She nodded, looking up to the boy. Cordy knew that he deserved answers, but first she needed one from him; why was he at the Hale house?

In a sudden rush of movement, Stiles skipped down each of the steps and jogged over to Cordy, who met him half way. He ran with determination in his step, closing the gap between them with haste.

Cordy reached out to him, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck and pulling him into a tight embrace. She could feel his arms around her back, clinging to her petite body as if he'd never let go.

But a single thought drew Cordy to break away, holding her brother at arm's length, as well as her breath. "What're you doing at the Hale house?"

"I could ask you the same question." He replied, locking eyes with Cordy. Scott came into view, walking over to them from the house, but her main focus was on Stiles. His darkened eyes were circled with bags and soreness, but beneath them Cordy could see that he understood why she was there, and that meant that he knew about everything.

 "You know." She stated, telling herself more than anyone else. "You know everything, don't you?"

"About werewolves, and kanimas and crazy birds and twins who morph into a giant bad guy?" Stiles rambled on, listing the other supernatural creatures he had come across.

"Wait, twins who morph into a giant bad guy?" Cordy repeated, her eyes widening with fear. "Ethan and Aiden?"

"You know them?" Scott spoke up, furrowing his brows.

"Yeah, pretty well." Cordy admitted. They would have found out soon anyway. "Actually, they're one of the reasons I'm here. They're traitors, don't trust them."

"Cordy?"

She peered between the two boys in front of her to see a third lurking in the doorway of the crooked, burned house. He was a little older than Cordy's brother and his best friend, but only by a few years. A medium grown stubble traced the bottom half of his face, circling his thin, pink lips. The man was dressed all in black, holding himself with a strong posture and locking his fixated stare upon her coffee coloured eyes.

"Derek?" She spoke his name with confusion. The taxi driver had told her that the Hale family was dead, yet he stood in front of her, alive and well. "I thought you were dead."

"I survived, and so did Peter." Cordy remembered Peter. He had been about Derek's age when Cordy had last seen him, and he had always been a mentor to her.

"You two know each other." Stiles muttered. "Of course," He turned to Derek. "How do you know everyone? Literally, there is no person on this Earth you don't know."

Derek shrugged. "Go home, I'm sure there's other people who want to see you. Nice seeing you again, Cordy."

"Wait, do you still live here?" Cordy asked as she made her way towards the house; Derek wasn't getting rid of her that easily. Why would he still live in his old, burned down family house? And if he wasn't living there, why was he even in the crumbling building?

"No, just needed some stuff." He replied, turning to walk into the house. The three of them followed, Cordy and Stiles in the front and Scott trailing behind them.

"So, how's dad?"

"He's doing well. He got promoted to Sheriff."

"Really? That's amazing." Cordy was thoroughly happy for him. It was a position he had always wanted, and she could only imagine the joy he had felt when he'd gotten the title. She just wished that she could've been there with him to celebrate.

"Are you a werewolf? I mean, you obviously know about the whole 'supernatural' thing in Beacon Hills and- wait, you're not a vampire are you? Those things give me the creeps."

"I'm not a vampire." She chuckled. "I'm a Pegasus, duh."

"Wait," He stopped as they approached the stairs, turning back to look at Cordy. "Seriously?"

Cordy laughed. "No, I'm a werewolf, dipshit." She pulled her brother up the stairs to the porch, slotting herself in front of Stiles to fit through the door frame. "Still as gullible as ever, I can see."

The inside of the Hale house looked the same as before; the open room hadn't been affected other than the stale colour of ash that laced its interior. A set of steps lead up to the second floor, two banisters following each side of it up onto a small balcony overlooking the entrance.

"You painted the door?"

Both Cordy and Stiles turned back to Scott, who clasped the door with his right hand, looking at it with suspicion. A sudden look of fright passed through his face, his voice grew grave and serious.

"Why'd you paint the door?"

Cordy looked over to the left, where Derek stood in another linked room, hovering over something she couldn't quite get a glimpse of. He held a piece of cloth in his hands, scrunched up into a ball of creased material.

Derek froze for a moment, looking Scott in the eyes and tilting his head ever so slightly, as if sizing him up. "Go home Scott." He was intimidating, demanding that Scott stop questioning his actions.

Instead, Scott turned back to the red door, stroking its wooden build with his right hand. For a moment he paused, but his eyes never left the door. "And why only one side?"

Cordy joined him, taking a closer look at the fresh painted colour. He was right; there was no need to paint the door, especially when it was abandoned and unused. So what was Derek hiding? There had to be something he was hiding, otherwise he never would have bothered to paint the door.

In curiosity, he pulled his hand away, drawing his claws with a sudden pinch of movement. It took Cordy by complete surprise; he had claws, and that only meant one thing. Scott was a wolf. He had been dragged into the world of werewolves, and there was no way back. It crushed Cordy to know that he was in this mess too, but her heart could only hope that Stiles wasn't in the same situation.

Scott took his pointer finger and ran it down the front of the door, scraping the fresh paint off the wooden frame to reveal blackness. Cordy stood beside him with Stiles, watching with curiosity as to what was behind the paint.

The scratching of his nail alerted Derek, who had moved into a different room in the house out of Cordy's view.

"Scott." He called out as a warning, trotting over in an attempt to keep him away from what he had already hidden.

Still, Scott didn't listen. Instead, he sped up, using both hands to claw away the paint bit by bit, and Derek was too late to stop him. He stood next to the boy with his mouth hung open slightly, watching as he tore away everything he had tried to keep away from them was unravelled.

From the corner of her eyes Cordy saw Stiles lifted his arm to his eyes, shielding himself from the flying bits of paint but soon after he lowered it, too interested as to what was inked across the door to shield his eyes.

Cordy's eyes never left the door, which was peeling with paint. Black ink was becoming more visible from beneath the tint, but it was hardly recognisable or understandable.

When the symbol beneath the paint was visible, Scott dropped his hands, taking a better look at the black shapes in front of him.

There on the door was a black symbol made of a simple triangle with lines climbing off it, little flicks finishing the end of each stroke of ink. It was a mark Cordy knew too well, a mark she had never wanted to see again.

"Shit," She spat, turning to face Derek, who crossed his arms and looked down, switching his weight to stand up tall in irritation. "They're here, aren't they?

"Who's here?" Scott asked, tearing his eyes from the door to look for an answer.

Cordy sighed; she didn't want to tell him and Stiles, but if she didn't they would just find out another time. "The Alphas."