Right Beside You (2022)

by BrittWitt16

Sadie feels like she's drowning—in guilt, in fear, in darkness. She doesn't know how to help Lydia after winter formal. She doesn't know how to protect her friends when there's an all-out war brewing between werewolves and hunters. But most of all, she doesn't know if she can trust herself to make the right choices. / REWRITE OF MY 2013 SERIES

9. Like Family

"You sure you don't want to come?"

"Yeah, unfortunately."

"Really? Because it sounds a little bit like someone's afraid of getting their ass kicked at Mario Kart again."

"Woah, woah, hold up there, Stilinski. If I remember correctly, you were the one who got your ass kicked. By me."

"Oh, was it?"

"Hm, yeah. I think it sounds a little bit like someone's formed some faulty memories to shield their wounded pride."

"Ouch! Damn, Bennet, that hurts. That hurts right…okay, well you can't see me, but I'm pointing at my heart."

I chuckled, flipping my hair over my shoulder and switching the phone to my other ear. I was sitting in my bedroom, books spread over my desktop as I lounged back in my chair, feet kicked up on the corner of the desk. I drummed the end of my pen against my jeans as Stiles cleared his throat.

"So you, uh…you honestly can't come, right? It's not…it doesn't have anything to do with us uh…our…"

"Our date?" I asked, digging my teeth into my lower lip.

"Ha. Yeah. Date. Our date. But this—this has nothing to do with that…right?"

"Promise," I assured him. "This has nothing to do with us and everything to do with the fact that I can't give Harris a reason to fail me in chemistry."

"Psh, you? Chemistry? Fail? Come on, Sadie."

"Hey, I'm being serious. I'm not going to let myself fall behind on any of this work. So, you go have fun racing or shooting zombies with Scott, but I am going to be safely at home with my equations and word problems."

"Wow. Well, you sure know how to have a good time, huh?"

"Hm, that attitude keeps up and I'll never show you."

I bit my lip at the double entendre, terrified it might've been too bold, but was rewarded with Stiles's groan. "That's—that's just not fair…"

"Never said I was. Have fun, though."

"Yeah, yeah. See ya around, Bennet."

"See ya, Stilinski."

I ended the call, tapping the phone against the heel of my hand for a few seconds and staring into space. I grabbed the travel mug of tea off my desk, taking another long sip. I'd hardly drank anything but Deaton's tea since I'd tried it the other morning. It felt weird, but in a god way. Every time I drank it, my whole body seemed to tingle, heat welling in my chest. It didn't feel like the swelling spark of satisfaction I got from hurting Kate, though—more like a sparkling pile of embers cooling down after a fire. Unfortunately for me, the tea leaves were almost gone. I'd have to think about asking Deaton for more.

I glanced at the time on my phone, then tossed it onto my desk, where it landed on top of a thick map of Beacon Hills. I stacked up the lycanthropy books and tucked them back into my cabinet before turning back to the map. It was fresh, still creased where I'd unfolded it a few days ago, but the whole thing was already covered in pen marks, symbols that showed our house, the Stilinski house, the McCalls, the Argents, the Hale manor, the school. Everywhere. My finger grazed over the paper, dragging along until it found its way to a large red circle. I tapped it, checking its position once more before folding up the map and stowing it away. I picked up my chemistry notebook and, after flipping through a few pages, dropped it straight into my backpack.

Instead, I jumped to my feet, grabbing my leather jacket and heading for the mirror. I tugged the laces on my boots a little tighter and straightened, letting my fingers graze over my dog tags. Then I stood there, staring blankly at my reflection.

A thousand images passed in front of my eyes in a fraction of a second—standing in front of the same mirror in my dress before formal, standing at the hospital later, dressed Kate's clothes and ready to kill, crawling through the leaves at the Hale house as Allison shot arrows into Derek, staring at Scott down the barrel of a gun, staring at Kate as she laughed through the pain, Lydia screaming, crying, bleeding…

My stomach roiled and I forced my eyes closed. How was I supposed to go on living my life if I couldn't even look at myself in the mirror without remembering all the terrible things I'd done? I tried to remind myself what each of my friends had said when they forgave me—because they had forgiven me, each in their own way, even if it didn't make sense to me. I told them what happened and they forgave me.

"Everyone has to learn to control their dark side."

"I might've done the same thing."

"You're only human, and I'd say you're pretty freaking amazing."

"You're still good."

I squinted cautiously at my reflection, but immediately shut my eyes again. Even with all the mantras in the world, the same voice kept pushing its way to the front of my mind.

"Murderer."

I turned away from the mirror. That was enough for now.

I grabbed my purse and my tea and walked out into the hall. Out of habit, my first stop was Lydia's room. I peered in the open door, not bothering to announce myself. Lydia was sitting at her vanity, painting her nails and listening to music. Her back was to me, but I could see her reflection in the mirror, pouting in concentration as she completed the task with surgical precision. Reassured that she was safe for the moment, I continued downstairs.

"Hey, Mom?"

She glanced up from her computer as I swung into her office. "Mhm? What's up, hon?"

"Is it okay if I take the car? I'm finished with my chem stuff, and I was gonna head over to hang out with Scott and Stiles."

"Mm, isn't it bad luck to see a guy before the date?" she asked with a sly smile.

"Funny," I said flatly, pulling my hair up into a ponytail. "I'm gonna see him at school all the time, and it's not like we're alone. We'll be with Scott."

"That poor, sad, third-wheeling boy."

"Mom…"

"Alright, alright!" She threw up her hands, already turning back to her computer. "Do not stay too late, and try not to torture Scott."

I stuck my tongue out at her on my way out the door.

Anxious as I was to get to my destination, I forced myself to slow down. I had a few errands to run first, which meant driving into town before I went anywhere else. My first stop was the closest, nicest, cheapest retail store I could think of. I was working with a relatively small budget; I'd cut back on my days at the library due to "incident-related stress," but I still wanted to buy as much as I could. I got a few pillows and blankets, some hygienic stuff like toothbrushes and toothpaste and dry shampoo, cleaning products, and wound up throwing some cheap sweatshirts in too.

Next I went over to the grocery store to pick up a few basics: bread, peanut butter, cereal, water bottles, chips, cookies…okay, so maybe a few more things than the basics, but it was important.

Last, I stopped at Toby's Burgers. I restrained myself from buying one of everything this time, but the man behind the counter still gave me a dubious look when I read off the long order. It took a while for all the food to come out, and it was a trick balancing the three bags and drinks on my way out, but I managed without any help.

With the food tucked safely in the passenger seat, I was free to head toward my intended destination. With every passing second, I was getting a little more nervous. I hadn't exactly thought this through. It'd seemed like a good idea when I was sitting in my room, but now that I was on the road…there was a very good chance that this was not going to go over well. I had no idea what I was actually going to say. I just knew that I had to do something. But after everything that had happened at the station, I wasn't sure how that was going to play out.

The longer I drove, the darker it got. The streetlamps were getting farther and farther apart, and not all of them worked. There was no point fixing the lighting in an abandoned part of town. I'd driven through the area enough to know where I was going, but the quiet was still unnerving. It would have been better if the sun was up, but I couldn't risk making this trip in the daylight. Not today.

I finally pulled into the empty lot, parking the van in the shadows of the far corner. Of course, the whole lot was basically in shadow tonight. Only a few stray moonbeams broke through the heavy clouds overhead, and there were no sounds in the clearing—no crickets, no cars, no rustling leaves in the wind. Just dead silence.

I pulled my purse over my shoulder and patted the taser inside, just to reassure myself.

In a foolish move, I tried to bring all the packages in at once. I didn't want to spend any more time outside than I needed to, and that meant that multiple trips to the car was just not an option. Unfortunately, carrying everything at once was a precarious deal. I'd just bought too much damn stuff. I could feel the straps of each bag digging painfully into my arms as I piled on package after package. I was going to be sore and striped when I finally dropped the luggage, but I was honestly too nervous to care. I struggled to pick up my purse and lock the car before hobbling over the building and making my way down the stairs.

The inside was just as creepy as the outside; it was almost cliché. I could hear the wind whistling through cracks in the walls, the dripping of old pipes, the occasional scurry of some small animal looking for shelter. It was even darker than it was outside, and I had to feel my way down the staircase while my eyes adjusted.

It took a couple of minutes, but I finally made it to the solid, cement floor. I still had to test the path with my feet, hoping not to trip over any of the debris that was strewn on the ground. I had to painstakingly shuffle my way across the room so I didn't fall over and die in the dark, but I was eventually able to drop my bags in a relatively safe, clear spot and stretch my arms out.

The first thing I did was grab my flashlight from my purse. I picked my way back toward the stairs, scanning the wall until I finally found a large, rusty box wired into the concrete. The door had to be pried open, and it made a cringe-worthy screech, but after I forced a few of the switches inside, the overhead lights began to flicker on.

I grinned in triumph as the room came into view—the small, splintering tables dotting the floor, broken bottles left from crashed parties, some crushed cans and the usual garbage—but the centerpiece of the room was the large railcar sitting crooked in the middle of the floor. I dusted off my hands and got to work.

Now that I could see, the next step was cleaning. There was only so much that could be done to clear away the grime in an abandoned, underground building held together by decades of rust, but that didn't mean I couldn't try and sanitize some of it. I grabbed some paper towels and Windex, wiping down windows and handrails until the place no longer screamed "health hazard." I'd just finished arranging the bags on the chairs inside the railcar when I was forced to stop.

"You wanna tell me what I'm doing here?"

I screamed, whirling around and wielding the spray bottle like a pistol. Derek snorted from his spot in the doorway, leaning on the wall with his arms folded over his chest.

"Effective."

"Shut up. You scared me half to death."

"I noticed. And you'd be more than half-dead if it was anyone but me. What are we doing here?"

I squirted the Windex at him in retaliation, then dropped it back into the seat I'd designated for cleaning supplies. I peeked out the newly cleaned window, scanning the very empty room outside.

"Where's Isaac?"

"Safe."

"Safe where?"

"Safe I'm not telling you," Derek snapped, his eyes narrowing to slits. "He's fine. Why won't you just trust me on that?"

"I do trust you. I'd just feel a lot better if I knew where my friend was."

"Well, you don't get to. I don't need you telling Scott and Stiles, and then they're telling Isaac that he made a mistake and he can't trust me, and then he pulls something stupid and gets himself killed. The less people know, the better. Now if that's all you wanted to know, I actually have more important things to do."

He stormed out of the railcar, leaving me to run after him.

"No! Wait! That's—that's not why I asked you to come…"

Derek stopped hallway to the stairs. He turned around with his usual stoic look, barely twitching his eyebrows in response. He was still doubtful and annoyed as ever, but willing to listen for the moment.

I took a shaky breath, stepping down onto his level and playing with my fingers. I should have done less thinking about Windex and more thinking about what the hell I was going to say.

"It's just…I know that you've had…a rough few weeks. Months, really."

"Yeah, thank you for reminding me, Sadie."

"Especially because of your family," I continued, ignoring the jab. I saw his jaw tighten, and rushed on before he tried to storm out again. "I'm sorry about what happened to Laura. And I know that what Peter did wasn't right, but—but he was still your uncle, right? And I—I mean, I know that you killed him, and I know how hard that must have been for you, and I know that things have been crazy and—and—and I'm rambling…"

I held my hands over my face for a few seconds, breathing in the pungent smell of lemon-scented disinfectant. I was really struggling to think of something I could say that would get the increasingly murderous look off Derek's face and convey what I was actually trying to do. I took another deep breath.

"Okay, um…let me try that again. Derek. I know that the last couple months have been complete and utter shit. We've been running around trying to save one person after another, full moon after full moon, and I know that everything we've done is important, but…but it doesn't feel right that you didn't get to do anything for the Wolf Moon."

That seemed to get a reaction. At the very least, it shocked Derek out of his anger.

"What?"

"I know that it's supposed to be a big deal for the pack," I said quietly. "A celebration of the new year, feeding off each other's power, spending time with…with family…"

His jaw hung slack as he stared at me, floored. "How did you…?"

"Dr. Fenris mentioned it a while back—that expert Scott went to when we were still looking for a cure? I did a little more research after that. It sounds like a pretty nice time."

Derek's mouth snapped shut again. His eyes were fixed on the ground, his hands balling up into fists at his sides. His lips twitched, as if he were about to say something and then thought better of it.

I was still tugging at my fingers as I took another tentative step forward.

"Look…I know how hard it is. Losing family. Maybe I haven't lost as much as you, but…I still know what that's like. After I lost my dad…things aren't the same. You go through things and you wish they were, but they're not."

"What are you saying, Sadie?" Derek snapped.

"I'm just saying…" I got tired of looking at my anxious hands, and shoved them stubbornly into the pockets of my leather jacket. "I know you can't exactly strengthen your powers by hanging out with me, feed off my energy or whatever, but…I don't know. I thought that since we've kind of…hecked up the last couple full moons, and lost so much over the past few months, we could do something instead."

Derek continued to stare at me. He stood there, completely motionless and void of emotion, and just stared at me. And the longer he stared at me, the harder my heart seemed to be beating. I knew this had been a bad idea. Why would I think that Derek Stoic-and-Grumpy-and-I-Don't-Need-Anybody-Ever Hale would go for anything remotely sentimental?

"Seriously?" he asked at long last.

My head twitched in some kind of motion between a nod and a shake of my head.

"Yeah, I mean…I mean, you don't have to, I just thought…you know, since I don't know if you have anyone else to celebrate with—no, uh—" He rolled his eyes, and I fought to recover, rushing on, "I mean—look, I know it's not ideal, but I didn't—I didn't want you to feel like you were totally alone. I can't help you in the same way a pack can, but I told you I still wanted to help. I bought some stuff, and I came with offers of food and shelter, so—"

"Shelter?"

"Well, yeah. Last I checked, you were squatting in your half-burned house, but now that's been overrun by hunters. I thought you might need a new place to stay."

"What, here?"

He looked around incredulously, almost laughing. I folded my arms over my chest, digging my fingers into the leather as I grew more and more annoyed with his attitude.

"Look, I know it's not the Hilton, but you won't tell me anything and I am trying to help! It's close, it's abandoned, it's safe. It's just an idea. If you don't want it, don't use it. Now do you want a burger, or not?"

I glowered at him for a few seconds, but all I got in return was a glazed, passive look. I ground my teeth together and threw my hands up.

"Fine! I guess I'll just see you the next time someone's life is in danger. Have a nice life."

I stomped back into the train car and threw myself down into a random seat. I snatched some of the take out, took a vicious sip of tea from my travel mug, and plunged my hand into the paper bag in search of a burger. Whatever. He didn't bother me. I'd just use this place myself, somewhere new to keep Scott on lockdown instead of the middle of suburbia. Maybe I'd just come by myself to get some peace and quiet, make friends with raccoons. It didn't matter. I refused to let my time be wasted just because Derek had a huge fucking stick stuck up his—

"Fine."

I looked up to find Derek looming over me, one hand extended out expectantly. I could tell that he was trying to look casual, but he couldn't quite manage it. He wasn't looking at me; his eyes were darting all over the railcar, anywhere but my face. His lips were pulled into that familiar, grumpy cat frown, betraying that he was uncomfortable and out of his element. Derek Hale didn't do casual dinner encounters, and if he ever had, it had been a really long time.

"What?" I asked, still processing.

"You asked me if I wanted a burger. I said fine."

My shocked expression turned into a cautious smirk, then a wide smile. Derek narrowed his eyes at me, daring me to make a single comment about his behavior, but I simply nodded and let it be.

"Okay, then."

I pulled out one of the burgers and tossed it to him. He caught it with ease, grunted in thanks, and sat down in the chair across from me. I watched as he settled in, unwrapping his burger, biting half of in one go, and leaning his elbows forward on his knees. He chewed slowly, then caught me looking at him. I tried to keep my face innocent and passive as I took another sip of tea.

"What, I don't get a drink?" he remarked.

"There's a case of water bottles in the back if you're interested. I didn't know what to get you."

Derek huffed and pushed himself to his feet. He picked through the bags I'd arranged at the back of the railcar, looking through the blankets and sweatshirts, the paper towels and toothbrushes, all of the groceries. He located the pack of water bottles and sliced the plastic open with a solitary claw before yanking one of the bottles out.

We sat in silence for a few minutes. The most interaction we had was me nudging the bag of food across the floor between us to offer Derek a second burger. He waited until he was done with that before even trying to speak.

"How's your shoulder?"

"Fine," I answered. I shrugged the leather jacket off my shoulder, displaying the fading lines. "Surprisingly fine, actually."

Derek's eyebrows creased together. "Are…? Are you healing?"

"Well, yeah, obviously, but not like healing healing. It was a long month of stitches and bandages and pain killers. I would've sworn it was gonna scar, but…you can barely see it now."

"Since when?"

"Since…I don't know. I only noticed the last couple days."

"Last couple days like since the full moon?"

"I'm fine, Derek," I insisted, rolling my eyes. "You saw me that night. I was one hundred percent unaffected. I'm not turning. You don't need to worry about it."

The reassurance didn't seem to be reassuring him. He was still watching me vigilantly, as if he expected me to pounce at any moment. I thought I might do it just to scare him, but before I could, he rose from his seat and snatched my drink from my hand.

"Hey! What are you—"

He waved me off, unscrewing the cap and lifting the travel mug to his nose. His face scrunched up for a moment, and then he stared down at the drink in confusion. "Where did you get this?"

"Um…Target…?"

"Not the mug, Sadie. The tea. Where did you get the tea?"

"Oh, uh…Deaton."

Derek seemed to consider that for a moment, screwing the lid back on and tossing the nearly-empty mug back to me. "Well, that explains that."

"Explains what?" I asked as he returned to his seat across from me.

"The tea: bay leaves, fennel, camation, nettle, groundsel…"

"Ha. I didn't know you were a, uh, tea connoisseur."

"They're healing plants," he said, rolling his eyes, "and they're all in here. We used to give it to the human kids in the house, the ones who couldn't heal. That's probably why your shoulder's clearing up so well."

"Wait, so this is, what? Magic tea?"

"You got it from Deaton," Derek reminded me with a shrug.

I tipped my head to the side in ascent, and drained the rest of the drink. Guess I'd been right about the magic potion after all.

"Do you know what he is?" I asked Derek. "Does anyone?"

"Not really," he answered. "I've got a few ideas, but it's not my main concern right now."

I nodded, my thoughts straying back to Isaac. The corner of my thumbnail picked at the gap between my mug and the lid, but Derek interrupted my train of thought before my brain could go too far down the rabbit hole.

"You didn't have to get all that."

He nodded to the bags at the back of the railcar, as if I might not understand he was talking about the two or three hundred dollars' worth of supplies I'd brought.

"I know," I said softly. "It was just something I wanted to do."

"Why?"

"I figured it would make life a little easier for you, give you one less thing to worry about. Plus, I have a hard time picturing you at the supermarket, debating bread brands."

For a moment, it looked like he was going to grin, but it was a fleeting expression. He was already pensive again, his hands toying with the wrapper on his third burger as he considered me carefully.

"You feel responsible for him."

He didn't need to elaborate. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, busying myself with setting up the container of curly fries on the chair next to me. I had to toy with the cardboard to make it sit just right, then took my time selecting the longest fry I could find.

"Isaac's my friend."

"And you feel responsible for him," Derek reiterated, "but Sadie, this isn't your fault."

"How is this not my fault?" I snapped, lifting my head to glare. "You came to the hospital and asked me to join the pack. I said no, so you turned Isaac. Everyone just keeps getting hurt because I don't want the bite. Every time I say no, someone's life gets levelled."

"You couldn't have known his dad was going to die. None of us did."

"The Argents would've tried to kill Isaac either way! If you turned him to fight them, if you turned him to protect me, then that makes it my fault!"

"Would you stop being so self-absorbed?" Derek barked, climbing to his feet so he could yell down at me. "This isn't about you, Sadie! This is bigger than you! This is about me and Beacon Hills and—most importantly—Isaac! I told him the risks, and he made a choice. He knew exactly what he was signing up for."

"No, Derek, he didn't! That's the point!" I jumped to my feet too. He was still taller than me, and seemingly infinitely larger, but that didn't stop me from getting in his face. "You telling him and him knowing are two entirely different things! There is no way for him to understand what it's like to live his life endangered by hunters, men who are planning to cut him in half. He couldn't have imagined what it would be like to lose control on the full moon, or how many people he could have hurt. He didn't know that taking the bite meant going on the run and living in some car or the woods or wherever the hell you have him stashed right now. And how long is that gonna last, Derek? A few weeks? A couple months? How long are you gonna hide him away before you put him up against the Argents?!"

"What do you want me to do, Sadie?" he scowled. "Should I wait and do nothing? Just sit around and hope that more werewolves show up to lend a hand? Because I don't know if you heard, but the last one who wandered into Beacon Hills got cut in half! The Argents are preparing for war! If we don't fight, they kill us. If I'm gonna fight, I need a pack."

"I told you that I would—"

"It's not the same! You just said so yourself! Sadie, you know it's not the same!"

"Then how many?" I demanded. "How many teenager's lives do you need to ruin before you feel safe enough to face Gerard?"

"Ideally? Three."

"Three?!"

I laughed, a scathing, derisive sound that echoed beyond the railcar in the concrete room beyond. Derek growled, and while his eyes didn't turn red, I caught a flash of orange as he teetered on the edge of rage.

"It's about balance," he said through clenched teeth. "Unity, strength, and power."

"Oh trust me," I seethed, "I know it's about power."

"Fine! So I'm the bad guy! So I ruined his life! Should I have just left him where he was? You'd rather Isaac was still getting pushed around by his father?!"

"No! Derek, that's not what I—"

"You think it'd be better if he was still getting the shit kicked out of him and getting locked in a freezer every night?! Because this? This isn't easy, but it's a hell of a lot better than that!"

He kept roaring on, defending himself, but my mind had come to a complete stand still. I stared up at him with wide eyes, all the fight zapped out of me as one word repeated on a loop in by brain.

"Freezer…?"

Derek froze on the spot. He clenched his mouth shut and closed his eyes to escape my horrified gaze. I watched the fight seep out of him too, sagging where he stood.

"Scott didn't tell you."

He hadn't. Derek hadn't told me either. I could still remember their muffled voices on the phone, investigating Isaac's house, sure that the cops would blame Isaac for his father's death. And now I knew why. It wasn't just the physical beatings. It wasn't just the sharp demeaning comments that had picked away at Isaac's self-esteem. He'd been locked away, shoved into the smallest corner in a corner until he'd become compliant, until he'd become the shy, shadow of a person I picked up limping on the side of the road.

I suddenly remembered Isaac showing up to formal, his nails cracked and bloody. The image seared itself inside my eyelids. I had to sit down again; even the effort of standing was too much.

"I didn't…he…how…?"

Derek sighed, lowering himself across from me.

"There was an industrial one down in the basement. I don't know how often he…there were some holes punched in the top, a lot of scratches inside. Something like that…it leaves an impression. An emotional one, something you can feel as soon as you walk in. It's…"

"What?"

"I don't know what it is."

We sat with that, Derek averting his eyes as I tried to stop my shoulders from shaking. The picture inside of my mind was only growing clearer: Isaac, bruised and terrified, thrashing around in the dark and pleading for an escape. I tried to take a few deep breaths, but the extra oxygen only seemed to sharpen the picture. I bit down on the inside of my cheek, fighting to keep the water from spilling over my eyelids. I was so done with crying, and the absolute last thing I'd wanted to do was break down in front of Derek, of all people.

"Is that why you picked him?" I managed to ask after a few minutes.

Derek met my eyes briefly and gave a non-committal shrug. "Part of the reason. I found him working the graveyard shift, the night Lydia went missing. He was beat up, scared out of his mind, trapped in a ditch, so…I offered him a way out."

"Of the ditch?"

Derek narrowed his eyes at me, but he seemed to be done yelling for the moment.

"I wouldn't have offered it to someone who didn't need it. Someone who deserved it, would use it right."

"Is…that why you offered to bite me?"

He froze again, every muscle in his body tense. He looked away entirely before he answered.

"You're different."

And there it was again, that loaded silence, eating away at my stomach and filling the air with tension. Derek might as well have been a statue, a wax figurine of himself. He didn't move an inch, as if moving might draw attention to him, as if it might make me press the subject. He stared a hole into the wall and waited. Underneath his expressionless mask, I could tell that he was nervous, maybe even embarrassed.

I kicked the bag of take out closer to him as a peace offering, then tucked my legs beneath me so I was cross-legged on the bench. Derek shot me a tiny smile of gratitude, which I almost missed when I went to pick up the soda I'd bought. I let him settle into his food again, biding my time, but there was another question I wanted to ask, something that had been weighing on my mind for weeks.

"Can I ask you something?"

Derek looked up from his fourth burger and his eyebrows twitched up a fraction, indicating that I should go on.

"It's about the night of formal. Something that Peter said."

There was a beat as Derek took a violent bite out of his burger. I could almost imagine him pretending the poor sandwich was his uncle, ripping him apart and punishing him for everything he'd done all over again. Derek didn't speak, but he didn't move to stop me either, so I went on.

"He said that was the reason you were toying with me. That you were planning on turning me from the beginning because you thought I had some…natural talent."

"Not true," he said simply, glaring down at his burger.

"Okay," I conceded, "but you do think I have potential. You said that at the hospital."

"No, you do, but…" Derek's face screwed up in frustration. "Look, when I met you, I wasn't looking for a pack, okay? More werewolves was literally the last thing on my mind. Scott was causing enough trouble. I was only…I don't know, messing with you in the beginning."

"Because I'm stubborn, and you thought I'd figure it out," I recalled.

Derek tipped his head, but again, it was a non-committal action. It wasn't a yes or a no, just an acknowledgement that he'd heard me speak. If I wanted to, I could interpret that any way I wanted to. But I didn't want to interpret; I wanted Derek to tell me. I'd known him long enough now to know that he was being cagey. He played things close to the vest, but he never did something without reason. Leaving clues for me to follow had never felt like he just figured I'd find out eventually.

"Does…does this have anything to do with your family…?"

Derek's head shot up. His green eyes were wide, dark eyebrows pulled together in shock, anger, and a touch of sadness. I could only assume I'd hit the nail on the head.

"Sorry," I apologized automatically. "It was just…something else Peter said. He mentioned that I…reminded you of someone. Someone in your family, who was a werewolf, and that's why you…he was so interested in turning me."

I promptly shut my mouth, leaving Derek with plenty to think about.

Over the last few weeks, I had heavily considered the thought that Peter had been lying. Saying I was like family was just another part of his sales pitch, something to manipulate me into saying yes because I would think he had a noble cause. Now that Derek was in front of me, practically shaking at the thought, I had to wonder if it wasn't a little bit true after all. It would make sense, or explain why he was more comfortable with me at the very least, but I wasn't going to push him to talk about something so personal. He could lie and say it wasn't true, and I would go along with it if that's what he wanted. I'd already pushed my luck with the dinner date.

"Her name was Cora."

My head snapped up so quickly, I actually had to blink a few times for my vision to come back into focus. I hadn't been expecting a direct answer, not from someone like Derek. I held my breath, afraid that if I made any noise, he might change his mind.

Derek continued to stare into space, his hands clenched together in front of him.

"She was my younger sister. She would've been about your age now. Smart, stubborn. A little violent."

His lips pulled up a fraction, the flicker of a genuine smile, but it was gone as quickly as it came. I was almost ready to stop him from continuing. It was obvious that discussing his family was painful, and I didn't want him to be in pain. At the same time, I'd been dying to know more about the Hales ever since I'd given myself a tour of the house, since Dr. Fenris had shown us the picture of Derek's mother. If he was willing to talk, I was going to listen.

"She was only in elementary school, but you wouldn't have been able to tell if she wasn't so small. She always acted a lot older. She wanted to be independent, for people to take her seriously. She used to run after Laura and me, try to sneak into meetings with…my mom…"

He closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. Talking about his mother seemed to be too far for him, because he changed tactics.

"When I showed up to that party at the beginning of the year, I was just trying to make sure Scott wouldn't hurt his friends. I knew he'd be drawn to Allison, so I wanted to make sure she got someplace safe, and then…then you were snapping at me to back off. You stood up to me, and—it's not like I thought you were her, but…I don't know. You look like her, and there was just something about the way that you glared at me, trying to challenge me without showing that you were nervous…I guess it just reminded me of her. Always trying to be bigger than she really was."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment…?"

Derek chuckled, letting his head fall down to his chest before he nodded. "Yeah. It is."

I smiled and nodded in acceptance. I pulled my legs tighter beneath me, pushed myself up in the seat, sorted through the dwindling curly fries. I wasn't really sure how to continue the conversation without making him uncomfortable, but Derek took care of that for me.

"When I came back looking for Laura, I used to visit Peter in the hospital. Not a lot, but…once or twice. Doctors are always spewing that crap about how people in comas can still hear you and…I didn't really have anyone else to talk to. I told him about Laura, Scott, Stiles…the Alpha"—he shook his head in hindsight—"and I told him about you. I told him how you reminded me of Cora and…I'm sorry. I never would've said anything if I thought that any of this was going to happen."

"Derek, it's fine," I replied without hesitation. "You couldn't have known about any of this. It's not your fault."

The apology had caught me off guard. I knew that apologies were not something Derek issued often. I'd been lucky enough to receive a handful since I'd known him—some of them sarcastic—but I wasn't sure he'd said them to anyone else. I knew he was being sincere, but I wasn't looking for an apology.

"Besides," I added with a shrug. "I guess I didn't turn out too much like Cora after all. I didn't take the bite."

I'd been trying to hide the bitterness in my voice, but I didn't quite manage it. I knew I'd disappointed Derek by refusing to join the pack. Even if he meant well, he'd had expectations of me, and I'd failed to meet them. He'd just compared me to his little sister, and on some level, it made me feel even worse. I'd let him down. I almost felt like I'd let Cora down.

To my surprise, Derek smiled.

"I don't know about that. Cora was good—she learned to control her powers faster than the rest of us, she was fast—but she was born a werewolf. She always seemed so sure of who she was. She never complained that she wanted to be human or normal. It wasn't because she thought she was better, though. She just knew she was enough. I think if she'd been born human, she would've spent all her time proving that she could be just as helpful without the bite, that she didn't need claws to be strong."

He gave me a look of encouragement, but instead, my stomach dropped.

"I think Sadie's already demonstrated that she's capable of being a threat when she wants to be."

"Well, thanks," I muttered, "but I don't know how much I've helped the last few weeks…"

I looked down at my hands, trying not to picture the black gun between them, Kate's face on the other end, laughing at me as she bled out, screaming in pain as Peter bore down on her…

"You're not Kate."

I lifted my head again to see that Derek was glaring at me. Not his usual, rage-induced glare, but the one he sometimes gave Stiles when he was being particularly stupid.

I balked. "I didn't say—"

"You didn't need to," he cut me off. "I've seen what Kate can do. I know the kind of effect she had on people, how she operated, and trust me, you are not her."

"But she was me," I argued, hating every ounce of the desperation that seeped into my voice. "She used to believe in werewolves too, and then one wrong move, and she snapped. I almost shot Scott just because I could. I did shoot Kate just because I could! What's to stop that from happening again?! What if something happens, and I just—"

"Something already has happened. Scott nearly killed you, Peter nearly killed you, Isaac nearly killed you, and you're still going on shopping sprees trying to take care of us. You shot Kate, and you felt so bad about hurting her that you went to her funeral, despite the fact that you had to face the Argents."

I chewed my lip, fidgeting again. "You heard about that?"

"Scott told me," he explained shortly. "He's worried you're gonna get yourself killed."

"I won't. Allison's dad said that so long as I don't turn—"

"Chris isn't the one you need to worry about," Derek snapped. "Gerard is. When he killed that omega? He told his family that there is no code until they avenge Kate. If he finds out that you shot her, if he even thinks you had something to do with her death, then you're as dead as I am."

"I did have something to do with her death, Derek. If I hadn't shot her, then Peter might never have killed her. She might have lived."

"And if she did? How many of us would have died? Me? Scott? Do you really think Kate would've shown up to his funeral feeling guilty?"

My eyes sunk to the floor. I knew he was right; he wasn't the first to point out that Kate wasn't a good person, that she wouldn't have felt bad in my place, that she'd done a lot worse in her life. The problem was, I was still trying to decide if that mattered. Did Kate's crimes absolve me of mine?

"Sadie," Derek said, almost pleadingly. "You don't owe Kate anything. You're not Kate because you actually care, about everyone. And Kate never cared about anyone but herself. Take it from someone who knows."

He closed in on himself again, but this time, I was ready for it. I didn't know exactly what was happening in his mind, but I knew enough. I'd seen him react to Kate's name before, heard Kate talk about him. There was an edge to all of it that only pointed to one conclusion.

"You knew her."

Derek ground his teeth in answer. I wasn't going to ask him to elaborate. I also knew I didn't need to. If he was going to tell me, he would. If he wasn't, we could move on.

It took him a few minutes to get his face under control. Finally, he sighed and turned to face me dead on, squaring his shoulders and giving me his full attention.

"Kate was the kind of person who liked to play with her food. I guess I don't have to tell you that. The way she manipulated you takes practice, and…she's been practicing for a long time. She liked to watch people, get close to them, get inside their head so…she could enjoy the destruction that much more. When I first met her, I hated her…but…we'd been seeing each other for a couple months when the house burned down…"

I nodded, trying to stay calm. I imagined that, like Derek, I probably wasn't doing a very good job. I'd already figured as much, but it didn't make it any easier to hear. I wanted to scream and punch everything in reach. I wanted to cry. I wanted to hug him and apologize. And for a fleeting moment, I wanted to go back to the night of the formal and shoot Kate again. Maybe Stiles had been right. Maybe she did have it coming.

"Derek, I'm so s—"

"It doesn't matter," he said tersely. "You couldn't do that, so you're not Kate. That's it."

And for the first time since formal, I actually believed it.

I was too nervous to say anything after that. We lapsed into a dangerous, uncomfortable silence as Derek tried to bury the traumatic memories I'd dredged up. I wanted to distract him, but I didn't want to disturb him either. I'd learned a lot about Derek over the last few months, but not enough to know how he'd want to be treated in a situation like this. I tried to think of some neutral subject to keep the conversation moving, but everything I came up with sounded so lame and pathetic, I was afraid he'd just storm out.

The silence pressed on, malicious, waiting for us to crumble under the pressure. I was too weak to fight it. Thankfully, Derek was not.

"So. You and Stiles."

I lifted my head slowly, not sure whether I wanted to burst into laughter or tears. "Are you serious? Derek, we—we are so not having this conversation."

"Do you have a better idea?" he asked stiffly.

Obviously, I didn't. I knew we'd been suffering quietly, but Derek had to be seriously floundering if he was stooping so low as to ask me about my love life. I mean, to voluntarily make Stiles the topic of conversation, he had to be—

"Hold on," I said, narrowing my eyes at him. "How did you even know?"

Stiles and I hadn't really made any official announcement. Obviously Lydia and Allison had found out immediately. I could only assume Stiles had called Scott when he got home, maybe even from the car, and knowing the two of them, there was a good chance that Sheriff Stilinski and Mrs. McCall knew too. I couldn't imagine the news spreading any further than that.

"You're joking, right?" Derek deadpanned. "You two have always been excruciating around each other. The other night just felt different. So what happened?"

"Are you actually being serious right now?"

Derek shrugged, nodding for me to go on and eating half of his next burger in one bite. Even as he chewed, I could see him smirking.

I hesitated, considering him. It wasn't that I didn't want Derek to know about me and Stiles. Derek and I were close as we could be, all things considered. I trusted him, and I valued his opinion. We were sitting together in an abandoned railcar because I wanted him to know he had someone who cared about him, like he was family.

In a way, I did think of Derek like a brother, but not in the same way I saw Scott. Scott was like a sibling I spent all my time with—a brother who always understood me, who was always ready to help, whether that meant saving my neck or being a shoulder to cry on. Derek was…not. Derek was like an older brother I hardly ever agreed with, someone I fought with but who was still ferociously determined to protect me. Derek was the older brother you might pummel any guy who got within a mile of me, ready with a shotgun at the door. Or in this case, poised claws.

So it wasn't that I didn't want to tell Derek what happened. It just felt…awkward. I wasn't sure how I felt about Derek thinking about me kissing someone. I wasn't sure what the outcome would be for said someone. Especially considering that Derek already had a hard time dealing with Stiles.

"Well…you left with Isaac, and Stiles and I had to clean up the mess. He was…talking…a lot…"—Derek snorted, which I pointedly ignored—"and so…I kissed him. To shut him up."

"And that's it?" he asked his burger.

"Well, his dad sort of found us like that in the holding cells. That was an awkward conversation. And an awkward ride home. Then he stopped me in the driveway and he asked me out."

"He kiss you again?"

"No, he did not kiss me."

Technically, that was true. I had kissed Stiles, but I hadn't allowed for any reciprocation.

"Where is he taking you?"

"I don't know, Derek. And honestly, why do you care?"

He tilted his head and drained his water bottled before speaking.

"Because I think he's an idiot, and if he does something stupid and screws up, I'm gonna kill him."

I grinned against my will, shaking my head. "I'd actually prefer if you didn't do that."

"Yeah," he said, with a soft chuckle. "No, you're right. I'm not too worried though."

"You're…not?"

"No. If he makes one wrong move, he's gonna have to deal with a line of angry people ready to kill him. And I'm not even at the front."

"Oh really?" I giggled. "And who is?"

Derek grinned, an actual smile for once. Not a smug smirk. Not a charming grin he'd concocted to flirt with an unsuspecting woman. It was a genuine smile, and for a moment, I was baffled.

"You are."

I burst out laughing, throwing my head back an nearly banging my head on the window. I could hear Derek laughing too, and it just made the entire situation seem even more impossible. I was sitting with an Alpha werewolf in an abandoned railcar on the edge of town, and after fifty bucks worth of take out, an anxious cleaning spree, and a conversation about everything that had ever gone wrong in our lives, we were sitting here chatting about my love life. It was unbelievable.

"It's getting late," Derek noticed a few minutes later. "You should probably head home."

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and winced, noticing the time. Mom probably wouldn't give me too much trouble, seeing as I was supposed to be with Stiles, but I still didn't want to push my luck.

I pushed myself to my feet, consolidating all my garbage and dropping the bag on a seat by the door. My feet scuffed along the floor as I walked back to grab my purse, one hand sliding needlessly over the shopping bags as if I were double-checking that I'd bought everything I'd intended to. In reality, I was stalling. I wasn't quite sure how I was supposed to duck out now, after everything that had been said.

"So, um…do you need help with these bags or—"

"It's fine. I got it."

"Are you sure? Because I can always return some stuff if you don't—"

"Sadie," he cut me off, standing from his seat. "I got it."

I smiled, nervous for some reason, and ran a hand through my hair. "Right. So, I guess I'll just…see you around."

Derek nodded and stepped to the side, letting me pass in front of him so he could follow me out.

"Sadie," he said again, just as I passed him. "Um…thanks. For doing this. You didn't have to."

"I know," I replied. "That's what family's for."

His face stretched into that sincere smile again and I quickly continued past him. I really did need to get home, and the more I looked at the genuinely happy Derek Hale, the harder that seemed to do.

I hopped out of the door of the railcar and landed on the cluttered, cement floor outside. I was grinning down at my shoes, which was probably why I nearly ran headlong into the only other person in the room.

"Sadie?"

I squealed, jumping back and nearly wiping out on an abandoned tire. Isaac reached out to steady me, then retracted his hand in fear just as I grabbed for it, and I nearly fell over again. He grimaced, both hands hovering awkwardly as if in surrender.

"Sorry! Uh—uh, sorry. I'm…hi…"

"Hi," I panted, kicking the tire in retaliation. It didn't make me look any more composed, but it did help me expel some of the nervous energy. "How are you—what are you doing here?"

"Um, D-Derek texted me." Isaac pulled his phone from his pocket and held it up as proof. "He said we were moving to a new location."

"Text…? How did you even get here?"

He opened and closed his mouth once or twice, eyes darting over my shoulder and then back to "I…drove Derek's car?"

He reached into his other pocket and pulled out a familiar set of keys. He tossed them over my shoulder, where Derek caught them with ease. He stepped up behind me, standing just behind my shoulder so he could dangle the keys in my face.

"See? Responsible."

I repressed a snort, shaking my head as he retreated to the railcar.

Isaac was still fidgeting incessantly in front of me. All the confidence he'd had when he met me at my locker was gone. This. This was the Isaac I knew: shifty, shy, nervous. It was almost reassuring. I knew how much had changed about him, but he was still the same boy.

"How are you?" I asked when he refused to speak.

"Me? I'm…um…okay. How, um…how—how are you?"

"I'm doing okay. Thanks."

"Good." He nodded for a for a few seconds, wringing his hands together. "Sadie, I am…so, so sorry about what happened the other day. I—I never meant for anyone to get hurt—you or Stiles or—"

"Isaac, it really is fine. It was your first full moon, and you had no idea what you were getting yourself into. Stiles and I have dealt with that before."

"All of that?" Isaac asked skeptically.

"Okay, not all of that," I laughed. "The hunter and the jail cell were new, but I have seen werewolves lose control. And if it makes you feel any better, you were much less of an asshole than Scott was the first time round."

Isaac managed a smile, and quickly ducked his head. I watched him for a few seconds, allowing myself to relax. I felt better now that I knew where he'd be staying. I still wished that he wouldn't have to go through it all—being hunted, attempting to control himself, living full time with Derek—but that couldn't be helped at this point. The most I could do was offer my help, and make sure that his new life was marginally better than the one he'd been living with his father.

"Look, I've gotta head home," I told him, "but there's some stuff for you and Derek inside: food, blankets, sweatshirts and whatever. I just got the basics, but if you need anything else, just text me, okay?"

Isaac stood there dumbfounded, staring at me with an expression I could only describe as awe. "You want me to—I mean, you bought—um—yeah, thanks, uh…thank you…"

"No problem, Isaac."

I smiled, patting his shoulder as I walked past and then jogging up the stairs.

"Uh, S-Sadie?" he called after me. "I—I actually don't…have your number."

"Oh," I said with a smile. "You can just ask Derek for it."

Isaac promptly clamped his mouth shut. He seemed terrified by the thought of asking his Alpha for a girl's phone number.

I smirked, lifting my hand in a wave and quickly ducking out into the night outside. If nothing else, Isaac was smart enough to be appropriately scared of his new Alpha. Maybe he'd be able to survive after all. Maybe we all could.