i'm sorry. are you flirting with her? disgusting.

[ 1.09 ]

"Faster?"

"Much faster," Stiles replied. Scott shifted gears and the Camaro sped up the smallest bit.

"Scott, I don't think you're grasping the concept of the car chase here," Stiles snapped, looking over his shoulder out the back windshield. The car that was being driven by Kate Argent was gaining on them.

"If I go faster, I'll kill us," Scott argued.

"Well, if you don't go faster, they're gonna kill us!"

"You guys just said we were going to McDonald's," Willow whined from the backseat.

She had been crouched down the entire time, afraid of being shot or seen by any of the hunters. Scott and Stiles had tricked her into coming along on their little trip. Derek was hunting the Alpha while they drove his car to throw the hunters off his scent. Willow was still in pink, fluffy pajama pants with hearts all over them — a clear sign that she did not know what she'd really be doing that night.

"Sorry," Scott and Stiles said in sync. Though they didn't really mean it.

The next time Stiles looked over his shoulder, he noticed the lack of headlights following them. "They're gone."

He quickly fumbled for the police radio he had stolen and turned it on. "All units, suspect is on foot heading into the Iron Works."

Of course, the police would find him the first time he left his hiding spot in days. Scott sped toward the location that Derek had been spotted, where Chris Argent had cornered him.

"Get in!" Stiles shouted as soon as Scott pulled the car close enough.

Willow threw open the back door for him to get in, and Scott was speeding off once more before the door was even closed. When Willow heard the sound of a machine gun, she crouched down and covered her head, hoping the windows were bulletproof.

"What is Willow doing here?" Derek asked angrily.

"She wanted to come!" Stiles lied.

"No, she didn't," Willow squeaked, holding onto her seatbelt.

"What part of laying low don't you understand?" Scott asked, given that both the hunters and police had found him.

"I had him!" Derek exclaimed in frustration. He hit the back of the headrest of Stiles' seat.

"Who, the Alpha?" Stiles asked.

"Yes! He was right in front of me, and the fucking police showed up," he complained.

"Whoa, hey, they're just doing their jobs," he said, defending his father.

Derek glared at Scott. "Yeah, thanks to someone who decided to make me the most wanted fugitive in the entire state."

"Can we seriously get past that? I made a dumbass mistake. I get it," Scott grumbled.

Derek had been particularly aggressive around him since sexually assaulting Willow under the effects of the full moon. And Scott getting on his hands and knees to beg for her forgiveness which he already had wasn't enough for the older werewolf — unlike Willow, Derek would be holding it against him for a long time.

"All right. How did you find him?" Stiles asked, turning to look at Derek.

"Can you try to trust us for at least half a second?" Scott added.

"Yeah, both of us," Stiles said. But then Derek glared at him, and Stiles backed away, a little terrified. "Or just him. I'll be up here."

"Look, the last time I talked to my sister, she was close to figuring something out. She found two things. The first was a guy named Harris," Derek explained.

"Our chemistry teacher?" Stiles asked in disbelief.

"Why him?" Scott questioned.

"I don't know yet," was all he said.

"Alright, well what's the second?" Willow asked.

Derek looked at her before pulling out a piece of paper with a sloppy drawing. "Some kind of symbol." When he looked between Willow and Scott, he could tell that they both recognized it. "What? You know what this is?"

"I've seen it on a necklace," Scott said.

"Allison's necklace," Willow clarified, dread filling her. "That's just great. Scott, take me home."

"'Scuse us for just trying to make you feel included," Stiles muttered under his breath.

"I need sleep, Stiles. We all do, in case you've forgotten that you're actually playing tomorrow night," she reminded him. She didn't want this supernatural stuff to get in the way of their important human things.

"Sorry my survival is such an inconvenience for you," Derek told her, crossing his arms.

"Oh, no, I didn't mean it like that, I just - I mean, you're not—" Willow cut herself off when she saw the small smile on his lips, realizing he wasn't actually offended by her comment. "You know I don't think you're an inconvenience."

"I know," he said quietly. Then his eyes scanned over her form, taking in the heart pajama pants and the tight white shirt with Strawberry Shortcake on it that she had no doubt had since she was a child. "Cute pajamas."

"They are cute," she agreed, nodding seriously.

"I'm sorry. Are you flirting with her?" Stiles asked, whipping his head around, earning a glare from Derek. "Disgusting."

☽︎

"This is gonna be impossible, you know," Scott said as Willow and Stiles followed him into the school the next day.

"Why don't you just ask her if you can borrow it?" Willow suggested.

"How?" he asked.

"It's easy. You just say, 'Hey, Allison, can I borrow your necklace to see if there's anything on it or in it that can lead me to an Alpha werewolf that I need to kill in order to get back together with you?'" Stiles said sarcastically.

"You're not helping," Scott muttered.

"Why don't you just talk to her," Stiles suggested.

"She won't talk to me," he whined. "What if she, like, only takes it off in the shower or something?"

"She only wears it a handful of the time," Willow told him. Lydia thought the necklace was ugly and therefore put a limit on how frequently she was allowed to wear it.

"That's why you ease back into it, okay? Get back on the good side, remind her of the good times," Stiles said. But he noticed the small smile on Scott's face, who clearly wasn't listening. "And then you ask for the necklace. You're thinking about her in the shower, aren't you?"

"Yeah," he shamelessly admitted.

"All right, stay focused, okay? Get the necklace, get the Alpha, get cured, get Allison," he instructed. "In that order. Got it?"

"Good luck," Willow said, smiling comfortingly at him.

The three of them parted to go to their lockers and first classes of the day. Though Willow did stop by the bathroom before making it there.

She heard laughter as soon as the door opened and spotted three girls in the grade above her surrounding someone else — Erica Reyes. They seemed to have knocked her books out of her hand and were making rather rude comments about her outfit and looks.

"Ahem." Willow cleared her throat, cutting off Ariana Mosley's cruel comment about Erica's acne, blaming her lack of boyfriend on it. They all turned to look at Willow, not expecting an audience with classes about to start.

"Ariana, Lily," Willow greeted the ones on the cheerleading squad in particular. "As I'm sure you know, the squad has a very strict, no tolerance for bullying rule. So, if you could just do me a favor and hand in your uniforms to Coach Erickson so that I don't have to hassle you later, that'd be great. And Quinn, I'm sure your softball coach wouldn't be thrilled to hear about this, especially considering you're on probation for hitting Robin Stevens last semester."

"Y - you can't do that," Ariana said, her eyes wide. "We weren't doing anything — just four friends having a laugh. Isn't that right, Erica?"

"Oh, see, but it doesn't matter what Erica says," Willow told them, a polite smile still on her face. "Because I heard enough of it. And as the captain of the squad, I can't allow that kind of behavior, so, I'm sure you understand. And if you cause any more problems, I'm afraid I'll have to get the principal involved."

Erica looked between the three older girls then to Willow and then at her feet. Willow was one of, if not the only person in school that ever stood up for her. But she never thought it'd come to someone getting kicked off the cheerleading squad. It made her smile to know that at least someone was in her corner.

"You girls should probably get to class," Willow said.

Ariana, Lily, and Quinn all scoffed before storming out of the bathroom — they couldn't do anything about it, not to Willow. She was untouchable in the halls of Beacon Hills High. Once they were gone, Willow knelt down and helped Erica gather her books.

"Thank you, Willow," Erica said in a quiet voice. "I was like two more words away from crying, and that would've made it worse."

"It's no trouble. They shouldn't expect to get away with treating people like that without consequences," Willow told her as they both stood back up. "Your hair looks very pretty today."

"Really?" she asked shyly, tucking a blonde curl behind her ear. Half of it was braided back to keep it out of her face.

"Yup. It'd take me like two hours and a whole can of hairspray for my hair to actually hold a curl like that — and it still wouldn't look natural," she told her.

"You're the only one that ever makes me feel pretty," Erica admitted quietly.

"You should always feel pretty because that's what you are," she told her, bumping her shoulder. Well, her arm, as Erica was half a foot taller than Willow. "I'll see you in gym. We can sit on the bleachers and not break a sweat while watching Coach embarrass silly boys."

"Sounds like a great plan."

☽︎

In between first and second period, Jackson had come up to Willow at her locker, a determined look on his face.

"Hey, Jack," she greeted, applying a fresh coat of lip gloss. "How'd the doctor's appointment to check on your neck go? It's not infected, is it?"

"Do you know?" he asked, skipping over her questions about his well-being.

"Know what?" she asked, tilting her head. "Did something happen?"

Jackson leaned in closer, careful to not let anyone overhear. "Do you know about Scott? About what he is?"

Her eyes went wide, knowing just what he was talking about now. And her reaction gave him her answer.

"So, you do," he said, nodding. "That's why you've been spending more time with those two tools."

"Jackson, it's really complicated and dangerous for you to know about it," she said, beginning to worry. "I don't even want to know about it. So, please promise me you'll be careful. Those claw marks on the back of your neck are just the tip of the iceberg."

"I don't need you to baby me, Willow. And once Scott gets me what I want, no one will ever have to baby me again."

Willow studied the smirk on his face, an uneasy feeling settling over her. "You - you want to be a werewolf?"

"And we both know I always get what I want."

☽︎

"Oh. My. God."

Willow looked up from her book at Lydia, a questioning look in her eyes. Lydia was staring down at her phone in disbelief.

"What is it, Lyd?" she asked softly.

Instead of responding, Lydia stormed out of the library, searching for someone in the hallway. Willow quickly followed, wanting to know what was wrong. Soon, Lydia found Jackson.

"Jackson! This little text — not funny!" she snapped, flashing him her phone screen.

"No, I wasn't trying to be funny," Jackson told her with an expressionless face. "I would have put a 'ha ha' at the end of it. And, see, there's no 'ha ha.'"

Lydia crossed her arms and read the text aloud. "Lydia, please give back my spare house key at your earliest convenience, as we are no longer dating." Willow had to cover her mouth to silence her gasp of surprise. He was breaking up with her. Through text.

"You didn't lose it, did you?" he asked her.

"What the hell is this?" she asked, trying not to sound hurt.

"Well, Lydia, in preparation for some big changes, I've decided to drop some of the dead weight in my life. And you're just about the deadest," he told her. He ignored the look Willow was sending him, one that said he didn't have to leave Lydia just because he wanted to be a werewolf too.

"Are you breaking up with me?" Lydia asked quietly.

"Dumping, actually," he corrected. "I'm dumping you."

Jackson moved to walk away, but Lydia stopped him. "Dumped by the co-captain of the lacrosse team. I wonder how many minutes it'll take me to get over that."

Jackson narrowed his eyes at the dig of his status on the team. He shook off her hand and stormed away.

"Wait, seconds, actually!" Lydia snapped. But as soon as Jackson was gone, the defensive look on her face washed away. She looked at Willow with wide, sad eyes. "Did that just happen?"

Willow immediately hugged her. "Maybe he's just going through something personal. You know he loves you."

"Does he?" she asked, not believing it anymore.

"He does," Willow assured her. She took her hand and squeezed it tightly. "Do you want to come over after the game tonight? Sleepover and Taylor Swift and Scribble cuddles?"

Lydia sniffed and nodded her head, smiling. "Scribble cuddles are the best cuddles."

☽︎

Stiles led Willow by her hand up to his room, holding the dry-cleaning bag with her cheer uniform in his other. While Scott was going to try and steal the necklace from Allison's house, the humans were going to try a different way to get information. Willow would just change at his house before the game.

When they entered his room, Stiles went straight to his laptop while Willow placed her things on his bed, pulling out a few schoolbooks.

"Hey, Stiles," Stilinski called.

"Yo, D—Derek!"

Willow spun around quickly when she heard the name leave Stiles' lips. Derek had been silently standing in the corner, waiting for them. He glared at Stiles, gesturing to the door for him to get rid of his father. Stiles ran to the door, making sure to shut it most of the way.

"What'd you say?" his dad asked, confused.

"What? I said 'Yo - d - dad.'" Stiles awkwardly lied.

Stilinski shook his head. "Listen, I've got something I've got to take care of, but I'm gonna be there tonight. I mean, your first game."

"My first game. Guh, it's great. Awesome. Uh, good," he said, incapable of acting normal with Derek there.

"I'm very happy for you. And I'm really proud of you," he told him.

"We're both proud of him," Willow said, slipping an arm around Stiles' waist from behind as she entered the conversation. If Stiles couldn't be normal, she'd be normal for him.

"I never thought I'd get to hear you actually cheering for my boy," Stilinski told her, grinning. Then he looked back at Stiles. "So, they're really gonna let you play, right?"

"Yeah, dad. I'm first line. Believe that?"

"I'm very proud," he said again. He really couldn't wrap his head around it.

"Oh, me too," Stiles said. Then his dad hugged him, and Stiles made it more awkward by saying, "Huggie. Huggie."

"See you both there," Stilinski told them both.

"By Mr. Stilinski," Willow told him, smiling politely.

As soon as he was gone, Willow and Stiles went back into the bedroom. Before he could speak, Stiles was shoved up against the wall by Derek. Willow squeaked in surprise and backed up to the bed.

"If you say one word—"

"Oh, what, you mean, like, "Hey, dad, Derek Hale's in my room. Bring your gun?" Yeah, that's right," Stiles interrupted with a surprising amount of bravery. "If I'm harboring your fugitive ass, it's my house, my rules, buddy."

Derek seemed to think it over before nodding. Then he straightened out Stiles' jacket that he had wrinkled. In response, Stiles straightened out Derek's jacket, making Willow giggle. But before Stiles could walk off, Derek sharply moved his head threateningly toward him.

"Oh, my God!" Stiles said, flinching. He then took a seat at his desk chair, eying Derek warily.

"Scott didn't get the necklace?" Derek asked.

"No. He's still working on it," Stiles told him. "But there's something else we can try. The night we were trapped at the school, Scott sent a text to Allison asking her to meet him there."

"So?"

"So, it wasn't Scott," he said.

"Well, can you find out who sent it?" Derek asked.

"No, not me," Stiles denied. "But I think I know somebody who can."

"He's not gonna do it," Willow said, crossing her arms. "He doesn't like you."

"That's why you're here," Stiles said, giving her a pointed look. "He adores you and he's already on his way."

"Everyone adores me," Willow said, smiling cutely. Then she grabbed the bag with her uniform. "I'll be back."

Willow went to the bathroom to change into her maroon and white cheerleading uniform. She also pulled her hair into a perfect, sleek ponytail, tying a maroon ribbon around it. She then touched up her makeup from the school day.

The doorbell rang as she finished applying a coat of her strawberry lip gloss. As soon as she opened the bathroom door, Stiles rushed by to go get Danny.

When Willow entered the bedroom, Derek's attention was drawn from the history textbook he was flipping through to her. The uniform fit her like a glove, and he didn't recall the cheer skirts being that short when he was in school, which wasn't even that long ago. Though he certainly wasn't complaining.

Then as she laid on her stomach on the bed, the skirt slid up showing the bottom of a red pair of spandex, and Derek quickly looked away.

"I hate to pull you away from the riveting material, but I need the book to finish this worksheet," Willow told him.

Derek glanced at her and then at the paper in her hands, a smile growing as he read it over. "You write your name with a heart for the o's?"

At the top, in neat handwriting, it read Willow Worthington, each o replaced with a small heart. It was also written in light blue glittery ink.

"It's more original than dotting my i's with them," she said, shrugging. "Now gimme."

As she made grab hands for the textbook, he handed it over. But he snatched the book they were reading in English. Soon, Stiles led Danny into the room.

"Hey, Willow," Danny greeted, grinning at her.

"Hey, Danny. Sorry about this," Willow said instantly.

"About what?" he asked, frowning. Then he looked to Stiles. "Why is she sorry?"

"Yeah, I kind of lied to get you here," Stiles said, rubbing his head. "You're here to trace a text sent from an unknown number for me."

"You want me to do what?" he asked in disbelief.

"Trace a text," Stiles repeated.

"I came here to do lab work," Danny said firmly. "That's what lab partners do."

"And we will," he said, "once you trace the text."

Danny scoffed and shook his head. "And what makes you think I know how?"

"He looked up your arrest report," Willow said casually. She was kicking her legs back and forth in the air, not really paying attention to their discussion as she worked.

"I - I was thirteen. They dropped the charges," Danny said in defense of himself. Stiles gave him a look that clearly said he didn't care. Danny shook his head and took the empty seat next to Stiles. "No, we're doing lab work."

"Oh, my..." Stiles groaned, wondering how they'd convince him. While he was shooting pleading glances at Willow, who was shaking her head, Danny was sneaking looks at Derek.

"Who's he again?" Danny asked, wondering why Derek had been silently sitting there without introducing himself.

Both Derek and Willow looked to Stiles, hoping he'd have an explanation. If they gave Danny his real name, he'd recognize it from the news.

"Um, my cousin," Stiles lied. "Miguel."

Derek was less than impressed and had to refrain from throwing something at him. Willow was softly giggling, so he nudged her with his foot to get her to stop.

"Is that blood on his shirt?" Danny asked, eying the dark red stain splattered on Derek's shirt.

"Yeah. Yes. Well, he gets these horrible nosebleeds," Stiles said. "Hey, Miguel. I thought I told you, you could borrow one of my shirts."

Stiles did go back to talking about the text, but Willow didn't really hear it. Her eyes were drawn to Derek's muscular back as he pulled his shirt off, standing in front of Stiles' dresser. She studied the toned muscles and tattoo in between his shoulder blades as if that was what she'd be tested on when Monday came instead of history.

"Uh, Stiles?" Derek interrupted him. He had a small gray shirt in his hand.

"Yes?" Stiles asked, giving him an annoyed look.

"This - no fit!" he said, tugging on the material.

"Then try something else on," Stiles muttered, turning back to Danny. "Sorry."

But then Stiles noticed how Danny's eyes were glued to Derek's shirtless form. Willow wasn't the only one appreciating the view. He suddenly had a new idea on how to get Danny to trace the text.

Derek pulled on an orange and blue striped shirt that was almost two sizes too small. It looked horrible on him, but also good considering how tight it hugged him.

"Hey, that one looks pretty good, huh? What do you think, Danny? The shirt?" Stiles asked him.

Danny looked Derek up and down. "It's - it's not really his color."

Stiles smirked at him as Derek pulled the shirt off. "You swing for a different team, but you still play ball, don't you, Danny boy?"

"You're a horrible person," he muttered.

"I know. It keeps me awake at night," he said, not really meaning it. "Anyway, about that text—"

"Stiles!" Derek snapped, unable to find a shirt. "None of these fit!"

"I'll need the ISP, the phone number, and the exact time of the text," Danny said quickly.

Stiles pumped his fist in victory while sliding his laptop over to Danny. While they did that, Willow rolled off the bed and walked over to Derek. It took a lot of strength to not stare at his broad chest.

"C'mon," she said, grabbing his fingertips and pulling him along. He let her lead him from the room and down the hall into Stiles' dad's room. "Let's get you dressed before Danny has a heart attack."

"From how it sounds, you were about to have one too for a minute there," he said smugly.

Willow's cheeks were dusted with pink as she went into the Sheriff's closet. It only took her a second to find a black shirt that would fit Derek — albeit a little tight around the biceps. She turned back around to give it to him only to discover that he was right behind her.

"You're blushing," he noted, a smirk on his face.

"Yes, well, it follows in the same category as crying for me — very easy to achieve," she claimed, which wasn't a lie. Then she pressed the shirt against his chest.

"You sure you want me to put it on?" he asked, still teasing her. He had to restrain himself from reaching out and brushing the end of her skirt.

Her eyes danced over his defined chest and the lines of his neck before settling on his own eyes. Willow felt like she was burning under his watchful gaze. A part of her would've been content to stay and burn.

"We should, um, go see what Danny found," she said, taking a deep breath. Willow scurried off, leaving him with the shirt and a longing feeling in his chest.

"Got anything?" Willow asked, stepping into Stiles' room. Derek followed a moment later, now fully dressed.

"There. The text was sent from a computer," Danny said, pointing at the screen. "This one."

They all leaned forward and read the name on the screen in disbelief.

"Registered to that account name?" Derek asked.

"No, no, no, no. That can't be right," Stiles said.

"Danny," Willow said hesitantly. "Are you absolutely sure?"

Danny nodded to her, not knowing how drastic the situation just became. "Yeah, I'm positive. Why do you all look like I just killed a puppy?"

Because the person that sent the text was Melissa McCall.

☽︎

Willow could hardly focus as she did her warmup stretches for the game. All she could think about was Stiles and Derek, who were headed to the hospital.

Melissa couldn't be the Alpha. She just couldn't be. Willow refused to believe it. She didn't know what they'd find at the hospital, but she had faith that Stiles could prove Melissa's innocence.

"He's not gonna make it back in time," Willow said, sitting on the bench next to Scott.

"But why? I told him and Derek that there's nothing special about the necklace," Scott said.

Willow bit her lip, knowing she couldn't tell Scott about his mother. Not without proof.

"Derek's just — he dragged him into something," was all she said, fiddling with the end of her skirt. "He's not going to make it in time."

"Coach is never gonna give him another chance—" Scott stopped talking when Jackson joined them, sitting on Willow's other side.

"It's the bite that does it, isn't it?" he asked, not bothering with small talk.

"Yes," Scott reluctantly told him.

"Well, then, it's easy."

"No, it's not. I can't be the one to do it, okay? It has to be — it has to be an Alpha," Scott explained.

"Well, then, you get him to do it."

"We don't know who it is," Willow told him. "But he is the one that attacked us in the video store."

"This whole thing is so much more complicated than you think," Scott added. "There's - there's others. There's hunters."

"Hunting what?" he asked, scoffing. "What hunters?"

"Werewolf hunters," he whispered.

Jackson rolled his eyes, thinking it was ridiculous. "Oh, my God. You've got to be kidding me."

"No, jerkoff!" Scott snapped. "There's a whole family of them, and they carry assault rifles. Do you get that? Assault rifles."

As he spoke, Scott glanced over his shoulder at the bleachers, spotting Allison, her father, and Kate. Jackson noticed the subtle glance.

"Them?"

"What?" Scott asked, not meaning for him to know everything. "No, no—"

"Oh, my God, that actually makes sense. Allison Argent," Jackson said, his eyes wide. "Oh, my God, you don't get it. You've known her this long, and you never actually asked her — her name, idiot."

Willow sighed softly. "Jackson, he's not an idiot just because he doesn't know French."

"What?" Scott asked.

"Argent means silver in French," Jackson told him, giving him a pointed look.

"Actually, silver doesn't hurt them apparently," Willow informed him. "Important to know if you're to be a werewolf."

"Willow, I can't believe you're supporting this!" Scott exclaimed.

Before an argument could start, Coach sauntered over, throwing an arm around all of their shoulders. "Now, this is what I like to see, rivals turned allies. You know there's no "me" in "team," right, boys?"

All three of them frowned. "Yes, there is, Coach," Scott told him.

"Okay, smartass, how 'bout this - No "A" in econ if no win on field? Good? Huh? Perfect," Coach snapped. Then he tugged on Willow's ponytail. "Five bonus points on the next pop quiz if you join the huddle, Worthington. These dumbasses are always more motivated when there's a pretty girl to impress."

"I'll be there," Willow assured him, always one to take bonus points.

"So, what are you gonna do?" Scott asked as Coach left them.

"Well, I'm gonna give you a chance to give me what I want," Jackson told him. "What's three days, huh? Seventy-two hours. That's all you get, Scott. Seventy-two hours."

"What if I can't?" he asked helplessly.

"Oh, come on, McCall. That's not a winning attitude," he said, smirking.

"Let's go!" Coach called, blowing his whistle. "Huddle up! Let's go! Big night! Big night!"

From the bleachers, Allison nudged her aunt's shoulder and then gestured to Jackson, who was in the huddle of lacrosse players. His arm was slung over Willow's shoulder, saying something to make her laugh.

"That one. That's Jackson," she told her.

"Holy hotness," Kate muttered, smirking. "Oh, if I was in high school again. Maybe just a substitute teacher."

"You are sick," Allison said, chuckling at what she thought was just a joke.

"You should be all over that," she told her niece. But then Jackson turned his head, and Kate spotted the half-healed claw marks on the back of Jackson's neck. She quickly leaned over to whisper to her brother. "Chris, remember how we were talking about a second beta — a younger one?"

"Yes," Chris said, wondering where she was going with this. He'd prefer her to not discuss it with Allison right next to them.

"Can you get turned by a scratch?" Kate asked.

"If the claws go deep enough. Maybe."

"Wonder how deep those went," she muttered, nodding to Jackson.

Chris' eyes narrowed at Jackson before his gaze shifted to Willow, a need to protect her washing over him. "If he's the beta, we need to get Willow away from him. One bad mood and he could kill her."

"She's so small," Kate mumbled, leaning forward to watch how Jackson and Willow interacted. "She couldn't even begin to learn how to fight off a wolf."

Willow wasn't like Allison. She was soft and delicate. If they put a gun in her hand, she'd drop it. And if something flashed claws and fangs and glowing eyes at her, she'd break down crying.

And because of that, the Argents knew she couldn't have known about werewolves, about the gruesome world surrounding her.

Oh, how wrong they were.

☽︎

Two figures stood hidden by the edge of the forest. An alpha and a beta. An uncle and a nephew. Their eyes were fixed on the backyard where two girls were dancing around, one helping the other get over a breakup.

"What are we doing here?" Derek asked, his fist clenched so tight that his claws dug into his palms. He didn't want Peter anywhere near Willow. "Obviously, my theory about the Alpha being someone she knows was wrong."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Peter said, a smirk on his face. His eyes were fixed on Willow, who was twirling around and singing a Taylor Swift song as Lydia downed another cup of alcohol they had stolen from Warren's liquor cabinet. "Such a precious little thing."

"You're old enough to be her father," Derek said, glaring at him.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Not like that. Besides, from all the juicy details you spilled when treating my comatose body like a diary, you've called dibs."

Derek clenched his jaw, not wanting to entertain Peter's stupid teasing. "Again, what are we doing here? Why does a human girl you've never met interest you?"

Peter's knowing smirk only grew as he continued to watch the girl below.

Lydia's singing wasn't quite as good considering she was drunk, and the lyrics were slurred. And after they reached the bridge of All Too Well, which the recently dumped girl screamed at the top of her lungs, Lydia ended up falling asleep on the small couch sitting on the patio.

Willow stood with her hands on her hips, staring down at her sleeping friend. "Dad's gonna have to wake up and move you inside because we both know I'm not strong enough to."

"Oh, I'm sure I could lend a hand."

Willow spun on her heels, only somewhat recognizing the voice. She saw someone standing at the edge of her backyard, partially hidden by the shadow of the trees. She took a few cautious steps toward him until she finally recognized him.

"Peter?" she greeted, pleasantly surprised. She hadn't seen or heard from the man since that night she had helped him. Willow had wondered about him many times over the past few weeks, hoping he was okay. "Long time, no see."

"Sorry. I didn't visit sooner. I've been a bit busy," he said, walking closer.

As he did, more moonlight hit his face. Willow tilted her head as she studied him, her smile turning into a confused frown. "Your - your scars," she said, lifting a hand and hovering her fingers over his smooth skin. The burns were gone, as if they were never there. "What happened to them?"

"Don't you remember? When you kissed my cheek?" he asked her, smirking. "No wound truly heals without a kiss to make it better."

"What the hell is this?" Derek had finally emerged from the shadows, having listened in on their brief conversation. It was a conversation between two people that had definitely met before.

"Derek?" Willow asked, now really confused.

"I see you've met my nephew."

Willow froze, everything suddenly making sense. She couldn't tear her eyes away from Peter's blue eyes, ones that could turn red at a moment's notice.

"You're the Alpha," Willow whispered, her voice almost inaudible.

"Such a smart girl," Peter said, praising her. Then he looked at Derek. "She's just so smart."

"What exactly is this?" Derek asked, crossing his arms.

"Sweet, darling Willow here came across me that night that I bit Scott," Peter explained. As he did so, he circled around Willow like she was his prey. "The hunters — and you, Derek — managed to get me pretty good. I woke up to this one oh-so-carefully tending to my wounds."

"W - why didn't you kill me?" she asked, following him with her eyes. "You were, I mean, you were nice. Normal — if you ignore the covered in blood part."

"Do you want me to kill you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Willow quickly shook her head, making him chuckle. Then he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth when he saw the tears welling in her eyes. "Don't cry, sweetheart. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Why didn't you bite her?" Derek asked. He was trying to make sense of it all without showing how scared he was for Willow despite Peter's claims to leave her unharmed. "You could've had two instead of one."

"Just look at her, Derek," Peter said, placing his hands on her shoulders as he stood behind her. Willow was shaking, but she didn't try to pull away. She didn't want to make him angry. "Sometimes, when a person is bitten, the shape they take reflects what they are on the inside. This cute little thing doesn't exactly scream 'predator,' now does she?"

"And you couldn't risk having an unknown variable affecting your plan," Derek realized. "Alright. You've made your big reveal to everyone. Leave Willow alone."

"I'm just trying to make some friends," he said. "I have been in a coma for six years. And Willow is very friendly."

"If I say we're friends, will you stop trying to force Scott to kill everyone?" Willow asked softly, turning her head to look at Peter. "He can be in your pack and have human friends."

"Hmm, I suppose I do owe you one for the first aid service," he said, his smirk slipping into a lazy smile. "What do Willow Worthington's friends do? Besides going to movie rental stores and getting trapped in high schools?"

"Lacrosse games. Parties. Shopping," Willow listed half-heartedly. "You have to get Scribbles on your good side."

"What's a Scribbles?"

"A demon cat," Derek muttered. "Are we done here?"

Peter sighed heavily, knowing Derek wasn't going to stop complaining until they left Willow alone. "Fine, dear nephew. Until next time, Willow."

"Oh, uh, wait," she called reluctantly. Both men looked at her, confused as to why she wanted them to stay for even a moment longer. Willow nervously fiddled with her fingers behind her back. "Can, uh, can one of you move Lydia inside?"

Peter stepped forward, but Derek placed a strong hand on his chest, holding him back. "I'll get her," he said gruffly. He didn't want Peter near Lydia.

Willow nodded and then when Peter waved goodbye to her, she awkwardly waved back. Then Derek picked up Lydia's sleeping form, following Willow inside to one of the guest rooms.

"You kissed the Alpha on the cheek," Derek muttered, scoffing. "You saw a stranger covered in blood and helped him and kissed him on the cheek."

"Well, he was nice," she defended herself. "And I always kiss people on the cheek when they're hurt to make them feel better — after Scott got bit, when Jackson separated his shoulder, kissed the bruise on Isaac's neck the other day."

"Didn't kiss me after being shot," Derek muttered under his breath before he could even think about it.

"In my defense, I was traumatized by that entire night," she reminded him. "Guess I was a fool to think that night was the worst that it could get."

"Things will be different now that we know he's the Alpha."

"I don't understand," Willow said quietly, not looking at Derek. She could feel his eyes burning into her. "I know he's your uncle, but why are you on his side now? He, I mean, didn't he kill your sister?"

"It's complicated. He didn't know what he was doing," Derek told her.

Willow didn't quite believe that. After all, the night that she had come across Peter, he seemed to be in his right mind.

"He's gonna keep trying to get Scott in his pack, isn't he?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"We need him."

Willow opened the door to the guest room next to her own, and Derek laid Lydia down. After she pulled the blanket over her friend, they both stepped into the hallway.

"Please be careful, Derek," Willow told him softly. "I don't want anyone getting hurt — especially you."

"And I'm doing this so you don't get hurt," Derek said, stepping a little closer. "Don't you see that? If I'm in his pack, then I'm stronger and I can keep an eye on him. I can keep him away from you."

"You're not doing a very good job at keeping him away. Sounds like he's ready to plan a shopping spree," she said, trying to lighten the mood. "I bet he has expensive taste."

Derek shook his head, refusing to smile. "Peter's not something to joke about. Just because he doesn't plan to kill you or turn you doesn't mean you're safe."

"Well, then it's a good thing I have a big strong friend like Miguel to protect me."

That got a real smile out of Derek, as well as an eye roll. "Do not call me that again. I hate Stiles."

"You shouldn't say such mean things about your cousin," she said, giggling to herself.

"Careful, Worthington," Derek said, taking one more step closer. "It's not nice to tease animals."

Willow suddenly found her back pressed up against the wall as she looked up at him. When had he gotten so close? Why was she looking at his lips?

"I already told you — I'm not scared of you," Willow said, looking back up at his eyes.

He raised an eyebrow. "Do I still make you nervous?"

"Not a bad nervous."

Slowly, Derek tucked a strand of hair behind Willow's ear and he seemed to be leaning closer. His gaze kept going back and forth from her eyes to her lips, searching for any sort of sign that he should stop.

Willow didn't want him to.

His nose brushed hers for just a second before—

"Will?" It was Lydia who interrupted, stirring from her drunken sleep to softly call for her friend.

Derek didn't back up right away, simply staring at Willow's lips for a moment longer. But after hearing Lydia shift around in the room, he moved, the moment gone.

"Goodnight, Willow," Derek said quietly.

Willow paused at the door and looked at him over her shoulder before going in. Making a snap decision, she moved back over to him. He was so much taller than her that she had to stand on her toes and crane her neck — she almost had to jump, which would've been embarrassing. She placed a soft kiss to his cheek, leaving behind a warm, tingling sensation on both of their skin.

"For getting shot. And electrocuted. And stabbed in the chest," Willow listed off, a shy smile on her lips as she backed to the door. "Goodnight, Derek."