you like girls?"

Malia imagined Kate was the type of person that brought up topics specifically to get people to squirm. She enjoyed being unexpected and reveled in the discomfort of her audience. But Malia wasn't a fan of squirming. "I think sexuality is fluid. I've never had romantic feelings for girls, but I don't know. That might not always be true."

Victoria cleared her throat. "I'm not sure this is proper conversation for dinner."

Kate raised an eyebrow, keeping her gaze centered on Malia. "I don't know, I find it fascinating."

Malia refused to blink. "To answer your question though, no. Scott and I have never dated. Neither have me and Stiles or Scott and Stiles. We're friends."

"Have you ever wanted to?"

Malia pulled a face. "Stiles is like my brother."

"And Scott?"

She glanced at him over the table, staring back at her. His face was flushed from coughing and his brow was furrowed tightly.

Just as she opened her mouth to lie, because obviously she wasn't going to start sharing personal truths with these people, especially in front of Scott and his girlfriend—

"The sticks have nets!" Scott blurted out, drawing Kate's attention to him.

"What?"

"Uh, the sticks, in lacrosse, they have nets. That's what makes it different from field hockey."

Kate stared at him a beat, seeming to hesitate in allowing him to change the subject. Eventually, she asked, "Can you slap-check like in hockey?"

"Um, yeah."

Malia felt her phone buzz in her pocket just as Scott's dinged with a text.

Digging his out, he dropped his gaze to it, hidden under the table, saying distractedly, "But it's only the, uh, the gloves and the sticks."

"Sounds violent," Kate praised. "I like it."

"Scott's amazing, too." Allison turned to Chris. "Dad came with me to the first game. Wasn't he good?"

"He was fine."

Allison's eyes narrowed. "He scored the last shot, the winning shot."

"True, but he didn't score at all until the last few minutes."

Malia clenched her teeth. "From where I was sitting, it was a little hard for Scott to score any earlier in the game since Jackson was clearly telling the rest of the team not to pass to him."

Chris turned to look at her, his brow furrowed. "I didn't notice anything like that."

"You were there, too?" Kate asked. "Big lacrosse fan?"

"No, not really. But since two of my friends play, I watch sometimes. I sat with Scott's mom. She was pretty proud of his winning shot, too."

"And what about your mom? Was she there?"

Malia went still, her heart beating a little too quick for comfort. Her throat tightened and her tongue felt weighed down.

Allison's eyes widened and her hand flexed against her fork. "Um, dinner's really good tonight. Who cooked?"

"Your father." Victoria smoothed her napkin out in her lap. "It sounds like these lacrosse games are a real family event. Maybe if I come to the next game I'll get a chance to meet your parents. What do yours do, Malia?"

She swallowed tightly and untangled her tongue. "My dad is a factory foreman in Fontana. He commutes back and forth."

"And your mother?"

"Is dead."

The table went quiet— cutlery stopped moving and Victoria very slowly turned to look at her. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to-"

Discomfort filled her up from the toes. "It was a long time ago."

"Can I ask how it happened?"

"No." The response, surprisingly, did not come from Malia, but rather Scott. And his tone was sharp.

Malia shifted in her seat, glancing at him over the table. "It's fine."

"It's not." A muscle ticked in his cheek. "No offense," he told the Argents, "but that's really personal."

"He's right," Kate agreed. "We shouldn't be digging up your family trauma."

"You should come, mom. To the game, I mean," Allison said, trying to change the subject back to lighter topics. "It was a lot more action packed than I thought. Scott's last shot actually ripped a hole through the goalie's net. It was pretty incredible."

Chris cleared his throat. "Well, I think the goalie was probably playing with a defective stick, so—"

Malia rolled her eyes.

Kate noticed. "You disagree, Malia?"

"Scott practiced all summer and winter break to make it onto first line. They don't hand those spots out unless you prove yourself. He has." She shrugged. "I just like giving credit where it's due."

Malia felt a nudge against her foot; she knew it was Scott trying to comfort or reassure or maybe just to remind her not to lash out too much. They were supposed to be guests after all, constantly snapping at Chris wouldn't help. She bit the inside of her cheek and focused on her food once more. Her appetite, however, was lost.

"On second thought..." Scott said. "Um, I think I'll that shot of Tequila."

Chris raised his head to stare at him.

Kate choked out a laugh that she tried to hide in her hand.

The rest of the table followed, effectively breaking any leftover tension.

Even Chris smiled, picking up his glass of wine and pointing at Scott as he said, "You were kidding, right?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah."

...

At the tail end of dinner, time had nearly run out. Malia looked up at Scott, her brows hiked. He gave a small nod and then cleared his throat. "Uh, can I be excused? I need to use the bathroom."

Victoria nodded, dabbing at her mouth with her napkin. "Sure, our main floor bathroom is under construction. There's one upstairs—"

"It's fine, he can use the one in the spare bedroom. It's closer." Kate motioned with her chin. "It's down the hall from the kitchen. You want me to show you?"

"No, it's fine. I can find it." He glanced at Malia and then stood from the table.

Malia dug her phone out of her pocket, ready to warn him. She noticed Kate's gaze was still following Scott, her lips curled in a faint smirk, and felt a wave of unease fill her stomach.

"So, Malia..." Kate turned sharp eyes on her. "What do you do for fun around here? When I was younger, Beacon Hills wasn't exactly a hotspot for fun."

"You mean when I'm not attending drug fueled raves or ritualistic sacrifices?" She shrugged. "I knit."

A full grin formed on Kate's mouth. "You were right, honey." She looked at Allison. "I like her."

Allison beamed. "I knew you would." She turned a fond look on Malia. "Did I tell you how we became friends? It's kind of a crazy story..."

"And not a cheap one, either," Chris added.

Kate raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

"I'd seen Malia at school, in passing. We have an English class together, but we'd never talked. And I was driving through town— it was late and raining like crazy. I took my eyes off the road for a second to change the song on my iPod and—"

"Ran my dog over," Malia finished.

"No." Kate's eyes widened. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. Broke her leg, actually."

"And you still wanted to be friends with her?" Kate motioned to Allison. "No offense, you know I love you, but not everybody would get over something like that."

Malia shrugged. "It was fine. She drove me and Shiloh to the vet clinic."

Allison nodded, smiling. "The same one Scott works at, actually."

"Yeah. He put a stint on Shiloh and a few apologies later and me and Allison are friends."

Allison scrunched her nose up. "I felt so bad. I really thought she'd hate me, but she didn't."

Malia shrugged. "You didn't do it on purpose and Shiloh's going to be fine."

"So, when Scott's not kicking ass at lacrosse, he's saving injured animals?" Kate nodded slowly. "Sounds like you find a keeper."

Half-smiling, Allison reached up to tuck her hair behind her ears. "Scott's great."

Speaking of Scott, he appeared back at the table then, staring at Malia before he tapped his jean pocket tellingly.

Relieved, she tucked her phone away once more.

"Uh, I don't mean to eat and run, but..." Scott nodded. "I should really get going. Um, thanks for dinner."

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no." Kate rested an elbow on the table and rubbed her thumb along her chin, staring at Scott expectantly. "You have to stay for dessert. I wanna know more about you. Sit down."

Scott hesitated for a moment before eventually muttering, "Okay," and retaking his seat.

Victoria shifted in her seat to face him better. "Allison and Malia were just telling us that you work for a veterinarian."

"We told them how we met and that you put a cast on Shiloh," Allison explained.

"Yeah." A ping sounded and Malia felt a buzz against her hip. Scott looked down, pulling his phone out to read whatever Stiles had texted.

"What does your boss think of the animal attacks?" Chris asked, causing Scott to look up abruptly. "Any theories?"

"Uh, everyone was just saying it was a mountain lion…"

Kate let out a scoffing laugh. "It'd have to be a pretty large mountain lion."

Chris rolled the stem of his wine glass between his fingers and turned to look at Malia. "Your dad hunts, doesn't he, Malia? Has he seen any mountain lions that could be to blame?"

Malia paused. A tremble of warning ran down her back. Malia raised her chin as she said, "The animals in the preserve are smart; they tend to avoid people."

He nodded. "Even better reason for them not to be attacking townspeople."

Victoria smiled, but there was nothing friendly about it. "What do you think, Scott?"

"I don't know. We usually get cats and dogs at the vet. Nothing that vicious."

"Never had to deal with a rabid dog?" Chris wondered.

Scott shook his head.

"Oh. I grew up with a lot of dogs."

Kate pursed her lips, casting her eyes upward, and took a long drag of her wine.

"I saw one get rabies from a bat. It was transferred through the bite. You know, people think that a rabid dog just suddenly goes mad. It's a lot more gradual..." Chris turned his entire attention on Scott, his voice deep and rocky. "First stage is subtle changes in behaviour— they're restless, morose. It's the second stage that people know—the furious phase. That's when they attack. And we're talking any moving object."

Scott's brow furrowed, coming down heavy over his eyes. Malia could see he was clenching his jaw, his shoulders tensed. She reached her foot out and hooked it behind his ankle, tapping her toes against the back of his calf.

"Did you know that a caged rabid dog will break its own teeth trying to chew through the bars? It'll even rear back and snap its own spine. Can you imagine the amount of force it would take to do that?" Chris' gaze fell thoughtfully to the table. "It's a complete character reversal. This harmless animal— turned into a perfectly vicious killer. And it all started with one bite."

Scott looked down a moment, swallowing tightly, before his gaze rose up and met Malia's across the table.

She couldn't be sure— though a part of her was naturally suspicious— if Chris Argent was purposely saying all of this on the off chance that he believed Scott was a werewolf. Or maybe he was using it as some kind of strange intimidation tactic. Either way, Malia felt motivated to get Scott out of the house. Immediately.

Allison looked unimpressed by her father's story, her brows raised. "But it died, didn't it?"

"Yes." Victoria turned a severe look on her daughter. "Because your grandfather shot it."

"Because he wanted to put it out of its misery."

Innocent, Malia thought. Whatever murderous instinct had infected the rest of the Argents, it hadn't reached Allison. Not yet.

"Because it was too dangerous," Chris corrected. He turned his attention back to Scott. "Something that out of control is better off dead."

…

At the clinic, Derek stood next to the surgical table, having stripped off his shirt. Black ropes of infection lined the veins of his arms and blood dripped steadily down his forearm. He panted, swaying a little, as he tried to focus.

Stiles stood on the other side of the table. "You know, that really doesn't look like anything some echinacea and a good night of sleep couldn't take care of."

"When the infected reaches my heart… it'll kill me." Derek stumbled away from the table to start searching through the cupboards and drawers.

"'Positivity' just isn't in your vocabulary, is it?" Stiles shook his head, mouth folded irritably.

"If they don't get here with the bullets in time—" He pulled open a drawer and reached in side. "—last resort."

Stiles' brows hiked. "Which is?"

Derek pulled a surgical saw out and showed it to him. "You're gonna cut off my arm."

Stiles' mouth fell open and his eyes widened in shock. For once, he was at a loss for words.

...

Malia and Scott lingered by the front door as Allison dug around in her room for Scott's bag.

Malia took a quick glance around to make sure no one was in hearing range, before she leaned toward him. "Well?"

"I found it." He nodded. "It was in Kate's bag, inside a box that had 'Northern Blue Monkshood' written on it in French."

"Since when do you know French?"

"I don't, I used an app to translate it." He shrugged. "I sent it to Stiles. Derek says I have to bring him the bullet."

"Okay, then we need to get the hell out of here and over to the clinic."

Allison came bouncing down the stairs then, Scott's bag in hand.

They turned to face her, smiling.

Sighing, Allison shook her head. "I'm so incredibly sorry."

He took the bag and pulled in on. "For what?"

She walked to the door and then leaned against it, clasping one hand around the other wrist. "For that being the worst, most horribly awkward dinner ever in the history of horribly awkward dinners."

"No. Uh, it wasn't the worst." Scott shook his head. "There was this one dinner where my parents told me they were getting a divorce. This comes in at a close second."

Malia snorted. "There was also that time your mom invited me and Stiles over for dinner and then started talking about puberty while we were eating, so we had nowhere to run. We just had to sit there and pretend not to hear words like 'pubic hair' and 'wet dreams.'"

Scott shuddered. "Every time I think I've completely erased that day from my mind, you find a way to bring it up."

"If I have to be mentally scarred, so do you." She knocked her shoulder against his and then turned to Allison. "Anyway, your entire family is dramatically intimidating. They should work on that."

Allison laughed lightly. "I'll let them know."

"We're still on for Sunday? Finally get this essay done and out of the way."

Nodding, Allison pushed off the door and stepped aside. "Yep!"

"Great. I'll text you later." Malia pulled the door open then, but when it was halfway open, Kate cut across the foyer toward them.

"Wait a second, guys."

Malia winced and turned back around. Seriously? Could they not wrap this awkward dinner up already?

Allison stared at her aunt, confused. "What is it?"

Kate came to a stop in front of them. "Uhhh... I have to ask Scott something."

He shook his head slowly. "Me?"

"Yeah." She reached past them to push the door closed. "You."

Malia felt a leaden weight fill her stomach.

Scott's brow furrowed. "Okay…"

Kate hooked her hands on her hips and smiled sharply. "What'd you take from my bag?"

Allison's brows hiked as she looked from Kate to Scott.

Scott stared, mouth ajar. "What?"

"My bag. What'd you take from it?"

Scott turned to Malia, at a loss for words.

She shook her head faintly.

"Do you need me to repeat the question?" Kate asked, her tone snide now. "Maybe enunciate more clearly?"

Chris joined them then, coming to a stop next to his sister. "What are you talking about?"

"My bag was open in the guest room, and when I left it was shut." Kate motioned to Scott. "Scott comes in to use the bathroom, he leaves, my bag's open."

Allison frowned. "This is ridiculous. He didn't take anything."

"Something was taken from my bag. Now look— I hate to be the accuser here, Scott, because I really do love those adorable brown eyes, but I don't know if you're a klepto, if you're curious, or—" She laughed mockingly. "Or if you're just stupid. But answer the question. What did you take?"

"Nothing." Malia stepped forward and in front of Scott, crossing her arms over her chest. "Scott isn't any of those things. Maybe you're just remembering it wrong."

Kate's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

"You could've gone back in and opened it at any point and just forgotten." She shrugged. "You don't even know if something was stolen, you just think it was because a zipper is open." Malia felt Scott's hand against her back and wondered if he was going to get the hint she was trying to give him. "Scott?"

He stepped closer to her, his chest brushing her back. "Yeah?"

She locked eyes with Kate. "Tell them you didn't steal anything."

"I— I'm really sorry that you think something's missing, but I didn't take anything."

Malia felt something heavy and narrow slide into the back pocket of her jeans.

A slow smile spread across Kate's face. "If he didn't take anything, he won't mind proving it."

"Are you serious?" Allison demanded.

Kate ignored her. "How about you show us what's in your pockets?"

"Dad?"

Chris gave her a quelling look.

"Come on, Scott," Kate needled. "Prove me wrong."

"Fine." Scott stepped out from behind Malia to stand next to her. He dug his hands into his jean pockets and pulled them out, showing that he had nothing but some lint, a gum wrapper, and some spare change. He showed them his hoodie pockets, too, but there was nothing but his house keys there. "Did you want to look through my bag, too?" He shrugged it off his shoulders and held it out.

Kate looked surprised and turned a frown on her brother, who shrugged back at her.

"Maybe she's right, maybe you just forgot."

Unconvinced, Kate reached for the bag.

"Kate," Allison said, her voice strained. "I can't believe this. I can't believe you."

"Allison, this isn't personal."

"Open it," Malia told her.

Kate's eyes darted to Malia and narrowed.

Malia was unmoved. "You're sure, right? That you didn't go back into your room, didn't dig around in your bag, that the zipper was always done?"

Kate stared at her. "I have a pretty good memory, yeah."

"Then open the bag."

A beat of hesitation passed before Kate did exactly that. She opened the bag, pulling out a sweater, a couple binders, a book, and a pencil case. But nothing suspect, nothing that could pass for Kate's.

"Are you done?" Malia tilted her chin. "Or did you wanna call the Sheriff and have Scott brought in on suspicion of using the guest bathroom?"

Kate let out a laugh. "You might be a little too much like me, kid."

Malia held her hand out for the bag, which Kate relented to her, and passed it back to Scott. "We really should go. Thanks for dinner." Turning on her heel, she pulled the door open and stepped outside. She waited for Scott to step through it first and followed him out.

Allison was hot on their heels.

"Malia..."

Allison's voice was strained and worried.

Malia winced. After all, Scott had stolen from Kate, but Allison didn't know that. She thought her family had just been incredibly rude to her boyfriend and her friend. From Allison's point of view, this had to be incredibly embarrassing.

Schooling her face, Malia turned around to face Allison.

Allison chewed her lip, her cheeks flushed. She looked back and forth from Malia to Scott. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine." Malia shook her head. "Why don't we hang out at my place on Sunday though?" She cast a look back into the house, where Chris and Kate were talking in hushed whispers.

Allison nodded eagerly. "Yeah, sure, of course."

Malia backed up then, leaving Scott and Allison to say their goodbyes. She made her way to Scott's abandoned bike, laying in the grass, and kept her back to the couple. It wasn't until she heard the door closed that she turned back around.

Scott walked toward her, glancing back over his shoulder. "That was close."

"Yeah. Really close." She could still feel the bullet tucked safely in the back pocket of her jeans. Reaching down, she grabbed his bike up and passed it to him. "Come on. We're running out of time."

Scott walked his bike down the hill to the road. "Hey... Why'd you tell them the animals in the preserve avoided people? Shouldn't we try to convince them it really was a cougar?"

Malia shook her head. "I live near the preserve and my dad hunts. It's not completely crazy that a single cougar lost it and attacked someone, but if I made it sound like it was normal, they'd get suspicious."

Scott nodded slowly. "That makes sense, yeah." He took a seat on his bike then, holding it steady as Malia hopped onto the pegs on his back tire. "Ready?"

She wrapped her hands over his shoulders and squeezed lightly. "Yeah. Let's go save a werewolf."

tbc

author's note: if you haven't noticed, this chapter is incredibly long. it seriously ballooned, and i thought about splitting it up, but i decided against it. if this is too much, please let me know and i'll try to keep chapters under a certain worth length for easier reading. i just really wanted to get through the dinner itself, since i felt like that was where a lot of the intensity was coming from. i hope you liked everything! i wrote a lot more of the hale family than i expected. if you haven't seen it yet, there is a character page on my tumblr (sarcasticfina) for the hale family. just visit my url and add /hales to the end to see it. :)

i originally had derek interacting with malia more about his family, but a lot of that was moved to the next chapter, so keep an eye out for that. i know he doesn't originally pass out in the canon, but i'm taking creative license with that, because i feel like it, and it was a good narrative tool to visit his family.

i mentioned in the last chapter that allison would get to see more of the malia/scott dynamic and i hope this covers that. it gets revisited again soon, but i thought this was a good vehicle for the argents in general to see how malia and scott interact and protect each other. we get to see a bit of the history between scott and malia when they were kids, told through them, and then we get to see how malia defends scott against chris' obviously targeted focus on belittling scott and his achievements and again when kate was demanding to see what was in scott's pockets.

i also changed the whole 'allison stole a condom from kate's bag' scene because, at this point, allison is in a different place with scott. she's talked to malia about the situation and she plans to talk to scott about expectations. but more than that, as a few people have noticed, both scott and allison aren't quite as invested in each other as they were in the show. they do like each other, but they are nowhere near in love with each other.

things to look forward to next chapter: injured/healing derek; malia and derek banter; a video store; an attack; worried!scott. ;)

thanks so much for reading, please try to leave a review!
- Lee | Fina