Chapter 7: The Stalker II

Joe did not talk to Scott when he eventually got home. His anti-climatic attempt at a joke back at the clinic left her deflated. Instead of acknowleding what had happened and how much emotional toll it took on her, she devoted herself to work, a nice trick she'd learned from her father. Other students' work, luckily, not her own. She did not feel up for explaining societal mass-delusions just yet, it hit too close to home.

Every time her mind started to creep into questions of what had happened, she angrily turned up her music in her headphones and buckled down on her grading. Her hair hung limply around her face after the fast shower she felt compelled to when she had gotten home.

A couple of hours after midnight, she had to get up and stretch her entire body. Too much time sitting in front of the PC, on top of the tension of when she thought Derek was dying-

Ah, there it is. Acknowledge or compartmentalize? Should she allow herself to admit how much it had affected her? How her lungs clamped up and she literally thought her heart would burst when she saw his lifeless, still body? Joe scoffed in the darkness. When did she get so soft? She did not even know the guy!

She took Psych 101 back in the day, but it could not explain what an emotional wreck she became back at the clinic. And the Human Physiology class she had signed up for when she still wanted to be a doctor could not explain how Derek's infection cleared up in the matter of minutes. She had heard about phantom pregnancies and how the body would respond in case of severe delusions of the person, but phantom injuries?

"Okay, bedtime," she muttered and turned off the PC, leaving her room dark. If she was going to have any chance of fixing her circadian rhythm she needed to force herself to sleep. It took a couple of seconds for her eyes to recover after the harsh artificial light from the computer screen, but it stabilized enough for her to move around the room without any issues. She'd always had good night vision.

Even the outdoor lamps were off, she realized, and it was completely pitch black both inside and out. She paused in front of the window. It faced the unkept backyard of the McCall-house that made a seamless transition to the forest and she rarely bothered with closing the curtains because no-one was ever back there. Except now she could swear she saw some red glowing dots. Like a pair of eyes... or the small recording lights of a camera.

The second she focused on the lights, they moved.

"Hey!" she shouted on instinct and tore out of her room, down the stairs, through the kitchen and out the back door. Because she had to double track back to pick up a large flashlight that they kept under the sink, by the time she reached the backyard, the lights were gone. Feeling stupid, she sniffed the air a bit, in case she could detect that particular eau de Derek. Nothing. She was not sure if that warranted relief or not.

So quiet outside. It was almost like those moments before the deer herd passed through. No sounds from the forest at all, not even the crickets chirping like they usually did all night. She triangulated the spot where she'd seen the lights based on the view of her bedroom window and used the flashlight to light up the ground and surrounding bushes. Something had torn up the moss in their haste to get away. It was impossible to say if it was human or animal, or which direction they'd gone.

Someone or something had been here.

Watching her...

Okay, so she might be paranoid, but she had the right to be! After that anonymous delivery a while back? Someone had to be watching her somehow to even know she was interested in the case. Who was to say they weren't watching through her window? Recording her, even.

Shuddering, and not because of the cold, she headed back to the house and got inside. The rational thing to do was call the police. Still looking back towards the woods, she leaned against the door and made sure it was locked. It could be her mind playing tricks on her, a common reaction after a stress-episode. She just could not shake the feeling that when she had looked at those red glows, something was looking back.

"Joe, are you okay?"

"AH!" Joe jumped around and put an arm out to keep Scott at bay while she caught her breath. He was obviously still half-asleep with all of his hair standing up on one side. "Jesus Christ, don't do that!"

"Sorry," he whispered and came to stand next to her by the door. "Something wrong?"

"No, I just...I just thought I saw something," Joe explained lamely. Stress, lack of sleep, paranoia...No need to worry Scott. "Just a raccoon."

"Right," Scott murmured and kept staring out the window. The night outside did not reveal anything else. When he finally tore his eyes away, he gave Joe a full once-over. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just running on fumes," she admitted and grabbed his arm to get them both out of the kitchen. "And you couldn't have gotten much sleep last night, so I say we take advantage of the weekend and sleep in tomorrow."

Scott let out a sleepy laugh and let her drag him upstairs. "Sounds fine by me."

The feeling someone was watching her did not subside the next day. She kept the curtains closed on her bedroom and shut herself off from the outside world. She dug deep on her paper and tried to find more literature to support her claims. What she ended up with was a little bit of both.

A lot of so-called scientists in the early 1900s seemed to have a lax attitude separating between fiction and fact. Diagnosing someone as being possessed was not unheard of back in those days, and a lot of published papers discussed were-creatures, because it was not just wolves, as an everyday occurrence. If she went back further, the questions revolved around whether or not these creatures of the night actually had a soul and if they were to be considered animals with human tendencies or humans with animalistic tendencies. It was the way the discussion was so matter-of-factly, no controversy of whether or not they were real, just how to classify them that made it a chilling read.

An e-mail notification popped up and she ignored it, thinking it was probably just one of the students panicking over the mid-terms coming at alarming speed. She completed her literature survey and made a list of the books she would need to physically check out from the library. Some had to be ordered from neighbor universities, and some were in French — she made another note to try and find a translated version.

She opened her e-mail again to send a request to Professor Kane, and noticed the unread e-mail from before. No sender, no subject, just a timestamp. Her cursor hovered over the trashcan-symbol, it had to be a phishing attempt or a virus. In a split second decision, she clicked to open it. No text, just a single image of what looked to be a transcripted 911-call. The date and time claimed it to be less than an hour old. Another animal attack, the video store in downtown Beacon Hills. Comparing the timestamp on the transcript versus the one of the e-mail itself they were less than five minutes apart.

"Caller claims to be student at Beacon Hills High..." she read and her thoughts immediately went to Scott and Stiles. It was not unusual for them to rent a scary movie on Saturday night. Panic tightened around her spine and she dashed into Scott's room. "Scott?"

No answer, no Scott.

More than a thousand students went to Beacon Hills High, but she had this intense feeling she just could not shake. Pacing in Scott's room, she made up her mind and went downstairs and tried calling both Scott and Stiles from the old-school Nokia she had to use until she could afford to fix the cell-phone Stiles broke. No answer from either of them. If this was another animal attack, the Sheriff was definitely working the scene, so it was not surprising that she went to voicemail at the Stilinskis too. Damn it.

She grabbed her coat and was out the door less than a minute later. Worst case, she would just get some insight on the attack site. Actually, worst case, Scott or Stiles was the one who had been attacked. Not that she allowed herself to consider that scenario as she drove a bit faster than legally allowed down to the city center.

The ambulance and police cars were still by the store, although one ambulance drove off just as she got there. A whole crowd had gathered outside the police tape, another human reaction to just having to see what was going on. She spotted Kim from the Beacon Post trying to get a statement from one of the deputies, while further back, the Sheriff was talking to a pair of high-schoolers that was definitely not Scott and Stiles.

"Thank God," Joe muttered and let herself breathe again. She vaguely recognized the pair from the lacrosse matches, the boy might have been the captain and the girl his girlfriend. There was still the last person who had been picked up by the ambulance already, but Scott and Stiles came as a package-deal and you rarely saw one without the other.

Stiles popped up next to her, mouth full of curly fries. "Joe?"

"Stiles!" Joe's panic rushed back and she looked between Stiles and the direction the ambulance had driven. "Scott? Is he-"

"Not here!" Stiles rushed to explain, accidentally spraying her with bits of curly fries. "I was just having dinner with my dad and he got this call so..."

"But if he's not with you, then where is he?" Joe still had a tight knot in her stomach, the feeling that something was wrong. Looking at the scene, it was hard to believe it had been an animal. The entire window display was reduced to shattered glass and the inside of the video store looked more like an earthquake had torn through there.

"Uh, at home?"

Joe threw her hands up. "I just came from home!"

"Okay, okay, then I don't know!" Stiles shouted back. "Maybe he's with Allison? Have you tried calling him?"

"Of course I tried calling him, you..."

She never got to the name calling. Something in the air, a whiff of a familiar scent, made her turn her head towards the roof of the video store. Empty. She could have sworn it smelled like Derek, but as she spun around, he was of course nowhere to be seen.

"You...?" Stiles prompted as if he was genuinly curious to what she was going to call him, but she shushed him and scanned the rooftop again. Nothing.

Joe sighed and rubbed her face. "Jesus, I'm losing it." Stiles had to be right, Scott was probably with his girlfriend, who she and Aunt Mel had yet to meet. Joe gestured to the video store. "What the hell happened?"

"Mountain lion," Stiles said with an innocent shrug. He smiled even brighter when she gave him a disbelieving glare. "What do you want me to say? Werewolf attack?"

"Ugh, just forget it," she muttered and rubbed her eyes. Stiles still looked at her expectantly and she resisted the urge to smack him upside the head. "Who else was here? I saw an ambulance take off."

"Video store clerk," Stiles answered instantly, but looked over his shoulder in case anyone else was listening in. "Overheard one of the EMTs. He was DOA - dead on arrival."

"Any criminal history?"

Joe grimaced the second she asked the question - she'd sounded just like her dad and Stiles did an elaborate shrug as to how should he know.

"Do you think an animal cares about a criminal history?" he questioned with a nervous laugh. He had a point. Joe just got the feeling that these attacks were targeted, not random, which meant an animal couldn't be responsible. Maybe a hitman, one who really knew how to cover his tracks? Or maybe it really was like Bedburg, where a serial killer was at large and claimed insanity in form of lycanthropy. Laura Hale, a bus driver and a video store clerk. Different ages, different ethnicities, no obvious links.

"You need a ride home?" she asked Stiles, figuring the Sheriff would still be busy for a while longer and the Jeep was nowhere in sight. He admitted he could use one and they got back into the Ford Fiesta, parked a bit away from the crowd.

She had picked up Scott enough times to know the way to Stiles' house. When they got out of the shopping district, she cleared her throat. "Those two kids who were there...you know them?"

Stiles snorted and his mood seemed to sour. "Yeah, everyone knows them. Jackson's the captain of the lacrosse team and a raging asshole. Lydia Martin is..." He sighed wistfully, looking out the window. "God's custom-made, special edition, one of a kind gift to mankind."

Joe's eyebrows rose high and she glanced over at the teenager sulking in the passenger seat. Stiles might have some issues focusing at times, but when he did, he went all in. Looks like that was true for his high-school crush too.

"Look, I know how you're feeling." Joe swallowed at the uncomfortable role of trying to be compassionate. Stiles gave her a panicked look and she hastily elaborated: "When I was in high-school, I had a best friend, and then halfway through Sophomore year she got a boyfriend. And, you know, teenage love is intense. She seemed to always be with him and never have time for me anymore and it sucked."

"So...what'd you do?"

Joe made a face. "I ended up dating his best friend just so we could all hang out as a group. And apparently dating me made him realize he was actually gay and he dumped me the night before prom."

"Gee, thanks for the pep-talk," Stiles muttered and sank further down into his seat.

"I just...Scott's still your friend, okay? Give him a few weeks to get his hormones in check and he'll get his head out of his ass and feel bad for neglecting you."

Stiles snorted and said something under his breath that sounded like: "Yeah, well, he's got less than a week to get his hormones in check." He returned to stare out the window and Joe focused on the road. After a while, Stiles coughed. "Uh, Joe?"

"Yeah?"

"Is it just me or has that car been trailing us for a while now?"

Joe immediately checked the rearview mirror, half expecting to see Derek Hale's dark sportscar. Instead it was an unmarked sedan of unknown make. They've had a car behind them the whole way home, but she had not been paying attention if it was the same one all along.

"Make a right," Stiles ordered and Joe made a sharp turn, derouting them from the way to Stiles' house. Stiles unbuckled his seat belt and turned fully around to stare out the window. "He's still here. Make a right at the next intersection."

"Do you know the car?" Joe asked. She made the turn, even sharper than before, and sure enough, the sedan followed.

"No, I don't think so. Make another right, now!"

She did not have time to use the turn signal and wrenched the car over. "Where are we headed?"

"Three right turns makes no sense, we're practically driving in circles," Stiles explained without looking away from the road behind them. "And that means they're definitely following us. Look!"

Joe checked the mirror and saw the car had followed, albeit at a further distance, as if they'd missed the last turn. "Uh, okay, so what do we do now?"

"Do you want to stop and confront him? Or her?"

"No! Should we call the police?"

"No!" Stiles burst out and urged Joe to speed up. "Let's shake him off! Left here!"

She bit her teeth together and made the almost impossible turn, sending Stiles flying over the dashboard. "Put your seatbelt on, idiot!"

"Yes, ma'am!" he conceded and fumbled to get back in place.

"And hold on!" Joe put one hand on the gear-stick and tried to breathe. She hoped the Ford was up for this. One glance at the mirror confirmed the car still tailed them. "Shit!" If they were lucky, all available patrols were at the video store. She did not have the cash for a speeding ticket right now.

The chase began.

Joe did not usually speed excessively, especially not in populated areas. Stiles shouted directions to her, left, left, right, left again, and when they were met with a yellow light, going red, he screamed at her to put the pedal to the metal.

"Go, go, go!" he yelled and they ran the red light screaming, hoping a semi wouldn't crush them from the side. "Now turn off your lights and speed up!"

"Are you insane?" Joe demanded. They were out of the city - no streetlights, no traffic. "I can't drive without seeing!"

"There's all these side roads here, if we can take one of them without being seen, we'll lose him!"

"Okay, but how do you propose I'll make the turn without driving us into the ditch?"

"I'll tell you when to turn!"

"You have got to be kidd-"

"Lights off, Joe! NOW!" Stiles voice turned hoarse with effort and Joe could not believe she was doing this, but she turned her headlights off. The sedan after them was too far behind to be of any help and the road was invisible out through the windshield. She knew this stretch was straight, but it took some effort to even hold the steering wheel in place.

"Stiles?" she asked with gritted teeth.

He had opened his window and stuck his head out. "Not yet!"

"STILES!"

"Not yet!"

"GOD DAMN IT, STILES!"

"NOW! TURN!"

"Aaaragfh!" she yelled and made the turn at an almost 90 degree angle, hoping she would still be on the road when straightening up. One of the wheels bounced off the shoulder, but she managed to keep the car going straight, as per Stiles' directions.

"Okay, slow down." Stiles hang out of the window, watching both the road ahead and behind them. "Keep the lights off, I think we lost him."

"Of all the stupid ideas-"

"It worked, didn't it?" Stiles snapped, his voice a loose entity in the dark. "Veer slightly to the left here, there should be place to turn around."

"I hate this, I hate this, I hate this," Joe chanted, but did as told. Her night vision had stabilized slightly so she could see a faint outline of the road, and what looked like some sort of building up ahead. Or at least half a building. "Jesus Christ, Stiles, what are we doing here?"

"Sorry, it's the only route I know by heart."

She pulled up next to the Hale house. It had been creepy in the daytime, but it was downright terrifying at night. An empty shell of a house with doors leading nowhere and smashed window panes. Once a stately brick mansion that housed a large extended family, now county-owned ruins. Joe would not have spent a night there for a million dollars, even if she hadn't known its gruesome backstory. Surrounded by the wild forest on all sides, the wind flapping at torn curtains — if she stared long enough, she could have sworn she saw shadows moving inside.

Joe cut the engine and it left her and Stiles alone with only the sound of their breathing. "We'll wait here a while, so we're sure it's safe to drive back."

"Sure, let's just..." Stiles rummaged around to get comfortable. "Let's just camp outside this dark and empty house where eight people burned to death and a girl's torso was buried. Definitely not haunted."

"You are so not helping," Joe muttered and resisted the urge to turn on any lights. "Five minutes, then we're go-"

"Did you see that?" Stiles hissed from somewhere beside her. "There, there it is again!"

Joe's heart thumped harder in her chest and she leaned forwards to get a better view of the Hale mansion. It was too quiet. "It's probably just bats or something."

A shadow passed by one of the windows and it felt like someone ran ice down her spine. It had a definite humanoid shape. She and Stiles both held their breaths in anticipation. Joe slowly began reaching for the key still in the ignition.

Stiles' voice sounded thick. "Did you see..."

"Yes," she breathed and tried to rationalize why someone would be rummaging around in a burnt down house in the middle of the forest in the middle of the night. "Could just be a squatter."

"Could be a serial killer."

"That is highly unlikely," she said, although her inner thoughts reminded her that it was not impossible. They sat transfixed in the car, staring at the window, waiting for any more movement. Every shadow seemed to grow arms and legs and heads and they deepened every time the waxing moon peeked through the clouds.

"We should go," Joe whispered.

Stiles murmured his consent and Joe prepared to get the car running at record speed. She pushed down the clutch and brake and quickly turned the ignition. Instead of the steady rumble, the engine hacked and coughed.

"Oh no, no, no," Joe mumbled, let the key go and tried again. The engine spat out a sound like a scratchy machine gun, but it never fired up. She knew that car chase would kill her car! "Shit, shit, shit!"

"Sounds like a bad starter."

"No shit?!" Joe snapped and jammed the key around again, as if pure force from her side would ignite the fuel and get the engine running.

"Uh, Joe?"

"What, Stiles?"

The car let out a new series of rat-tat-tat-tat. Joe swore in all languages she knew and hit the steering wheel. Piece of shit! She jumped when Stiles shook her arm to get her attention. He wordlessly pointed to the house where the front doors were wide open.

"Start the car, Joe."

"I'm trying!"

"Start the car, start the car, start the-"

"AAAH!"

Something thumped on the driver side window. Joe screamed and tried to leap over to Stiles' side. Stiles shrieked in her ear and he scrambled to open the door to get out, while Joe clawed at her seatbelt to get loose.

The figure outside hit the window again: "Joe!"

She and Stiles froze.

"Was that..."

"Scott?" Joe squinted at the dark figure, where she could just make out a mop of dark hair and a slightly off-center jaw. It was Scott.

She and Stiles fought their way out of the car — she had gotten her seatbelt stuck over the gearstick and trapped his leg in it as well. Out in the open air she threw her arms around Scott and hugged him.

"Scott! Oh, thank God!" She put both hands on his shoulder and held him at arms' bay to confirm that it really was her very own baby cousin in the flesh and not some demonic entity that just looked like him. He smiled and she decided no demon could look that goofy. The smile vanished when she smacked him on the head. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" Scott countered. He held both her wrists to keep her from hitting him again, and looked between her and Stiles if either of them had answers. For some reason, he focused on Joe and furrowed his brows in concentration. "Joe, are you okay? Your heartbeat is going crazy."

Joe's eyebrows rose. "My heartbeat?" she repeated slowly and took a step back from him. "My heartbeat is going crazy?"

"We were chased by a car," Stiles interjected from his position hanging over Joe's car door.

"What kind?"

A new surge of terror gripped Joe's insides at the sight of Derek Hale standing in the opening to the Hale house. His arms were folded, but he looked everything but relaxed.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Joe hissed to Scott and gestured to the house where Derek Hale stood still as a statue.

"I'll explain later," Scott promised hastily and ignored her exasperated expression. "What kind of car was it?"

"A sort of murky green sedan," Joe said at the same time as Stiles answered: "A 2008 Nissan Sentra."

The guys all looked at her and she shrugged. "What? I'm not into cars."

"All of the Argents drive pick-ups or SUVs," Scott told Derek who nodded slowly as if that piece of information was somehow relevant. It wasn't for Joe. Scott turned back to her and Stiles. "Are you sure it was following you?"

"Uh, yes!" Stiles exclaimed with an exaggerated arm gesture. "Unless whoever it was also decided to cruise the entire town in spirals and follow us out to the Preserve. We only shook him by killing the lights on our way here."

Scott was lost in thoughts, but eventually asked: "Did he follow you all the way from the video store?"

Joe noticed Derek groan and cover his face with one hand. It took a few seconds before she made the connection herself.

"How did you know we were at the video store?"

Scott's eyes widened and he kept glancing at Stiles as if he was going to be any help. Joe took a step to the side to force herself into his line of vision.

"Scott? How did you know we were at the video store?"

"Uh..." Scott realized he was not getting out of this one and his voice was small when he admitted: "We were sort of there."

"You were sort of there?" Joe repeated incredulously. We, he had said. Scott and Derek Hale. She blinked a few times and turned to point an accusing finger at Derek Hale. "You were on the roof!" Spinning around to face Scott again, she threw her arms up. "Why were you on the roof?! What is going on, Scott?"

"Look, I tried telling you-"

"Oh my God, not the werewolf thing again!"

Scott started talking faster. "The so-called animal attacks? They aren't animal attacks, they're werewolf attacks! And the same Alpha that's been killing people bit me when me and Stiles went out in the - Jesus!"

Joe used her phone flashlight to shine into his eyes and he recoiled from the brightness. "Are you on drugs?"

"No, Joe!" Scott tried to shield his eyes with his arms.

"I'm serious, Scott McCall," Joe said and tried to study his pupile dilation. "Are - you - on - drugs?"

"No!" Scott pushed her phone away and blinked rapidly. His eyes shone, almost like the light had left a yellow afterglow. "I swear to God, Joe, werewolves are real and I am one!"

Joe could not physically roll her eyes further back into her head and was going to ask him to prove it. She never got the time, as Derek suddenly appeared next to them.

"Car," he said simply, staring out down the dark stretch of road. A pair of headlights were barely visible through the foliage. He gave Joe a sideways glance. "A sort of murky green sedan."

There was no way he was able to tell the color from this distance, he was just being an ass. She extended her middle finger to him. "Bite me."

Joe saw the slight twitch at Derek's lips, but he ignored her and told them to get inside and: "Hide."

"But my car..."

Too late. Scott had already grabbed her arm and practically carried her inside. They huddled together behind one of the few intact windows in what must have been a living room of some sorts. Or at least Joe and Stiles huddled, while Scott and Derek sat ready to spring into action. Derek especially; he had one knee on the floor and held his balance with just his fingertips, watching through the window. The moldy air tickled the back of Joe's throat and she fought to keep from coughing.

The headlights of the arriving car shone into the house, highlighting the dust and ash that covered every surface. The light flashed off of Derek's eyes, making it seem like they glowed a bright blue instead of his regular light green.

"Stay down," he murmured, while he himself crept along the hallway and out of sight. They did no such thing of course, and gripped the window frame to peer outside. It was the same car as before, a 2008 Nissan whatever. It stopped next to Joe's car, where both driver and passenger door still stood wide open. No one got out of the car and they never stopped the motor.

"What're they doing?" asked Stiles, while Joe and Scott hissed at him to stay quiet. "What? Do you think they've got superhearing or something?" Joe didn't catch whatever look Scott sent him, but Stiles deflated and said a very hushed whisper: "Oh, right."

What were they doing? Joe tried to be careful not to poke her head up too high where the headlights would reveal her silhouette. The car just sat there. The lights directed straight at them made it impossible to see who was inside the car - or how many there were. She also did not stand a chance to see the license plate number.

"Derek's on the roof," Scott whispered. He had his head tilted a bit sideways, as if he was listening intently. Joe was beginning to worry he wasn't kidding about being a werewolf, he actually believed it. Could Derek have been brainwashing him into believing it was real? Sort of a mass delusions kind of deal?

Even if Derek was on roof, Joe failed to see how that was in any way helpful. She gently pulled out her old Nokia. "We should call the cops."

"No!" both Scott and Stiles hissed. Stiles of course reached for her phone, but she held it in a death grip and pinched the thin skin of his inner arm. He made a croaking sound to suppress a scream and let go off her phone. Even in the dark, she could make out the very indignant "Ow!" he mouthed while he rubbed his arm.

She angled the phone towards the floor so the light wouldn't be so obvious, and pressed the 9-button. Scott put his hand over her phone gently.

"Wait."

Before she could ask what for, she got her answer. Derek Hale came swooping down through the air and landed ontop of the unfamiliar car with a bang. He had jumped from the rooftop! How he managed it without breaking his legs or wrists was anyone's guess.

The car instantly revved up — even Joe could tell that they were frying the timing belt. It kicked into reverse and tossed up gravel in its wake. The momentum threw Derek off the roof and he and the car went separate ways. Too fast for the eyes to follow, Derek somehow twisted in the air so he landed on all fours on the ground instead of his back. He sprang up and faced the car that backed up from the driveway. Joe envisioned it changing direction and hitting him full force.

It didn't. The car continued backing up at alarming speed and did a complete 180 any professional rally driver would have been proud of before it shot out of there. Derek stood wide-legged in the driveway, watching it leave.

Whoever it had been in that car, they weren't tough enough to take on Derek Hale. That probably meant it was just the driver in the car. Derek Hale was probably plenty dangerous, he had toned muscles Joe didn't even know the name of, but he was still just one guy.

When it became clear the car was not returning, she and the boys ran out of the house. She was glad to escape the suffocating atmosphere. Stiles went straight of the tire-tracks, using his phone to get a better look.

"You already know what kind of car it is," Joe pointed out, but he seemed adamant on checking it out. She turned to Derek instead. "Did you get a look at the driver?"

His nostrils flared when he looked at her, as if she had said something insulting. It was not until he looked away he seemed able to compose himself enough to answer. "No. But I got the license plate."

Stiles bounced up at that, ready to type it in his phone. He repeated each digit: "14A1534?" Stiles' face fell. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Derek snarled. "Why?"

Stiles frowned, looking down at his phone, while Joe sighed and explained: "It's fake."

"What? How do you know?"

"It's the wrong format. Two numbers before a letter is for motorcycles. Cars have one number before three letters." Stiles put his phone away with a defeated huff. "It's useless."

"Stiles is right." Joe rolled her head backwards to release some of the tension. "We'll have more luck tracing the make of the car, except that we don't have access to the DMV's records."

"Do you have any idea who could be following you? Or why?" Scott asked, and Joe realized he was asking her specifically. At least Derek had the decensy to look away when she subconsciously glanced at him, as he would ordinarily have been her first guess.

"Why do you think they were after me?" she scoffed and gestured to Stiles. "Could just as well have been Stiles they wanted."

Stiles looked up like a deer caught in the headlights. He pressed a hand to his torso in disbelief. "Me? What did I do?"

"I don't know! What did I do?" Joe shot back while throwing her hands up in defeat.

"They might have been following you to get to Scott." Stiles recoiled at the incredulous look Joe shot him. "What? They might have?"

Joe looked between all three of them. "Why would they be after Scott?"

Derek sighed and muttered something that might have been: "Here we go." He left their small circle to sit atop of Joe's hood, content with being a spectator apparently.

"Because," Scott said with feigned patience. "As I have been trying to tell you-"

"I swear to God, Scott, if you start with that werewolf-crap again..."

"It's the truth! Oh my God, Joe, how stubborn can you be? I - am - a - werewolf!" Scott stuttered when he was faced with Joe's wall of skepticism. He gestured to Stiles. "Stiles knows! Tell her!"

"All due respect, out of all testimonies in the world, Stiles' holds the least weight," Joe intercepted before Stiles could chime in. "He would claim you to be a unicorn if you asked him to." She folded her arms and cocked her head at Scott. "But okay, sure, if you're a werewolf...prove it."

It was not textbook handling of delusions, but he had been taking this too far. Scott was starting to sound like those weirdos Carter talked about, those who tried to turn their friends into werewolves via a bite and ende up only giving them tetanus.

Joe waited for Scott to follow up. He closed his eyes in concentration, made that stupid face she recognized from their homework sessions, before he blinked his eyes open again. "I...uh, can't really do it on command."

"How convenient."

Scott looked at Derek for help and Joe turned expectantly with a raised eyebrow. Derek Hale returned their questioning gazes with a complely blank look and a shrug, as if he did not understand what was expected of him.

"Oh come on!" Scott shouted so loud his voice cracked.

Joe scoffed and walked to her car, shooing Derek off the hood before popping it open. "If we're done here, I want to drive home. Anyone who can fix my starter is welcome to check under my hood." Her eyebrows furrowed. "My car's hood. The hood. Whatever!" No one moved before Joe folded her arms defiantly. "Now please!"

Stiles scrambled forwards, but Derek gave him a dark glare that kept him at bay. Without looking at Joe, he bent over the inner mechanics of her Ford. Her eyebrow rose - he was obviously planning to fix her car without even a flashlight.

"Stuck gear," he muttered, and thumped something with his fist. Derek emerged and gave Joe a nondescript look. "Fixed."

"Right," she said, eyebrows still high. "Okay, anyone who needs a ride, get in, now."

Scott slumped and dragged his feet towards the passenger seat, while Stiles bounded into the back. Joe paused and looked at Derek, who made no motion of joining them. There was no sign of his car anywhere.

"How did you get here?" she asked and Derek shrugged.

"I ran."

They stared at each other for a few seconds. Joe was too tired to notice how her pulse quickened. She ended up shaking her head. "Okay then." Praying the car would actually start so she could escape his scrutiny, she turned the ignition. The Ford purred into gear.

She gave Derek a wry salute as a thanks and goodbye. He stared after them until they were out of the driveway. Next time she looked, he was gone.

So I got a guest-review I would have loved to reply to, but for some reason does not even let me see it yet. Many of you have guessed that Derek is the mate mentioned in the summary, and I'll try to avoid spoiling my own story any more than necessary, but that part is coming...but let's just say that this is a mate-story with a twist. It's not gonna be the straightforward soulmate-spiel.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter. Leave a review if you can, they seriously motivate me to write more (and this story is loosening the writer's block I have on the sequel for my other TW-fic).