Oh my God, I'm back! It's been way too long, but I'm back. And this time, with a completely new chapter, not a rewrite! (In the immortal words of one Stiles Stilinski, "Believe it or not, that's progress.")
Now, first things first - yes, I saw *gag* Teen Wolf: The Movie. I was not impressed. For many, many reasons. But that's okay, because guess what? Even if I decide to end this whole fic with the movie, I'm gonna veer away from canon. Alright? I just, I can't do it. Eugh.
Anyways, I hope you enjoy. It's an extra long chapter, too, so please forgive me for completely ignoring this whole story. I'm forewarning you that this chapter isn't going to end on a happy note, BUT there are many cute Derek/Patricia moments, and even more to come.
As always, I only take credit for my OC. The rest is (unfortunately) Jeff Davis's.
My brow's damp with sweat, my hands aching as they clench the steering wheel. I'm too tense and high off of adrenaline to take a calming breath. I can almost feel the pavement vibrating underneath us, and it doesn't surprise me that my mind is latching onto scenes from the Fast and Furious series.
"Can't you drive any faster?" Stiles yells in my ear, panicking as the hunter in the car behind us starts to catch up. I look at the speedometer and nod.
"Yeah. But if we crash, I'm letting Derek kill the both of you."
"You're the one driving his car!" Stiles shouts, still panicking.
I smirk and speed down the road, past the abandoned buildings in the warehouse district of Beacon Hills. "Yeah, but he doesn't hate me."
"Just drive!" Scott yells. I speed up, unable to help the rush of excitement that floods me when I see just how fast I'm going. The Camaro drives like a dream, but I find myself missing my Impala.
And you know, not being in a high speed chase with Kate Argent. Which I currently am, because this is now my life. I've never raced before, and the fact the stakes are even higher right now is making it hard for me not to slip into a panic attack.
"Hey, Patricia, I don't think you're grasping the concept of a car chase, here." Stiles tells me. I just glower at the dark road ahead and tighten my hands on the steering wheel, nearly splitting the skin over my knuckles.
"If I go any faster, we die. And then Derek's on his own. So shut up and let me drive."
"If you don't go faster, she's gonna kill us!" He yells, and I swiftly turn us, drifting a bit before we straighten. I rev the engine a little more, definitely going beyond breaking the speed limit now.
"Pat, she's gone." Scott tells me, and I slow down to 95 miles, looking up at them through the rearview mirror.
"Crap. Stiles?" I ask, and my best friend nods, turning on his walkie talkie, pre-set to the police radio.
"All units, suspect is on foot heading into the iron works." We hear the Sheriff announce, and I quickly make a u-turn, heading in the right direction. Dad had me practice driving in the warehouse district, so I know most of the buildings pretty well. Plus, it's easy to find a place when the entire Sheriff's Department is acting like a beacon.
I rev through the open entryway, stopping next to Derek. Stiles leans forward to open the passenger seat door. "Get in!" He calls, and Derek practically jumps into his seat. I yelp when someone shoots at us with an automatic weapon, which is way overkill. Hunters, man. Without waiting for him to buckle his seatbelt I drive straight through the other side of the iron works, turning a corner to evade the cops. The car is silent until I reach the road heading towards the preserve, where our cars are stashed.
"What part of laying low don't you understand?" Scott finally shouts, making me jump at the volume and shoot him a dirty look from the mirror.
"Damn it, I had him!" Derek yells back, frustratedly hitting his dashboard.
"Who, the alpha?" Stiles asks, leaning forward.
"Yes! He was right in front of me, and the friggin' police showed up!"
Stiles makes an offended noise. "Oh, hey, they're just doing their jobs… uh, yeah…" He notices that Derek and I are both giving him a disbelieving look.
"Yeah. Thanks to the two idiots who decided to make me the most wanted fugitive in the entire state!"
"Can we seriously get past that?" Scott pleads. "We made a dumbass mistake, we get it!"
"Alright!" Stiles shouts, breaking the argument. For now. It's been a common theme, not that I haven't backed Derek up more than once. "How did you find him?" Stiles asks Derek, who just shakes his head.
"Can you just try to trust us for at least half a second?" Scott asks.
"Yeah, both of us." Stiles adds, only for Derek to silence him with a glare. "Or just him. I'll be back here."
"She's the only one I trust." He points to me, and I smile to myself. "Not you two."
Despite my happiness at his admission, I quickly look at him with a pleading expression. "Derek, please. They're my best friends, and I trust them. Even though they're idiots." The troublemakers in the back try to snark back, but I hold up a hand, effectively silencing them.
After a moment of pouting, Derek sighs and nods. "Look, the last time I talked to my sister, she was close to figuring something out." I make another turn, keeping an eye out for any cars. Nothing so far. "She found two things. The first was a guy named Harris."
I nearly stop the car. "Like Adrian Harris?"
"Our chemistry teacher?" Stiles asks.
Derek nods. "Why him?" Scott questions.
"I don't know yet."
"And the second?" I calmly ask.
Derek nods and searches the pockets of his leather jacket, plucking out a folded piece of paper. He opens it and shows it to us. "Some kind of symbol." My blood freezes and I immediately pull over to look down at the drawing, ignoring the others' as they question me and grab it from him.
I know what it is. And I'm not the only one.
"Scott." I eye the younger of the two werewolves in the rearview mirror. "Is this what I think it is?"
"You've seen this before?" Derek asks as I drive back onto the road, teeth clenched.
Scott groans. "Yes. I've seen it... on a necklace. Allison's necklace."
I feel eyes on me but I keep driving until we reach the farthest point of the road into the woods. "Scott, Derek, do you guys smell anything that shouldn't be here?"
"We're good." The latter tells me, and I pull into the Preserve. If the car gets towed, well, there isn't much we can do about it.
We all get out and I lock the door, tossing the keys to Derek. He catches it with one hand, the other running over the Camaro to make sure it's in one piece, bullet scratches aside.
"Scott, Stiles, get home safe. We'll figure out how to get the necklace tomorrow. But we need to get it, guys. Especially if it means we can use it to find the alpha." I tell my best friends, and they nod while pulling me into a hug.
"Be careful, Watson." Stiles looks over my shoulder at Derek. "If she gets hurt in any way, I will kill you. Okay? You'll be 100% totally dead. I'll do what the alpha couldn't, you hear me?"
Derek is definitely rolling his eyes, but he keeps his mouth shut. Scott glares at him warningly, too, but again looks too much like a puppy with his floppy hair to actually do any damage. I watch them walk towards Stiles's Jeep and sigh, rubbing under my eyes.
"You okay?" Derek asks me.
"I should be asking you that." I mutter, rolling my neck. Moments later a tentative hand reaches out to press against the small of my back, and I turn to stare up at Derek, the moonlight shining down on us. "You didn't get hit, right?"
"No." He shakes his head. "One of the hunters managed to set off an ultrasonic emitter near my head, but it only disoriented me for a few seconds." I frown. "It's a really aggressive strobe light, sound effects included."
Despite the events of the night, my lips twitch in amusement at his description. I let my eyes flick over him, hands soon joining to check for any injuries. "But you're okay?"
"I'm fine, princess." The nickname slips out as he stills my hands. I can feel my eyes widening, though, and Derek looks down, rubbing the back of his head with his free hand. "I, uh, I mean -"
"It's fine. Just don't go saying that around Scott and Stiles. I have a reputation to maintain."
"As what?" He snorts, and I turn to start walking to my Impala, my footsteps louder and less careful than my companion's. "The nice girl?"
"I'm not nice. You take that back." I turn to mock growl at him, and he throws his hands up in surrender. "I happen to be-" I yelp and trip back over a log, only for Derek to leap forward and wrap his arms around my waist, pulling me up and nearly into his chest.
"You okay?" He asks, looking down at me. I tilt my head back to stare into his green eyes, trying to keep my heart rate normal.
"Y-yeah. Sorry."
"Be careful. If you get hurt, your parents are going to kick me out and shoot me full of wolfsbane."
"Please, they wouldn't dare. They're still trying to make up for the whole 'we took your memories to keep you safe, sorry kid' incident." I put my hands on his biceps as he hasn't released me yet. "And I would never let them do that. Okay, maybe one bullet to the shoulder, but I'd help you heal. Eventually."
"My hero." He drawls out, letting me go. We continue walking back to my car, not another soul in sight. Once inside the Impala I start the engine and peel out, riding with Derek in silence. But a few moments later, he sighs.
"What?" I ask, looking at him as I roll to a stop at the traffic light. "Something wrong?"
"No." He shakes his head before reaching out to entwine our hands over the gear shift. "I was just remembering something. From, uh, before."
"Oh." I clear my throat, trying to push down the sadness. "What was it?"
"Patricia -"
"Please, Der." I plead. "As much as it hurts that I can't remember, I want to know. I'm tired of not knowing."
He squeezes my hand. "Okay." He clears his throat, and I latch onto every word as he begins his story. "When I was just starting high school, I was this cocky little shit. I made the varsity basketball team Freshman year -"
"Ah. So you were basically just a hotter Jackson Whittemore."
"Yeah, I don't know what that means." Derek and I both laugh before he continues. "Well, I drove everyone at home crazy. I think my mom nearly helped your great-grandma throw me in the basement every other day. Laura," he smiles sadly, "finally got sick of everyone just letting me act like - in her words - 'a prepubescent brat.' She got you and Cora to cover my favorite basketball in paint and glitter, and brought it to the roof. As soon as I saw what happened, I climbed the house to get to her. When I was close enough, Laura threw the basketball at my head. I definitely wasn't expecting it, so I just fell." I gasp, staring over at Derek with wide, worried eyes. He grins, showing off his bunny teeth. "Yeah. None of the adults were home, or Laura would've been beyond grounded. Anyway," he pauses as I turn onto another road, "you, Cora, Laura, and my other two siblings Naomi and Max ran out to check on me. They all started cracking up when they saw I landed in Diane's rose bushes. I had flowers all over me, and there was glitter and paint on my face because the basketball hadn't dried yet. I was healing, but my arm and legs were completely broken."
"Jesus Christ."
"Nah, that's nothing. Laura once ran face-first into a tree on a full moon. It took two weeks for all her teeth to grow back." I wince, and he laughs. "It's okay. She got the squirrel, in the end." I crack up, pulling over to catch my breath, turning off the engine. When I've calmed down enough, Derek squeezes my hand to get my attention. I gaze back over at him, still a little breathless. "You laughed at me for a few minutes, and then the next thing I knew you were crying. Very dramatically." He smirks as he catches me trying to hide my blush.
"Yeah, well, it was probably disgusting to look at."
Derek snorts. "Nah, you handled seeing our injuries better than most humans. When Laura tried to comfort you, you screamed your head off about how I could've died, and that she was a terrible sister, nevermind the fact you were pissed off at me just a half hour earlier for purposefully throwing my basketball at your dollhouse." He nods at my confounded expression. "Yeah, you had a dollhouse. It was huge, and annoying, and the dolls were creepy, bright eyes." He shudders and I let out a little laugh. He squeezes my hand once more. "And then you yelled at Cora and my other two younger siblings - they were human, too - before you helped me out of the rose bush and guilted Laura into carrying me into the house. While the others tried to fix your great-grandma's garden, you forced me to sit on the couch."
"Please tell me -"
"That you didn't play doctor? Yeah, you did." I groan. "No, it was cute. You tried. I'm not totally sure why you insisted on putting bandaids over my broken limbs instead of gauze, but I got a lollipop and extra attention, so I didn't really question it." Derek smiles. "I don't care how much it embarrasses you, that's one of my favorite memories."
It takes a while for my heart to stop trying to thump out of my chest, and for the heat in my face to die down. Eventually, I'm able to clear my throat. "See." I smile up at him. "I'm a nice girl."
"You helped Laura." He reminds me, laughing as I pout. I slap his arm in retaliation, eyebrows furrowed when he catches my wrist.
"Derek?"
"The last time I saw you, you were thirteen and already planning out where you'd be going to college. You weren't even in high school yet, but you knew what you wanted to do. You had to do this research project for history class. 'Creating a Family Tree.' It was a big one, due at the end of the year. Cora was putting it off the minute it was assigned, but you had me take you to the library everyday, until I… until I got too busy." He trails off guiltily, green eyes getting a faraway look. "You wouldn't show us anything, either. You were worried it'd upset your great-grandmother, especially since she hated talking about her past, and you didn't want anyone mentioning anything in front of her."
"I remember that assignment." Derek blinks over at me, and I frown. "I wrote it on my mom's family, though."
He nods. "Yeah. Makes sense. The fire happened a couple of weeks after your thirteenth birthday. The decorations were still up. Diane just kept insisting it was an important event, and my mom didn't want to upset the woman who helped raise her."
"Dad said I'm a lot like her. Great-grandma Diane." I specify.
Derek laughs, his smile less sad. "Yeah. You are. You both tend to get your way."
"Not always." I murmur. "If I had my way -"
"I know." He nods and kisses my knuckles. "But like I said the other day, we'll make new memories. Ones I'll never let you forget."
"Thank you." I struggle to lean forward, huffing irritably as I unbuckle my seatbelt and wrap my arms around his neck, burrowing my face in his throat. "Don't leave me again."
"That's not possible." He whispers back, and I pull away so our eyes meet. His hands shakily cup my face, thumbs stroking my cheek. "Is this okay?"
I nod, voice barely audible. "Yes."
"And this?" He moves forward slowly, our lips nearly touching.
I struggle to keep my eyes open. "Just kiss me, Der."
Even though I know it's coming, I still gasp as his lips press against mine, somehow both hungrily, yet gently. It's passionate, but not rushed. I nip his bottom lip and he retaliates in kind, but neither one of our gestures is rough enough to draw blood. It only makes my heart rate skyrocket, and all too soon I have to pull back. Derek smiles as he watches me catch my breath, and presses a kiss to the tip of my nose. I scrunch my face in response, and he just looks at me as he tugs on the tips of my curly hair.
"That… that was… I mean, I…" I fumble with my words, and he just nods.
"Yeah, it was." He clears his throat and looks away, but his hand is still holding mine. "We should get you back. You have school tomorrow."
I nod. "Yeah. Let-let's go."
His hand stays wrapped in mine the rest of the drive home.
I wake up to the sound of birds chirping and a blinding light pouring in from my window. Groaning loudly at the fact I forgot to close my blinds, I roll away from the sunshine and grab my phone. I grumble again when I realize I woke up a good thirty minutes before my alarm. That annoyance fades when the night before comes to mind, and I giggle quietly as I touch my lips, the ghost of Derek's kiss lingering.
By the time we got home last night, my mom and the twins were already asleep. Dad was presumably still out, acting like he wasn't helping to protect Beacon's Most Wanted. I'd been half asleep myself, and if it wasn't for Derek practically carrying me upstairs and into my room, I would have just crashed on the couch. The last thing I remember is him kissing my cheek before leaving for his own room, closing the door on his way out.
With one last stretch and moan, I crawl out of bed, scratching my head as I stand. It doesn't hit me until I've gotten dressed and brushed my teeth that the house is quiet. Too quiet. I pad out of my room barefoot and down the hall, frowning at the hastily scrawled note taped to the guest room - Derek's - door.
Bright eyes,
Had a few errands to run. Your parents left early, and the twins are going on their field trip. Sorry I'm not there to give you a good morning kiss.
See you after school,
Derek
I pout but delicately remove the note from the door. Carefully tearing off the strip of tape that held it up, I fold the letter and tuck it into my wallet as soon as I'm back in my room. Feeling significantly less excited than when I woke up, I go through the motions of finishing getting ready for school. I'm fully prepared to make myself a nice, big breakfast and park myself in front of the TV until it's time for class, but the sketch of Allison's necklace enters my mind, putting a quick end to that fantasy. I reach over for an apple instead, my attention focused on how to get the necklace from Allison without arousing suspicion.
I'm just grabbing my car keys when someone knocks on the door - pounds - before ringing the doorbell an insane amount of times. Knowing the M.O. immediately, I open the door with an eye roll, biting dramatically into my apple as Stiles slowly lowers his hand.
"Dude, what took you so long? Your parents left almost an hour ago! We've barely got fifteen before first period!" Stiles complains. He winces when I smile a little too pleasantly.
"No, Stiles. You barely have fifteen minutes before school starts. I have at least two hours."
He rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Not the point. Drop your keys -" he huffs when I let them fall to the ground, "cute. I'm driving you to school. Come on, we need to talk about the necklace, and you know Scott's not gonna have any ideas."
"That's a little rude."
"He's our Lestrade for a reason. Come on, let's go!" Stiles claps his hands. I roll my eyes and crouch down to collect my keys. As soon as they're dropped back in their bowl, I shut off the lights and usher Stiles away from the front door. He almost drags me away before I can finish locking up, relenting when I kick at his shin in frustration.
If this is who the twins become when they're our age, I'm leaving the goddamn country.
The moment we settle in the Jeep and are on our way, Stiles gets brainstorming. As we whizz past the trees, my mind drifts to last night, when Derek was next to me. When I learned a little more about our shared past, when he looked at me in a way no one else really ever has, like he can see all of me, and all of me is what he wants -
"Seriously? Hello, did you hear anything I just said?" I jolt as Stiles shoves my shoulder, glowering at the younger teen. I frown when I realize we're pulling into the school parking lot, giving Stiles an apologetic pout. He groans and parks, slamming the door irritably as I climb out more delicately.
"I'm sorry. It was a long night."
"I know, I was there." Stiles grumbles. "Did you even have coffee?" I shake my head. "Why didn't you tell me? I left, like, a full pot at home!"
I laugh at his fussing and ruffle his buzzed head. "I'm fine. Actually, I'm pretty good."
"Uh-huh." Stiles makes a face, then points towards an impatient Scott. "Come on. We're in crisis mode here." He drags me towards the werewolf before I can respond.
Scott spares us a quick smile, but it fades when I'm a foot away. He sniffs the air and groans. "Oh my God, I can smell Derek all over you!"
Stiles makes a face, nearly gagging. "Oh my God, that's disgusting, Ricky, have some self-respect!"
"What? No, we didn't have sex. He's hiding out at my place, remember?" I hiss at his dramatics. "Anyway, of course I smell like him, we kissed… I mean, yeah, we kissed." I blush as my thoughts shift to last night.
Stiles snaps in my face, and I blink back to attention. "Hey, focus! Now isn't the time for whatever weird, gross thoughts you're having about you and Derek. We have an actual situation here, remember? The necklace? The thing the alpha -"
"Alright." I huff. "Let me think. Right. Okay." I pause. "No, I got nothing. Sorry, didn't have any coffee this morning. I was a little preoccupied." Stiles throws his arms up and glares at me.
Scott leads us into the school, sighing as he opens the door. "This is going to be impossible, you know."
"Why don't you just ask her if you can borrow it?" We look at Stiles, shocked.
"How?" Scott asks, and I make a face.
"You say, 'Hey, Allison, can I borrow your necklace… to see if there's anything on it or in it… that can lead me to an alpha werewolf that I need to kill in order to get back together with you?'"
I point at Stiles. "A little too forward, but I like it." He snorts as I twirl to face Scott. "You can try talking to her. A little healthy communication never hurt anyone!"
Scott huffs. "She won't talk to me! What if she only takes it off in the shower or something?"
"That's why you ease - that's why you ease back into it, okay? Get back on her good side, remind her of the good times, and then you ask her for the necklace." Stiles tries, but he's never been a relationship guru.
I shake my head. "No, uh-uh. No girl wants the guy they just broke up with -"
"We're on a break!" Scott argues.
"Settle down, Ross."
Scott frowns. "Who the hell's Ross?"
Stiles and I shake our heads in frustration. "We're marathoning Friends next." I rub my forehead. "But back to my point… most girls don't want the guy they're on a break with pushing for the relationship to resume. They'll start feeling pressured to make a choice, and that takes away from what they need. Allison said she doesn't feel like she can trust you, right?" Scott nods sadly, and I grab his shoulders. "Then go and prove to her that she can, okay?"
"Yeah, that'll be a little difficult considering we have to take her necklace." Stiles hisses at us, and I nod.
"So we wait for the perfect moment. And when we're done with it, Scott'll return the necklace and tell her he found it in the halls and recognized it was hers. Boom."
"Yeah, great plan, except for how we get it!"
I turn and point at Stiles again. "Calm down. What always happens when we try to make a plan? Like, a full-on outlined, details included, with a bibliography as a cherry on top, plan? We fail. Spectacularly."
He pauses. "I… well… good point. Guess we're just gonna have to wait for the right opportunity. And when we're done, you bring her the necklace." He claps Scott on his shoulder. "And then you get her back. Necklace, find the Alpha, kill him, get back with Allison. In that order." The first bell rings and students rush past us. "I've got Spanish. Meet up at lunch?"
"Yeah, see you then." Scott mutters distractedly.
Stiles groans and leans down to whisper in my ear, "He's thinking about Allison in the shower, isn't he?"
I wrinkle my nose. "Oh, absolutely. Of course, I'm starting to think about Derek in -"
"Oh my God!" With a dramatic gesture Stiles turns around and storms off, no doubt cursing me as he stalks to Spanish.
I sigh and turn to a slowly refocusing Scott. "Hey, remember what I said. Wait for the right opportunity. Don't make her feel pressured. I know this all sucks, but she's in control of the situation - not you. Got it? Earn back her trust."
"I know, I know, I just… I miss her, you know?"
"I know you do Scotty. Just… give her time. Show her you can be friends, that she can trust you. Okay? I know for a fact that she misses you." He slowly starts to smile, and I lean up to kiss his cheek. "Show her some Scott McCall puppy charm and some good-old fashion honesty. But obviously don't tell her everything." The warning bell rings, but Scott's never been one for punctuality. "Listen, we'll all keep an eye out for the right moment to get the necklace, okay? Patience first, Lestrade."
"You're a really good friend, Patty-cake."
I grin as he kisses my forehead. "Yeah, yeah, flattery will get you everywhere. Get to class hon."
"Alright. I'll see you at lunch." He waves and walks away - one of the last few stragglers in the hallway. I hurry over to my locker to at least grab what I need for my first period, then scurry off to the library.
I'm distracted all day. Between last night and the necklace, I barely remember to take notes. By the time I'm heading to the cafeteria for lunch, I'm ready to just drive home and call it a day.
Until I remember that Stiles drove me, which means I'm stuck here for a while.
"Jackson knows." Scott whispers to me as soon as I set my tray down, sitting across from the werewolf. I pause in taking a bite, frowning over at him.
"Knows what?"
Scott leans forward, the crowded cafeteria giving our conversation some privacy. "He knows, Patty."
"Oh. Oh shit!" I nearly yell, ducking down to avoid any looks. When it's clear no one's paying attention to us, I nudge Scott's shin. He doesn't even wince. "What's he planning? What does he want?"
"He wants the bite." My best friend snarls. "The bite, or he'll tell Allison what I am. Who, by the way, won't even speak to me anymore -"
Before I can ask him to elaborate, Stiles is slamming himself down beside Scott. "Did you get her to give you the necklace?" He asks, just before stuffing his face with chicken.
Scott shakes his head. "Not exactly."
"Ah. What happened?" Stiles nearly chokes, and I shove his water bottle at him. He flashes me a thumbs up before taking a swig, thankfully swallowing before he spits his food everywhere.
"She told me not to talk to her. At all."
"Why -" I start to ask, but Stiles interrupts me, shoving more chicken strips into his mouth as he talks.
"So, she didn't give you the -"
"She's not giving me the necklace!" Scott nearly shouts, thankfully keeping his exasperation down.
I open my mouth, but Stiles is on a roll. "Okay. Well, did you find anything else out?"
"Just that I know nothing about girls, and that they're totally psychotic. No offense." Scott glances at me.
I sneer before glaring Stiles into silence. Satisfied he's focused on eating, I turn to our werewolf buddy once more. "I know I gave you some pretty stellar advice earlier, so why don't you explain to me how exactly you failed so epically?"
Scott has the decency to blush. "I, uh, sent her pictures of us. To remind her of the good times."
I groan and shake my head, standing up. "No. I can't. Oh my God, do neither of you listen to me?"
"What - where are you going? Now we've got the necklace and Douchemore to deal with, it's all hands on deck!" Stiles insists, whisper-yelling at me. I huff and sit back down, glowering at my two dumbasses.
"Fine. Just know I'm disappointed."
Stiles lets out an offended squeak. "What did I do?"
I narrow my eyes. "Scott wouldn't have pulled that stunt without your encouragement. The next time either one of you has a relationship problem, you come to me. Unbelievable."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Fine." Scott flashes his dimples while Stiles huffs. I nod in satisfaction, watching as the Sheriff's son straightens. "I think I've got an idea. I came up with a plan 'B' in case something like this happened. Yes, Patricia, I'm aware it probably should've been plan 'A' -"
"What's plan B?" Scott interrupts, impatient.
"Just steal the damn thing!" Stiles huffs as he drinks some more water.
I make a face before humming, nodding at Scott. "Yeah. Probably easiest."
"Seriously? That's easy? Can't we just try getting to Harris?" Scott questions, frowning when Stiles shakes his head, glancing my way as he speaks.
"No. My dad put him on a 24-hour protective detail, okay?" I just might forgive my dad for the Neuralyzer incident, considering dealing with Adrian Harris is punishment enough. "The necklace is all we've got."
"I can always give it a try." I offer. "I mean, of the three of us Allison is more likely to let me borrow it, if I say I want to use it for a potential article, or whatever."
Scott shakes his head. "No. If something goes wrong, I don't want you taking the blame."
I smile. "Yeah, well, this is worth it." Scott still shakes his head. "Fine. That'll just be plan 'C'."
Scott suddenly starts to panic, shifting in his chair and staring over my shoulder before getting Stiles's attention. "He's watching us."
Stiles and I both twist to stare at whatever's got Scott worried, and I find myself glowering at Jackson. My eyes don't leave his as he aggressively bites into his green apple, but I do turn to face the teen werewolf when he releases an audible gasp of pain.
"Scott?"
"Hurts." He winces, covering his ears. "He's biting too loud. I told you, he knows. He's talking to me." He shifts again, and Stiles and I can only watch as he gets progressively more irritated, eventually turning to our motormouth friend. "Stiles, look at me. Just talk to me. Act normal. Pretend that nothing's happening." He insists, breathing ragged. Stiles picks the wrong time to be speechless. He fumbles around for something to say, sputtering and stammering. Both Scott and I just gape at him, watching as our best friend falters. "Say something, talk to me!" Scott sends me a pleading look, and suddenly I'm going speechless, too. "Oh my God, neither one of you can think of anything to say?"
"I can't think of anything, my mind's a complete blank!" Stiles panics.
"Your mind's blank? You can't think of something to say?"
"Not under this kind of pressure -"
Scott turns to me, and I can't help what I say next. What, it's been on my mind all morning! "All I can think about is Derek. Like, do you think he's into me, or was it just a 'heat of the moment' situation, because I feel like we'd have really hot sex, and that's just going off the kiss." I cover my mouth as soon as the words leave my mouth, both boys looking at me with absolute disgust all over their faces. "I'm sorry, I'm horny and I'm pretty sure I'm getting my period soon."
"Please stop talking." Stiles pleads, Scott aiding him by picking up my fries and forcing them into my mouth. I chew as carefully as possible, praying no one else heard my confession as the boys shake their heads.
Stiles peers over my shoulder, sighing in relief. "Well, that nightmare was for nothing. FYI, he's not even sitting with them anymore." Like Scott I glance over at Lydia and Allison. True to Stiles's observations, Jackson isn't at their table. That doesn't mean he left. This is Douchemore we're talking about.
Scott must have the same idea, because he glances around the cafeteria before freezing. His ears twitch, and Stiles and I watch Scott closely, sending each other worried glances as his breathing gets deeper and less controlled, a few snarls slipping out. He grips and twists at his tray, mine and Stiles's warnings falling on deaf ears as our best friend focuses on whatever bullshit Jackson's spouting at him. Eventually Scott snaps, and my eyes widen as he breaks his tray in half with minimal effort. The entire cafeteria goes silent, and as I finally catch sight of a smug Jackson biting his apple victoriously, I waste no time in grabbing my bag and scurrying over to him, grabbing the collar of his leather jacket before he can shake me off and dragging him down an empty hallway.
He grunts as I twist and slam him into a wall, smirking like some kind of villain in an 80's flick. "You know, it's a shame you're not my type. I like a little aggression, we'd definitely have fun -"
"Yeah, you're not my type, either." I glower as menacingly as possible, spine tingling when Jackson actually gulps. "What Scott is… that's not something to be asked for lightly. Besides, you have everything. What more could you possibly want?"
Jackson scowls, shoving me away. "What I have, it's not enough. I'm going to get what I want, one way or another. I always do. Scott's future with Allison depends on how I get it."
I shake my head, stepping further away. "Be careful what you wish for, Jackson." With that I'm storming back into the cafeteria, Scott still fuming. Thankfully the cafeteria's alive with noise again, and Stiles has discreetly swapped the broken tray for his whole one. "Our priority is the necklace. We'll deal with Jackson later." The boys nod, and I twist to watch Douchemore strut back to Lydia's table, giving his girlfriend a not-so school friendly kiss before winking at Allison. He glances at me, the staring match only ending when the bell rings, signaling that our lunch period is over.
With only two classes on my schedule today - and all the articles for the next school newspaper issue reviewed and saved to my laptop - I sit irritably in the school library. Half of me wants to just get up and walk home, but the other half recognizes I'd have to put up with the boys' grumbling and pouting for longer than necessary. So with a resigned sigh, I pull out the notebook I designated for the Hale House Fire. Flipping to a blank page, I set four colored pens beside the paper; green, yellow, red, and blue. I call it the "Stiles Stilinski Method." Green means "solved", yellow means "to be determined", and red means "unsolved". Blue's just pretty - that was my addition to his organization method, one the younger teen quickly adopted. If it wasn't for Stiles, all of my notes would be a mess. He got tired of me complaining about everything when we started hanging out. I like to think it was an even trade - he helped me become more structured, and I kept him alive.
Alright. Notes. C'mon, speak to me. Mom and dad said the fire had to be hunters - based on how efficient it was, that's an easy conclusion to make. Now, I can't track the Argents to Beacon Hills, but that doesn't mean they're not not involved.
I nearly pound my forehead into the desk, groaning. God, I'm dumb. I'm so dumb.
All we needed to do was ask Allison where she got the necklace. If it was a random purchase from a store, that would create a whole new set of problems, but at least she could be left out of it. And if it wasn't a random purchase… either way, both answers would have equally complex consequences.
I write a reminder on my arm before returning to my notes. Biting my thumbnail, I resign myself to the fact I'm still not focused. That's probably my problem - I mean, it definitely is. There's so much going on, of course I'm missing the obvious. If it's not the mystery of the Hale fire plaguing me, it's a random forgotten memory escaping my subconscious mind to attack my conscious mind. And if it's not that, it's Derek; is he alright? Will I see him again? And then, if it's not Derek, it's the lie I've been living thanks to my parents, or Scott and his new identity as a teenage werewolf.
A small, nicely manicured hand suddenly appears in front of my face, slamming my notebook shut as the other shoves everything back into my bag. I frown and look up, only to meet Lydia Martin's devastated green eyes. Seeing the bubbling tears, I'm quick to pack up the rest of my belongings and let her drag me into the empty parking lot.
As soon as we're in her car, Lydia breaks down. Unsure of what exactly to do - I've only ever seen her cry once, and that was when she managed to get me to watch The Notebook - I wrap an arm around her shoulder. "What happened? Hey, come here." I whisper, gently pulling her face into my shoulder.
"He dumped me!" She wails. I wince at the shriek, but don't complain. "Can you believe the audacity of that… that… boy! That's what he is, just a jealous little boy!"
"Lyds, back up a few paces. What exactly happened?"
Lydia shifts and lifts her head, quickly wiping away her tears as she catches her breath. Her eyes say sad, but her tone screams anger. "Jackson," she hisses his name, "I thought it was a joke, because he texted his little breakup to me. What kind of boyfriend does that?" I don't have time to answer, because she just powers on. "A cowardly little snake, that's who. And then he had the nerve to say I'm dead weight! What the hell, he was lucky he even gets the privilege to breathe the same air as me!" A sob erupts from her chest, and I rub her back. "I can't believe he dumped me. I thought he loved me!"
"Lyds, hey." I murmur soothingly, taking a tissue out of her glove compartment to help dab at the flicks of mascara staining her cheeks. "He's a jerk. There's a reason we call him 'Douchemore'. You deserve way better than that dickless sack of limited talent. He's going to peak in high school, we both know it."
"He said he was preparing for some 'new changes' in his life. What the hell does that even mean?" She asks.
A newfound anger at Jackson for his insane amount of greed surges inside of me. "I have no idea." I lie, then nod towards the school. "Do you want me to handle it?"
Lydia snorts wetly, then lowers her visor so she can check her makeup. "No. You've got college to look forward to, I can't have you going to jail."
"They'd never catch me."
"Well, if you're so sure." She jokes, but it's with an understandably heavy tone.
"Look, Lydia - Jackson's a dick. He never appreciated you. He never saw you, or even tried to see the real you under that wall of bimbo." Lydia huffs. "What you need is a guy who can keep up with you, or else you're never going to be satisfied."
Also, she did, you know - kiss Scott, but now doesn't really feel like the right moment to bring that up.
"You're one to talk." She teases, voice steadier. "Every guy you date is either a dumb jock, or a hottie with the personality of a rotten potato."
I bite my lip. "Yeah. But like you said, I've got college to look forward to. That means dating men."
"God, I'm so jealous." Lydia groans.
"Well, give it a couple of years. You'll find someone who can handle Lydia Martin."
Lydia smiles as I lightly nudge her shoulder. She briefly checks her phone and sighs, running a hand through her loose waves. "I have to go. As frustrated as I am, I refuse to miss chemistry over a boy who thought he could break my heart."
I grin as we both climb out of her car. "Alright. Go get 'em, Lyds."
"Mwah!" With two parting air kisses, the secret genius is turning on her heel and strutting away. I grin as some heads turn, all eyes on Lydia Martin. With forty-five minutes to spare and some decent weather, I make my way towards one of the outdoor tables, popping in my headphones to try and drown out all the problems that need to be solved.
The peace I find in that time is disrupted as soon as Stiles calls me, yelling in my ear as he asks for my location, having already gone to the Sewer Lair and the library. He's still ranting about my lack of communication ten minutes later, when we're pulling up to his house.
"It's just unbelievable. That school's basically a maze once you get to the basement!" Stiles growls as he storms up the stairs. I wave to his amused father as I follow after my best friend, pausing momentarily to stare out the window and into my house. The blinds are still closed, but that could mean anything. Where the hell is Derek?
I drop my bag by Stiles's bedroom door before making my way over to his desk. I'm still a distance away from the hunched-over hyperactive teen when a large hand grabs my wrist and spins me backwards. As I let out a surprised yelp, the Sheriff calls up to his son from downstairs.
"Hey, Stiles!"
"You da-Derek!" Stiles answers, balking when he notices the frowning werewolf. Derek sends me a brief smile just before he puts a finger to his lips, angrily gesturing towards the door while glowering at Stiles. "I, um -" Stiles runs to the door, poking his head out while mostly keeping Derek out of view. I move to go and join in the diversion, but Derek only tugs me closer, a finger tucked under my chin as he presses his lips to mine. I try to stay as quiet as possible, my eyes fluttering shut and my lungs begging for air as we kiss.
"See you there. I'll see you later, Patty!" The Sheriff calls.
I barely pull away from Derek, silently clearing my throat as I turn my head to respond. "Yes, sir!" As Stiles's dad walks downstairs I twist towards Derek again, my hands on the collar of his leather jacket. "Where've you been?" I whisper up at the werewolf, my eyes fluttering shut as he strokes my cheek.
"Out. Like I said. Don't worry, no one saw me." He promises, kissing my cheek. As soon as the door reopens he's shoving Stiles against the wood, slamming it once more as the werewolf prods a finger into my best friend's chest. "If you say one word -"
"What?" Stiles asks, nervously licking his lips as he meets Derek's glower. "Like, 'Dad, Derek Hale's in my room, bring your gun?'" I muffle my laughter as the werewolf backs up a little, his hands relaxing as he continues to grip Stiles's jacket. "That's right. If I'm harboring your fugitive ass it's my house, my rules." Derek nods as Stiles smacks him in the chest before shifting back and straightening his jacket. Stiles smirks as he returns the favor for Derek. It takes a lot for me to hold in my snickers when he flinches back, the werewolf jutting his head forward threateningly. "Oh my God!" Stiles stumbles over to his desk, and I roll my eyes as Derek winks cockily at me.
"Be nice, Der." I whisper.
"Absolutely not." He snorts at my pouting. "Scott didn't get the necklace?" He asks as Stiles crashes onto his spinning chair.
"No. He's still working on it. But there's something else we can try." Derek shrugs while I tilt my head. Stiles's eyes flick over to me. "The night we were trapped at the school," I wince - Derek was dead, I thought he was dead - "Scott sent a text to Allison asking her to meet him there."
"So?" Derek asks, wrapping a leather-clad arm around my waist, his hand squeezing my hip. Right. My scent. He can smell something's wrong.
"Well, it wasn't Scott."
"Can you find out who sent it?"
Stiles shakes his head. "No, not me. But Ricky and I might know somebody who can."
I grin. "Oh, he's going to hate this."
"Who?"
Holding up a finger to silence Derek, I scroll through my contacts, pressing my phone to my ear and wait for the ringing to end. "Hey. How fast can you get to Stiles's house?"
"Why am I here again?" Danny demands as soon as I've opened the door to the Stilinski house, which, fair. "You do realize the game starts in three hours, right? I'm supposed to meet Jackson at his place."
"Yeah, don't worry, this won't take long." I reassure him with a pleasant smile before taking a sip from my giant class of Cherry Coke. "Stiles and I just need your help with a personal research project."
"That isn't code for a threesome, right? Because you two aren't my type."
I gag. "Ew, gross, he's like my brother. Besides, I'm interested in someone else."
"It isn't Greenberg, right?"
"Oh my God, why do people keep bringing him up?" I moan, leading Danny up the stairs. Stiles awkwardly waves as soon as his teammate walks into his room, and I catch the goalie eyeing Derek as he reads in the corner.
"Thanks, man." Stiles pulls out a chair so Danny can sit with him at the desk, and I hop onto Stiles bed, poking Derek in the thigh with my shoe. The werewolf side-eyes me before grabbing my ankle, laying it over his lap. I cross my other foot over it, and Derek rests his book on my feet. With a bored hum, I pull out my phone and start a game of Tetris, one-handed because there's nowhere in Stiles's room to put my cup down - seriously, what would it take to get Stiles to clean up after himself?
"So, uh, what is it you want me to do?" Danny asks our host, still standing.
"I want you to trace a text for me."
"You want me to do what?" The goalie asked, incredulous.
"Trace a text."
Danny scoffs. "I came here because I thought you needed help with, like, lab work. This is the secret project?" He turns to me and I blink back innocently.
Stiles ran his hand over his buzzed head. "And I will need help with Chemistry, once you trace the text."
"And what makes you think I know how?"
My best friend laughs nervously. "I looked up your arrest report, so …"
"I was thirteen, they dropped the charges. Who else did you tell, other than Patricia?" Danny scowls down at Stiles.
"I didn't tell her, she was sitting next to me. And obviously no one, or you'd be getting requests from every person in school to change their grades." Danny hums in agreement.
"Alright, I believe you. But no, I'm not tracing a text. We're doing lab work."
"Oh my -" Stiles grumps, my little amused snort earning a huff from Derek. The noise has Danny turning in his chair - having finally taken a seat - and eyeing the werewolf curiously.
"Who's he again?"
Stiles turns around, as if he only just remembered Derek's with us. "Um, he's my cousin." My best friend clears his throat as he spins back towards Danny. "Miguel."
I barely contain my giggle at the werewolf's unimpressed scowl, directed at the back of Stiles's head. He bares his teeth at me warningly, but something about the snarl is so familiar I have to cover my mouth to hold in the laughter bubbling in my throat. The frustration recedes from Derek's eyes, lips forming a slight smile.
"He and, uh, Patricia seem awfully comfortable around each other. Is this why you didn't want me mentioning Greenberg?" Danny asks me as soon as I've got a mouthful of Cherry Coke in my mouth. To my horror, it comes spraying out and all over Derek's shirt, book tossed aside just in time to avoid the bulk of the spray. Stiles nearly falls out of his chair as he chokes on his laughter, and I burrow my face in my hands to avoid seeing the expression on Derek's face.
All of a sudden, Stiles stops laughing - the abruptness isn't a good sign. I peek over at him to see my best friend sending Danny a coy smirk, then follow the goalie's gaze back to Derek. His abs are on display, the werewolf using the bottom half of his shirt to wipe his face.
"Hey, Miguel, you can borrow a shirt. Now that yours is all sticky."
My cheeks flush all the more, Danny staring down as Derek rises, my feet sliding off his lap. I try to look away from the werewolf as he begins to tug off his soaked henley, but the three-spiral tattoo catches my eye yet again, having not seen it since the time Stiles and I almost had to chop off his arm.
A barely-there growl escapes Derek, and his eyes briefly flash blue at me, a sly grin creeping onto his face as he pulls out a shirt. He makes sure to turn towards me just enough that I can see his bared torso. As he moves, though, Derek's smirk turns into a cute little pout.
"Um, Stiles." He grunts at my best friend, who takes a break from trying to persuade Danny to deal with the frustrated werewolf.
"Yes?" Stiles huffs.
Derek stretches the shirt in response. "This. No fit." He tugs the fabric a couple of more times for effect, and I notice Danny staring at his toned arms.
Same, Mahealani.
"Then try something else on." Stiles snarks back. "Sorry." He murmurs to Danny as he shifts to face his teammate. I feel Derek's eyes on me, but find the strength to avoid his gaze in favor of observing the other two boys.
And, you know, give him some privacy. Totally.
"Hey, that one looks pretty good, huh?" Stiles asks as Derek turns around, this time wearing Stiles's blue-and-orange striped shirt. The fabric is practically stretched to its limit, leaving nothing to the imagination. "What do you think, Danny?"
"Huh?"
"The shirt." My best friend points at the near-snarling werewolf.
"It-it's not really his color." The goalie reluctantly stammers out.
Derek's shoulders heave as he pulls off the shirt, and I have to duck as he tosses the rejected options behind him.
"You swing for a different team but you still play ball, huh, Danny-boy?" I hear Stiles ask, then grin at Danny's quick response.
"You're a horrible person."
"I know, it keeps me up at night." Stiles quips. "Anyway, about that text."
"Stiles!" Derek finally growls out. "None of these fit!" He shakes another brown tee at my best friend, who sends me a wink before smiling innocently at a flushed Danny.
The goalie clears his throat, quickly leaning towards Stiles's laptop. "I'll need the ISP, the phone number, and the exact time of text."
As Stiles does a little happy dance in his chair, I look up at Derek once more. His eyes are starting to flash blue, but it's dangerous compared to the way he glanced at me minutes earlier. "Miguel! I'm sure your uncle has something that fits. Don't have too much fun without us, boys!" I call over my shoulder as I grab Derek's hand, practically dragging him out of the room.
We get as far as the table in the middle of the hall before the werewolf's tugging me face-first into his bare chest, arms wrapped tightly around me as his nose grazes the top of my head. "Hey. Are you okay? I'm sorry, it was definitely an accident, I'm sorry if -"
"Not upset with you. Was kind of funny." Derek murmurs. "Remind me to tell you about the time you sprayed milk out of your nose."
"Ew."
Derek pulls away with a grin, then nudges me. "Where's a damn shirt?"
As soon as we return from our mission, Stiles's laptop beeps. Derek - now wearing a dark gray tee I found at the back of the Sheriff's closet - and I hover behind the two sophomores. "There." Danny sighs. "The text was sent from a computer. This one."
Derek furrows his eyebrows as we all stare at the name, disbelief rolling through me like a tidal wave. "Registered to that account name?"
As Danny nods, Stiles and I shake our heads. "No, no. That can't be right." My best friend argues, sending me a worried glance.
Account registered to: Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital - Melissa McCall
Shit.
Night's fallen by the time we reach the hospital, knowing it would be easier to figure out what the hell's going on with Melissa's account without having to explain everything to her. Instead, we all sit in Stiles's jeep, waiting for the hospital's visiting hours to end. Derek had managed not to give into my pout, and against my better judgment decided to accompany us. I'm on edge as I stare out the window, hoping no one comes close enough to recognize the current most-wanted man in Beacon County.
"Relax." Derek attempts to soothe me, and I shake my head as I turn to look at him. He sighs, shifting in the passenger seat to reach back and take my hand. Stiles makes a disgusted noise, but otherwise ignores us. "Hey, it's too dark for anyone to see. Okay?"
"I'm not bailing you out if you're caught." I huff back. This time, Stiles makes a sound of approval, quieting when the werewolf glares him into submission.
"Sorry." My best friend apologizes, then startles when his phone pings. "It's just Scott, hang on. Whoa, look, he got the necklace." I move to the middle seat so I can get a clearer view of Allison's pendant.
"That's -"
"Yeah." Stiles nods, quickly calling Scott back, putting our Lestrade on speaker.
"Did you get the picture?" Scott immediately asks.
"Yeah." Stiles confirms. "And it looks just like the drawing."
"Hey, if there's something on the back of it," Derek starts, snatching Stiles's wrists and ignoring his irritated grunt as the older werewolf addresses the younger, "there's gotta be something. An inscription, an opening, something."
"No, no, the thing's flat and no, it doesn't open." Scott is quick to tell him. "There's nothing in it, on it, around it. Nothing. And where are you?! You're supposed to be here. You're first line!"
"Where the hell is Balinski, huh?" We hear Coach ask, Scott grunting on the other end.
After a few moments of silence, Scott sighs. "You're not gonna play if you're not here to start."
"I know!" Stiles shouts. Derek winces at the volume. "Look, if you just… if you see my dad," I frown sadly as my best friend shakes his head in self-disappointment, "can you tell him, tell him I'll be there, I'll just be a little bit late, okay?"
"Sure, Stiles."
"Alright, thanks."
"Wait, Scott -" Before I can finish, Stiles hangs up on the teen werewolf. He ignores my frustrated huff, slamming his phone onto his dashboard.
"You're not gonna make it." Derek tells him.
Stiles nods, staring at the hospital. "I know."
"And you didn't let me tell him about Melissa." I remind him, Stiles turning around to face me.
"Not till we find out the truth. Come on, Ricky, we both know how distracted he'd get. The Coach will be extra pissed, and I honestly don't want to deal with that right now."
"Fine." I sigh. "You're right."
My best friend starts to grin. "What did you just -"
"Hey!" Derek snaps. "By the way, one more thing?" He says to Stiles, who blinks at him in confusion.
"Yeah?"
I jump as the werewolf slams Stiles's head against the steering wheel, instantly checking on my best friend as he groans. "What the hell, Derek?"
"He knows what that was for!" He angrily grunts back, pointing at Stiles. "Go. Go!"
"Oh my God!"
I start to follow my best friend, but Derek takes my hand again. "Yes?" I ask, eyes going wide as the werewolf tugs me forward.
"Be careful." He murmurs, just before pressing his lips to mine. I sink into his kiss for all of a few seconds before pulling away.
"I'll try." I nod and hurry out of the car before Stiles has a chance to realize I was held up.
Between the years he spent visiting his mom, and the amount of times I've taken Scott to drop off food for Melissa, Stiles and I know Beacon Memorial like the back of our hands. That makes it really easy to sneak around and try to find the computer with the same IP address as the one Danny found for us.
But here's the kicker - it's been twenty minutes, and we still haven't found it. Groaning at our terrible luck, I'm quick to call Derek's burner, putting him on speaker.
"Bad news, Der -"
"We can't find it." I shoot Stiles a look when he interrupts me. "Sorry."
"Where are you now?" Derek asks, and I shove my best friend before he can answer.
"Uh, Long Term Care."
"That's where Peter is." The werewolf murmurs, sounding even further away than he actually is. "Hey, look for Jennifer. She's the nurse who's been taking care of him. She might be able to help."
"Great. What room is he in?" Stiles asks.
"130."
I point in the right direction, Stiles staying on the line with Derek as we rush to find his uncle. We both freeze when we find the room completely empty, the bed made and the wheelchair abandoned. "Uh, Der?"
"What?"
"He's not here, either." Stiles answers.
"What?!" Derek repeats, a little louder.
I clear my throat, goosebumps erupting all over my flesh. The hospital suddenly feels colder than usual. "He isn't here. He's gone, Derek."
The werewolf goes silent for a few breaths, and I latch onto Stiles's arm. "Patricia, Stiles, get out of there right now. It's him, he's the alpha! Get out!"
My phone falls from Stiles's hand, clattering on the ground. I barely manage to swipe it off the floor as my best friend drags me towards the exit. The sudden emergence of a half-burned man stops us in our tracks.
"You must be Stiles." The stranger whispers, his eyes flicking to me, next. "My, my. Little Patricia. You've grown up." I frown. "Don't you recognize me? I know my face is different, but I'm still the same Peter. More or less." A cruel smirk appears on Derek's uncle's face. "Oh, yes, that's right. Derek nearly cried when he told me what your parents did to you. No matter. I could try and fix it, if you'd like."
"St-stay away." I stammer out, grateful for Stiles when he practically lifts me in his attempt to get us the hell out of there.
We jump when we come face-to-face with a nurse with manic eyes. "What are you doing here? Visiting hours are over."
"Nurse Jennifer, I'm guessing." The woman smiles pleasantly back at me, but it's a cold expression.
"You and him." Stiles murmurs, brain rebooting. I try to keep him still as he staggers, pointing between the nurse and her alpha patient. "You're the one who…"
"Sent the text." I finish for him, barely speaking in a whisper.
"And he's the…"
Mhm, he's the alpha.
"Oh my God." My best friend whines, and despite the situation I find myself closing my eyes and sighing in frustration. "Ricky, we're gonna die!"
There's a thud behind us, and we turn away from Peter just enough to watch the nurse collapse, Derek lowering his elbow as he glowers at his uncle.
The alpha tuts. "That's not nice. She's my nurse."
"She's a psychotic bitch helping you kill people. Get out of the way." Derek orders.
"Ah, damn." Stiles whimpers as he drags us both to the ground.
"You think I killed Laura on purpose?" Peter asks, and I stare up at Derek as the werewolf clenches his jaw. "My own family?"
As his uncle advances, Derek roars, fangs out and eyes glowing that brilliant blue. "Derek!" I shout, trying to push Stiles away as the alpha grabs his nephew and throws him against the wall, denting the plasters.
"Patricia, go! Stiles, get her out of here!" Derek manages to grunt out, just before his uncle tosses him against the opposite wall.
"Get off me!" I shriek, trying to wriggle out of my best friend's grip as he forces me to stand. "Derek -"
"Ricky, come on! We're dead if we stay!" Stiles shouts back. I try to double-back, only for the other teen to twist and - in a surprising show of strength - throw me over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes.
As he runs us out of the hospital, the last thing I see is Peter lifting Derek up by the throat.
The house is quiet when I get home. Stiles tries to follow me inside, but I slam the door behind me, bolting it shut with shaking hands. My whole body is shuddering, finally coming down from all the adrenaline. I force myself to drink a cup of water, downing it in seconds before I pour myself another. I'm like a baby deer as I try to get up the stairs, surprised I don't wake the twins or my mom. Is my dad home? Is he working the night shift? I can't remember. All that matters is that we know who the alpha is, and it's Derek's uncle. Who murdered Laura, who stole her powers, who could have killed me and Stiles. Who might have killed Derek.
I cover my mouth to hold in my sob, nearly falling into my room. I close the door as quietly as I can before scurrying over to my padded windowsill. I raise the blinds to fully let in the moonlight, and wait for Derek to appear from the shadows.
He never does.