Magic Bullet 1x04

Magic Bullet 1x04

Episode 5

“If Derek isn't the Alpha... if he's not the one who bit you... then who did?” Stiles questions as their teacher passes out the graded tests they all took. Fallon rubs her eyes tiredly, exhausted from how late she stayed up going to see Derek. She doesn’t necessarily regret going, but now she feels an unnatural anger towards the man. He told her to stay out of the way. It’s unbelievable. All she wants to do is help and make sure no more people die, and yet he makes it seem as though she’s the problem.

“I don’t know,” Scott answers.

Stiles sighs and sits back in his seat for the briefest moment before thinking of another question and leaning forward, gently smacking Scott in the back with the back of his right hand. “Did the Alpha kill the bus driver?”

Scott whispers, “I don’t know.”

“Yes,” Fallon answers at the same time, a small yawn escaping her lips.

The two boys turn to look at her. She’s sitting next to Stiles in the row over. She freezes, realizing she just answered a question she shouldn’t even have any context to. Stiles narrows his eyes at her, “How do you know?”

She shrugs, trying to cover it up. “Just a hunch, I guess.”

“You’re lying,” Scott furrows his eyebrows. “I just heard your heart beat. It went up. How do you know?” He reiterates the question.

The brunette sighs. There’s no point in keeping it a secret, “I saw Derek last night…” she admits. “After the bus driver died, I wanted to know what was going on. So I went to hear it from him.”

“Are you stupid?!” Stiles scoffs, throwing his pencil at her. “What if he killed you, huh? Then what?”

“Well, I’m sitting right next to you so, I wouldn’t know,” she replies sarcastically.

“You shouldn’t have gone alone,” Scott scolds.

“You did,” Fallon points out incredulously, baffled by his hypocrisy.

“But I can protect myself in ways that you can’t,” he insists.

“Y’know I’m getting real tired of everyone assuming Stiles and I are useless just because we don’t have magical werewolf abilities,” she glares at him.

“I never said you were useless.”

“Okay!” Stiles whisper yells, stopping the argument from moving forward. “Moving on…” he turns his attention back to Scott. “Does Allison’s dad know about the Alpha?”

Scott, feeling overwhelmed by the mini argument with Fallon, along with the incessant questions from Stiles, loses his temper. “I don’t know!” He replies in a loud voice causing the teacher and pretty much every student in the class to look back at the three of them. He tries to play it off by looking out the window while Stiles sinks down into his chair. Fallon simply smiles fakely at the onlookers who turn away from the awkward situation.

Stiles is handed back his test first out of the three and is satisfied by the "A" he received. Fallon gets hers next, a small smirk on her face as she reads “A+” with a one-hundred percent written next to it. However, Scott sighs loudly when he's handed his, which has a “D-” written on it, Stiles leans forward to look at it and mutters sarcastically over Scott's shoulder, “Dude, you need to study more!”

Scott slams his test down on the desk, shooting Stiles a menacing glare. Stiles scoffs defensively, pushing himself away from Scott. “That was a joke, Scott,” he explains. “It’s one test! You’re gonna make it up. Do you want help studying?”

“Yeah, we can meet at my place tonight if you want,” Fallon suggests kindly, despite their previous argument. “We can make our own personalized pizza’s and stuff.”

Scott sighs, “No, I’m studying with Allison after school today.”

Stiles grins suggestively and pats Scott on the back proudly, “That’s my boy!”

Fallon rolls her eyes, kicking Stiles from across the way. “I said it once, and I’ll say it again. Boundaries.”

Scott nods along with Fallon, sending Stiles a pointed look, “We’re just studying.”

“Uh, no, you’re not,” Stiles scoffs, rubbing his shin where the angry brunette just kicked it.

Scott frowns in confusion, “No, I’m not?”

Stiles rolls his eyes in exasperation as though it’s obvious to what he’s referring to. “Not if I’m forced to live vicariously through you!” He exclaims. “If you go over to her house today and squander that colossal opportunity, I swear to God, I’ll have you de-balled.”

“You seriously need to get laid,” Fallon says to Stiles, taking out her book and burying her nose in it. Their teacher gave them the rest of the period off to do homework anyway.

“I’m well aware of that, thank you,” he replies as if what he said is a good comeback.

“Okay,” Scott looks at them with annoyed eyes. “Just... stop with the questions.”

Stiles nods with a grin, “Done. No more questions. No more talk about the Alpha, or Derek…” he trails off, his eyes going unfocused as he remembers the intimidating man. No doubt recalling their last interaction in the back of the police cruiser. “Especially Derek… who still scares me…”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon makes her way over to the girls locker room after the last bell of the day. She likes being able to change in her own space for lacrosse practice because no one’s ever in here after school. The only time she usually has to share is with the off season soccer girls who only use it to get ready for training. The brunette walks over to one of the stalls, using the restroom before changing into her gear. She still has a headphone in, listening to her playlist to keep her mind occupied. She flushes the toilet before exiting the bathroom and washing her hands. She hums under her breath, watching as the water trickles down her skin.

“Holy shit!” She screams loudly when she looks into the mirror and sees a pale, almost dead looking Derek Hale standing behind her. He sways back and forth on his feet, his blue eyes looking more gray by the second. That’s when she notices the gaping bullet hole in his arm. Derek stumbles, almost falling to the floor, but Fallon rushes forward, wrapping his arm around her shoulder to hold him up. He’s a lot heavier than she thought. “What happened?” She asks, her voice laced with concern.

He grunts in pain, squeezing his eyes shut. “I was shot,” he manages to get out. Blood drips down his arm and off of his fingertips, leaking onto her shoes. She grimaces, but knows that her shoes are not the priority right now.

“I’m sorry, you got what?!” Her eyes widen as she moves frantically to have him sit down on one of the benches in the locker room. “By who?” She runs over to her locker, grabbing a spare shirt and a pair of scissors from her backpack. Her father’s words come into mind on how to take care of a gunshot wound. She cuts a long piece of fabric out of the material before going back over to Derek and creating a makeshift tourniquet. “By the way, this is gonna hurt, so brace yourself.”

“Wha–?” He lets out a low growl as she ties it as tightly as she can. The bleeding slowly slightly, but the wound still looks nasty. His eyes flash a bright blue for a moment before turning back to their normal color.

“Why aren't you healing?” She asks, looking over his form. A wound this small should’ve been nothing for the werewolf.

“I can’t,” he groans in pain. “It wasn’t a normal bullet. It’s different.”

“Like wolfsbane different?” She asks worriedly, remembering the different things she read in the book Stiles gave her.

Derek looks surprised by her second question, impressed by her knowledge. His head lulls forward and onto her shoulder, “Wolfsbane,” his voice turns into a whisper. “Need to find Scott. Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” Fallon answers, lifting him off the bench with a grunt. “We don’t have the same last class.” She manages to get them over to the door and out into the hallway. She eyes him sadly, trying her hardest to get him outside. Her arm wraps around his waist as another method to keep him up and secure. He’s trying to help hold his own body weight, but it’s no use. He’s fading, and fast. “C’mon Derek, stay with me,” she mumbles.

They barrel out of the exit doors and Fallon stops, looking over all the heads of the students to try and find Scott. She huffs as the line of cars is long and completely backed up. There’s no way she can get him anywhere safely on her bike, but her eyes brighten when she notices the blue Jeep sitting at the front of the masses of cars.

“Okay, I’m not seeing Scott, but Stiles is right there,” she assures him, starting to drag his limp body over to the vehicle.

“No. Absolutely not,” Derek denies, trying not to go in the direction Fallon’s forcing him in. “I don’t want help from your spaz head of a boyfriend.”

Fallon sighs, rolling her eyes as she continues hauling him. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she corrects. “And unless you wanna brave it out on my motorcycle, this is the best option.”

Derek doesn’t have time to protest as Fallon stops them right in front of Stiles’ car. She puts her hand up to stop him from going and her best friend slams on his breaks. He throws his hands up in annoyance, mumbling something under his breath as he moves to get out of the car. Horns blare from every direction and that’s when Fallon feels Derek start swaying again. “No, no, no, no, don’t fall! Derek, don’t fall!”

“I’m falling,” he whispers. His body starts leaning backwards, too far backwards for Fallon to keep up. She tries to use one last surge of strength to force him up, but it’s too late. His body's stature is no match for her. They fall into the asphalt with a loud thump. Both of them groan in pain and Fallon gets up, lifting his head to put on her legs so he has some way of sitting up.

Scott apparently saw the whole ordeal from the bike rack. He rushes over to Stiles’ jeep where his two best friends are taking care of Derek. Stiles is clearly the most pissed one out of the three of them, peeved Derek stopped him from going to play video games.

“What are you doing here?” Scott asks, blocking Derek’s view from the agitated students. They don’t need to see a dying werewolf in the middle of the school parking lot.

He tries to move himself away from Fallon’s lap, but his limbs are all too limp to get very far. “I was shot,” he gasps out, pointing to the hole in his arm.

“He’s not looking so good, dude,” Stiles looks at him warily.

“I wonder why,” Fallon says sarcastically.

“Okay, you know what? Now is not the time,” Stiles narrows his eyes at her.

Scott frowns in confusion, inspecting the injury. “Why aren’t you healing?” He asks the same question Fallon did

“I can’t,” he huffs tiredly, giving up and collapsing fully into Fallon. Blood seeps from his arm and into her blue jeans and she has to look up in the sky to prevent herself from being disappointed at her now stained clothing. “It was- it was a different kind of bullet.” He repeats the same story he gave to Fallon.

Stiles perks up, all of his supernatural dreams coming true. “A silver bullet?”

“No, you idiot,” Derek snaps irritatedly.

Scott looks as if he just put together something super important, “Wait, wait– that's what she meant when she said you had forty-eight hours…”

Derek’s eyes widen in alarm, “What? Who-who said forty-eight hours?”

“The one who shot you,” Scott answers.

Suddenly, Derek is hit with a powerful wave of pain that causes his eyes to flash bright blue, the same way they did when Fallon put the tourniquet on him. He grimaces in agony. When he opens his eyes again, they're continuing to flash back and forth between his werewolf blue eyes and his human green eyes. Scott looks horrified, his eyes darting around to make sure no one is watching before he mutters at Derek forcefully, “What are you doing? Stop that!”

“Scott, I don’t think he can,” Fallon whispers urgently. “He can’t control it.”

The boy looks at Derek, placing his hands on his shoulders, “Derek, get up.”

The line of cars start to get more impatient. As soon as they see people starting to get out of their vehicles to approach them, they realize that they need to get out of there. Now. Scott pulls Derek to his feet, the man wobbling from the sudden force. He latches onto Fallon once more, the brunette grunts but wraps her arms around his midsection anyway to keep him steady. Once she was sure they could move without collapsing again, she got him inside of Stiles’ jeep, placing him gently in the passenger seat. She huffs, realizing she’ll have to leave her bike here, but there’s no way she’s going to let Stiles handle Derek in the jeep alone. He’ll just have to take her back for her motorcycle later.

Fallon sits comfortably in the back, Stiles getting into the driver’s side. Derek sticks his head out the window, “I need you to find out what kind of bullet they used.”

Scott scoffs, “How the hell am I supposed to do that?” He asks, throwing his arms up.

“Because she’s an Argent,” he says. “She’s with them.”

Scott narrows his eyes, “Why should I help you?”

Fallon looks at him with an exasperated expression. Now is not the time for vendetta’s or looking for reasons to help someone. She sends her friend a begging look, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Because, you need me,” Derek answers in a weak voice.

Scott looks over and sees a confused Allison walking toward them and decides to wrap up this scene as quickly as possible, “Fine,” he sighs. “ I'll try.” Scott turns to look at Stiles, who's expression makes it clear that he's feeling very put-out at the moment. “Hey, get him out of here.

Stiles shoots Scott a death-glare, “I hate you for this, so much.” Stiles puts the car into drive and sets off just as Allison comes up. They’re speeding out of the parking lot, happy to get away from the angry crowd that started forming around them.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Stiles drives the injured wolf and Fallon in his jeep. There’s a tense silence surrounding them, Derek grunting in pain while Stiles shoots him angry side glances. Fallon taps her foot impatiently as she stares at her text message thread with Scott. She has to have texted him at least eight times in the past twenty minutes. She doesn’t mean to rush, but this situation seems pretty dire. Like go there, find it, make up an excuse and leave kind of situation. Not go have a whole dinner with her family.

“What the hell is taking him so long?” Fallon grumbles, tossing her phone to the seat next to her. Her frustration is evident which only gets worse when Stiles smirks at her through the rear view mirror.

“Maybe he’s busy…” he wiggles his eyebrows. “Y’know gettin’ busy.”

Fallon cringes at the innuendo, “Are you serious right now?” She scolds him.

“Stop talking,” Derek seethes, closing his eyes tightly. They stopped flashing between blue and green which is a good sign, but the low growl in his voice is enough to make her sink back into her seat.

“I’m just saying,” Stiles defends himself. “Maybe he hasn’t done anything because he’s having fun. Which is what we should be doing rather than lugging dead wolf meat around,” he chides. That stupid smile appears on his face again, “I mean, I could totally see him and Allison–”

“Stop!” Derek shouts at the spastic boy, dangerously close to striking him in the back of the head.

“Okay, you don’t need to be yelling,” Fallon directs at Derek, staring at him through the mirror. “So why don’t you stop talking and sit there squirming in pain.”

He looks back at her, fury in his irises. “Shut up.”

“Hey, you need us a hell of a lot more than we need you,” Fallon narrows her eyes. “You came to me to save your ass, remember that? You’re the one bleeding out.”

Stiles nods, “Yeah, and uh speaking of that, try not to get it all over my seats, kay? We’re almost there anyway.”

“Almost where?” Derek hisses, turning his attention away from the brunette in the back. His hand is still covering the wound, blood slowly seeping onto his fingers. The tourniquet is still doing its job of slowing down the bleeding, but judging by his half-lidded eyes, it’s not going to do any good for much longer.

“Your house,” Stiles says, his voice calmer than it was a second ago. He slows to a stop when the traffic light ahead turns red. There’s no one else on the road with them which makes having Derek in the car less difficult. No one to explain their actions to.

“What?” Derek’s head snaps over the boy. “No, you can’t take me there.”

Stiles looks at him incredulously, “I can’t take you to your own house?”

“Not when I can’t protect myself!” Derek argues.

Stiles huffs angrily before turning his wheel roughly. He pulls off to the side of the road, turning off the jeep as he faces Derek fully, his nostrils flaring. “All right. What happens if Scott doesn't find your little magic bullet? Hmm? Are you dying?”

“Not yet,” Derek shakes his head.

“I’d really prefer it if you didn’t,” Fallon mumbles.

“I have a last resort,” he reveals, groaning loudly when another wave of pain hits him.

“What do you mean? What last resort?” Stiles yells.

Derek pulls his sleeve up fully, exposing the wound in all its glory. Fallon hadn’t seen the whole thing, only what his ripped shirt permitted. Stiles flinches violently from the sight while gagging, “Oh, my God. What is that?” He averts his gaze, looking out the window. “Oh, is that contagious?” He gasps. “You know what, you should probably just get out.”

“Stiles start the damn car!” Fallon yells at him. “He’s dying, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t need you making a bigger deal of it.”

“Listen to your girlfriend,” Derek adds menacingly.

“Again, not dating,” she points between her and Stiles.

“Hey! Alright, I don't think you should be barking orders with the way you look, okay? In fact, I think, if I wanted to, I could probably drag your little Werewolf ass out into the middle of the road and leave you for dead.”

Silence.

“Start the car… or I’m gonna rip your throat out… with my teeth,” Derek growls menacingly.

The two boys stare at each other for a solid minute or so before Stiles finally reaches for the keys, sliding them into the ignition. Fallon exhales softly, melting into her seat as she thanks whatever force out there stopped a fight between Stiles and a man twice his size.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon bites her nails anxiously as she and Scott text back and forth. Derek’s not looking too good, Scott. Have you found anything?

His response comes back short. Need more time. She puffs out an irritated breath. That’s the only response she’s gotten from him in about two and a half hours. The sun is already set and it’s starting to become dark out. The sky was an ombré of red, orange, yellow, and blue as the night approaches. Fallon feels terrible for Stiles and the fact he had a full tank before this fiasco started. They’ve been driving around all day. They had no idea where to take Derek. Stiles’ house was obviously a no go as his dad is the sheriff and would probably lose his mind if he found out Derek had been there. They can’t take him to Scott’s either as Melissa would freak out if they snuck in unannounced again.

“Why can’t we just take him to your place?” Stiles suggests.

Fallon shakes her head, “My dad’s off tonight.”

“But he’s fine with Scott and I being there all the time,” Stiles shrugs.

“Because he knows you both,” Fallon counters. “We could probably get away with it if your dad didn’t tell him about all the crime life here,” she sighs. “But he does. So my dad knows what the almost dead werewolf here looks like,” she says, eyeing up the man in the passenger seat. “And let’s just say he wouldn’t exactly be keen on having an almost murderer in his house.”

“Thanks,” Derek shoots a glare her way.

“I’m not the one who reported you to the sheriff,” she reminds him. “Your issues are with him,” she points to Stiles, “and your bestie beta who’s currently finding the magical bullet to save your life.”

“I am going to claw your eyes out if you don’t keep your mouth shut,” his eyes flash blue in her direction.

“Take my ears off while you’re at it,” she suggests sarcastically. “That way I won’t have to hear you complain about everything.”

“I’m so confused whether you like each other or not,” Stiles furrows his eyebrows.

“Not,” Derek answers while Fallon says, “It’s complicated,” at the same time.

The two passengers jerk to the side as Stiles rapidly pulls over once more. He picks up his phone too fast, almost dropping it in the process as he brings it up to his ear. “Oh thank God,” he breathes out. “Did you find anything… Well, what are we supposed to do with him?” He groans.

Fallon leans forward, gripping Stiles’ chair, “What’s he saying?”

Stiles swats her away like a mother would her child. Fallon scrunches her eyebrows, leaning back in her seat offended. “And, by the way, he’s starting to smell,” there’s a short pause. “Like death.”

Derek sends Stiles a withering glance before turning to look at Fallon, “Do I really smell like death?” He questions.

“Are you sure you want me to answer?” She snarks with a quirked brow. “Wouldn’t wanna make you claw my eyes out or anything,” she mocks his previous statement. Derek clenches his fists as he stares at her and she just smiles fakely. “And yes, you do smell like death.”

“Yeah, and they won’t stop arguing like freakin’ children. I feel like I’m running a daycare here. They got along for like the first hour and then all hell broke loose,” Stiles complains. Both Fallon and Derek resist the urge to physically harm the boy in some way. The crease in Stiles’ forehead deepens at whatever Scott says, “What about your boss?”

Stiles throws his head back into his chair before holding the phone out for Derek to take, “You’re not gonna believe where he’s asking me to take you.”

Derek ignores him, taking the chance to talk to Scott. “Did you find it?” He waits for Scott to explain what he’s been doing for the past almost three hours. “Look, if you don’t find it, then I’m dead, all right?… Then think about this-- the Alpha called you out against your will. He's gonna do it again. Next time, either you kill with him, or you get killed. So, if you wanna stay alive, then you need me. Find the bullet.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

The jeep rolls up to the animal clinic, taking one of the many empty parking spaces by the back entrance. Fallon tells Stiles to go find the key to unlock the building and that she’ll get Derek. She runs around to the passenger side, opening the door for the man. They resume their position from earlier at the school, his arm haphazardly draped over her shoulders and her arms securely fastened around his waist . She drags him towards the door, Stiles holding it open as his phone buzzes with another message from Scott.

“Please tell me he found something,” she begs, panting heavily as she goes to set him down in the back room.

Stiles furrows his eyebrows, “Maybe…” He looks up from his device to glance at Derek, “Does Northern Blue Monkshood mean anything to you?” He asks.

Derek nods, his head flopping slightly so Fallon lifts it up. “It’s a rare form of wolfsbane. He has to bring me the bullet.”

“Why?” Fallon queries as they finally reach the table. She pushes his body against it so she’s not holding him up entirely on her own.

Derek looks up at her weakly, “ ‘Cause I’m gonna die without it.”

Fallon’s heart drops into her stomach, “Crap…” she mumbles with a shaky exhale. She turns to look at Stiles, “Tell him to get here. Now.”

The threatening sound in her voice has Stiles scrambling to send Scott the message, informing him of the scary look on Fallon’s face. Derek begins tearing off hit clothing, ripping off his leather jacket smoothly before pulling his shirt with one hand over his head. He discards them by throwing them across the room before collapsing against the table once more. He lays his arm out for display, the bullet hole being a strange blue color, no doubt a reaction from the wolfsbane that’s slowly inching towards his heart. The blood dripping out of him is now black while the same color veins stretch up his arm from the wound.

Stiles bites his fist at the sight, gagging as he tries not to vomit all over the place. “Okay, you know, that really doesn't look like anything some echinacea and a good night's sleep couldn't take care of,” he waves off optimistically, wanting to get out of here as quickly as possible.

Fallon smacks him, “We are not leaving him, Stiles. He’s dying.” She shuffles through Destin’s things, trying to find some sort of surgical tool. “What we should do is get the bullet fragments out and try to stitch it up.” Working in the hospital has some perks. She might not legally be allowed to perform such a procedure, but nothing about this screams concern for legality.

“That won’t work,” Derek shakes his head which stops her from looking. “It’s already in my system. When the infection reaches my heart, it’ll kill me,” he breathes out.

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Positivity just isn’t in your vocabulary, is it?” He snarks sarcastically.

“Why don’t you try being shot in the arm,” Fallon quips back at her friend.

Stiles throws his hands up with an exhausted scoff, “Who’s side are you on?! One minute you’re arguing with him and telling him to die, the next you’re yelling at me! Make up your damn mind!”

Derek rips off Fallon's tourniquet, interrupting their argument as he attempts to replace it with a blue elastic band. She watches as he goes to tie it with his mouth and stops him. He glares at her as she takes it from him, a glare which she reciprocates before helping him put it in the same spot the other was. “If Scott doesn’t get here with the bullet in time– last resort,” he pants while looking through the drawers.

“Which is what?” Fallon questions.

He pulls out a small saw making her and Stiles grow paler than him. “You’re gonna cut off my arm.”

“Me?!” Fallon shouts, about ready to go along with Stiles’ plan and run out of there.

“No,” he denies before glancing at freckles. “Stiles.”

“What?!” He screams the same way Fallon did. “No. No, no, no, no, no, that’s not fair! Why do I have to do it? She’s more heartless than I am, she can do it,” he points.

Fallon scoffs and goes to rip him a new one, but Derek cuts her off. “No, Fallon needs to hold me down.”

“Why can’t I do that?” Stiles throws his arms up.

“Because looking between the two of you, I can tell her arms won’t snap if I start to push back,” Derek insults. “I need someone with muscle to be able to keep me from squirming.”

Stiles looks more than offended, “I- I have muscle,” he counters.

Derek sends him a pointed look which makes the boy shrink in on himself. Fallon takes a nervous step forward, standing next to Derek as she gets ready to hold him down. I’ll just close my eyes, she tells herself. I won’t get nightmares. This’ll be fine.

“What if you start begging me to let go and it’s too late?” She asks him, her concerns growing with every second she stares at the saw.

“That’s not gonna happen,” he answers.

“How do you know?” She scoffs. The black veins in his arm are starting to become much more prominent. “What if you try to tell me to let go because you’re bleeding out and I don’t hear you? Then you die from getting your arm sawed off. I don’t want to watch you die.”

Derek leans further into the table, “It’ll heal if it works.”

Stiles eyes the saw with a sickly expression. He swallows thickly, shaking his head. “Look, I don’t know if I can do this,” he admits, his overactive imagination not doing him any favors.

“Why not?” Derek says impatiently.

Stiles looks at him like he’s stupid, “Well, because of the cutting through the flesh, the sawing of the bone, and especially the blood!” He lists off exasperatedly.

“You faint at the sight of blood?” Derek asks incredulously.

“No, but I might at the sight of a chopped-off arm!” Stiles screeches in response.

“All right, fine. How about this– either you cut off my arm, or I'm gonna cut off your head,” Derek threatens.

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Okay, you know what? I'm so not buying your threats any–” Derek cuts him off by yanking him forward by the collar of his shirt. Stiles’ eyes widen as he tries to get out of his hold. “Oh, my God!” He gasps. “Okay. All right. Bought. Sold. Totally. I'll do it. I'll do it.”

Derek let’s go of him, the boy pushing himself away from the older werewolf. He turns to say something to Fallon, but she can see the distant look on his face. “Derek, what’s wrong?” She asks attentively. Instead of answering, his cheeks puff out and he lurches forward. Her eyes widen and she tries to take a step back, covering her face with her arms. His mouth flies open and black projectile vomit comes out of his mouth, splattering all over her. She gasps as the hot liquid drips down her body.

Fallon exhales with a small whimper. She shakes her hands, some of the vomit flinging off of her fingers. “It’s fine…” she tries to convince herself. “Everything’s fine… I didn’t even like this shirt anyway.”

Stiles' jaw hits the floor, his own bile rising in his throat. “Holy God, what the hell is that?!”

Fallon turns to Stiles, her facial expression is blank. “Stiles,” she wipes her cheek. “Do what he says.”

“But–” he goes to point at the saw.

“Now!” She screams at him. Despite the vomit all over her, she walks behind Derek and gets a good grip on him. She holds his arm in place and glares at Stiles, “Do it, now.” She orders, nodding towards the saw.

He grabs the saw for a moment before looking up to protest, “Look, honestly, I don’t think I can–”

“Just do it!” Derek and Fallon yell at the same time.

Stiles jumps at how scary their symphony of voices sound together. “Oh, my God. Okay, okay…” He starts the saw, a loud sound accompanying it. He starts putting it towards Derek’s arm, “Oh, my God.... All right, here we go…”

“Stiles! Fallon!” Scott’s voice rings through the clinic.

“Scott?” Stiles looks hopeful, glancing away from the death tool in his hand.

When Scott runs in, the first thing he sees is Fallon practically pinning Derek down while Stiles holds a miniature saw to his arm. His lopsided jaw goes slack, “What the hell are you guys doing?”

Stiles turns the saw off, stepping away from it with a relieved smile. “Oh, you just prevented a lifetime of nightmares,” he thanks his best friend.

Fallon steps away from Derek, every step she takes coming with a small ‘squelch’ sound. “Speak for yourself,” she grumbles.

The older man looks at Scott eagerly, “Did you get it?” He asks, searching for any sign of the bullet.

Scott reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small bullet and handing it to Derek. “What are you gonna do with it?” The brunette girl asks, wiping her face off with a towel she found near one of the kennels.

Derek holds the bullet up, “I’m gonna–” he stumbles, his speech much weaker. “I’m gonna–” Out of nowhere, the cure Scott worked so hard to find falls out of his fingers. Derek collapses, hitting the ground roughly as Scott and Stiles try to go after the bullet.

Fallon drops to her knees, eyes going wide as she stares at Derek’s unconscious form. She cups the side of his face with her right hand, shaking his shoulder with the other. He doesn’t move. “Derek! Derek, come on, wake up!” She pleads. Scott and Stiles are babbling in the distance, but she can’t understand a word they’re saying as her entire focus is on the almost dead man below her. Her eyes scan his body and her breath hitches when she notices his chest isn’t rising. She puts her fingers to his neck trying to find any sign of a pulse. It’s there, but not very strong. The weakest pulse she’s felt. Fallon wracks her brain for any kind of medical information she’s learned from the hospital to wake him up.

Her eyes lighten up as she leans forward, opening his mouth to see if there is any blockage. She notices chunks of the black vomit he spat at her earlier blocking his airway. She sticks her pointer and middle finger in his mouth, swiping out the liquid. She then quickly turns him on his side before putting her hand into a fist and hitting him in the back as hard as she can. His eyes shoot open, blue flashing across them as he coughs more blood on Fallon. She cringes but keeps patting his back to make sure all of it leaves his system.

“I got it!” Scott screams. “I got it!”

Stiles looks at Fallon with shock on his face, “Where did you learn how to do that?”

“The hospital,” she utters out quickly, bringing Derek to his feet. “I’ve seen Melissa do it on a choking baby. Obviously with much less force, but same principle.”

“Give me–” Derek gasps in pain as he takes the bullet from Scott’s hand, biting off the tip to expose where the gunpowder is. He empties it into his hand before pushing it forcefully into the wound. He howls loudly as blue smoke starts floating up from the gunshot hole. His face turns red as he falls back to the floor, writhing around in pain. His back arches upwards as he tries to fight against screaming anymore than he already has. Fallon watches in awe as his wound begins to heal at a rapid pace, the black veins slowly disappearing until the injury is completely gone.

“That… was… Awesome!” Stiles exclaims with a clap of his hands. He pumps his fist in the air as if they just got off of an amusement park ride. “Yes!”

“I’m gonna hit you,” Fallon tells him blatantly. Stiles’ face falls, but he knows better than to continue testing her. She walks closer to Derek, sticking her hand out to help him off the floor. “Are you okay?” She asks genuinely.

Derek accepts her offer, using her to get himself up. “Well, except for the agonizing pain…” he says sarcastically.

“I’m guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a good sign of health,” Stiles comments, crossing his arms. Derek sends a death stare his way making Fallon rolls her eyes as she moves away from him and over to where Stiles is standing.

“Okay, we saved your life, which means you're gonna leave us alone. You got that?” He instructs Derek. “And, if you don't, I'm gonna go back to Allison's dad, and I'm gonna tell him everything–” the threat is cut off by Derek who looks absolutely appalled by what he just said.

“You’re gonna trust them?!” He narrows his eyes. “You think they can help you?”

Scott shrugs his shoulders, “Well, why not?” He yells loudly. “They’re a lot freaking nicer than you are!”

Derek surges forward angrily, “I can show you exactly how nice they are.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon sighs tiredly as she parks her motorcycle in front of her house. Her eyes are practically closing as she trudges through the front door. Stiles had taken her back to the School to get her bike after Derek took Scott to show him how “evil” the Argents are. She closes the front door, a small click echoing behind her.

“Where have you been?”

Fallon flinches as the light to the living room suddenly flicks on. Michael is sitting in his chair in the living room, a book in his lap with a reading lamp sitting beside him. She looks like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle.

“I asked you a question,” he says. “Where have you been? It’s two in the morning.” His voice is more than just concerned or worried. He’s disappointed.

Fallon places her helmet on the kitchen counter before turning back to her dad, “I was out with Scott and Stiles,” she answers.

“Doing what?” He continues questioning. “You all know there’s a police enforced curfew, right? None of you should be out this late, especially on a school night,” he crosses his arms as he walks over to his daughter. “You didn’t text, call, nothing. I had no idea where you were. Now, normally I don’t care because I know you’re responsible, and ninety percent of the time you’re with the boys. But with everything that’s going on, the murders, the dead bodies, you need to start being more communicative.”

“Dad, all we did was drive around,” she defends. “Stiles wanted to go get food and stuff after school, so we went and did that and just hung out around town.”

“Really?” He asks, disbelieving every word coming out of her mouth. “Just eating and driving around?”

“Yes,” she shrugs.

“Then why not shoot me a text?” He lifts an eyebrow. “I don’t think that’s too hard, do you?”

“No,” she sighs, getting tired of this conversation already. “I’m sorry. Next time I plan on being out late, I’ll let you know what I’m doing.”

“Oh no,” Michael shakes his head. “There will be no next time. From now on, you will be home by the enforced curfew time. If the boys want to come over and stay the night, you know I have no problem with that. But you will not leave this house anytime after that, do you understand me?”

Fallon scoffs, “Dad, are you serious?” She says upsetly.

“Dead serious young lady,” he nods. “I don’t want to leave my shift at the hospital getting a call from Noah saying that they found my daughter's dead body somewhere in the woods. It’s dangerous out there, Fallon. I’m not going to allow you to engage in reckless behavior. I’m your father. It’s my job to keep you safe. You might hate me now, but it’s for the best,” he shuts his lamp off, setting his book back on their shared bookshelf in the living room. “You can complain about me all you want to the boys, but I’ve made up my mind,” he walks over towards the stairs before glancing back at his daughter. “Now go to bed. You still have school in the morning. You get to deal with the consequence of being tired.”

She watches after her father, shock written all over her face. She just saved a man’s life and pretty much got grounded at the same time. Michael is a very easy going parent. She got lucky in the dad department, and she knows that. Seeing and hearing him talk to her like that isn’t common. They usually don’t have issues to this extent. They have a mutual trust. But if he’s really that worried that he’s willing to confine her to the house, she’s going to have to listen to him.

Or get a lot more creative on how to sneak out.

They Don’t Know About Us

Peeta Mellark x Reader

TW: Regular Hunger Games angst, Coriolanus Snow being a douche, semi-sweet fluff. Let me know if I missed anything!

(This is based on the song “They Don’t Know About Us” by One Direction if you’d like to listen while reading 🤍)

✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩

Winning the Hunger Games was never something the children of the lower Districts were prepared for. All their lives, they watched as the Careers won countless times, with the occasional lower District pulling out a victory. When Y/N L/N was reaped for the 73rd Hunger Games at a mere fourteen years old, she never imagined she’d be the one to emerge victorious. The only other individual who won that young was Finnick Odair from District Four, who had become a rather close friend of the now sixteen year old from District Nine.

During her games, Y/N was assumed to be the weakest link. She was easily underestimated by the other Tributes, until the individual evaluation scores came back.

An eleven.

After that, she had a rather large target on her back. Not that it mattered. At fourteen years old, she killed twelve Tributes on her own. No alliances, no sponsor gifts, absolutely nothing. Just her sickle and a belt of daggers wrapped around her waist to get her to victory.

She truly thought that was the end of it. The moment she stepped out of the arena, leg broken, blood profusely cascading down her face from the cut on her forehead, she thought it was over. But she was so wrong. She had no idea what was in store for her when she stepped foot back into the Capitol.

Unbeknownst to her, she was and remains a fan favorite to this day. The people of the Capitol adored her. They love her snarky remarks yet cherish her innocent eyes when she bats her lashes on stage. They love the way she dances at the parties the Capitol throws, and how polite she is when someone offers her a drink. She didn’t realize escaping those games would mean being stuck in another cage. Snow’s cage to be exact.

He kept her under surveillance quite often. Never let her stray too far from him. She was special. He knew that the second he watched her impale someone with her sickle in the original bloodbath. He knew when he watched how graceful she moved walking on stage for her interview with Caesar. And it was all confirmed for him when he watched her dancing with such fluidity during her Victors tour that he knew he had to keep her close. She had a certain power, a way to make audiences listen to her. And at such a young age, that’s too much of a threat.

Y/N spent most of her time in the Capitol, rarely being able to visit home. She tried to fight it in the beginning, but once Snow threatened her family, she knew better than to defy him. So she tried her hardest to find a home in the place that took advantage of her and stole her innocence.

It wasn’t all bad being stuck. She met many people, older Victors who helped her adjust since her winnings. Finnick Odair and Johanna Mason have been particularly helpful. Finnick is around much more than Johanna and he’s taken on a brotherly figure in her life, protecting her from the rotten slime of the Capitol. He felt for the young girl. She won at the same age he did and managed to obtain the highest amount of kills out of any Tribute. Simply observing her, he knew that she would be haunted by her Games for the rest of her life. She might’ve got out of the arena, but she never won. None of them did.

Whenever she would wake up screaming from a nightmare, he was there. He would sit with her until she fell asleep, humming soft sea shanty’s for her.

They got stuck in a pattern for awhile. One that they didn’t necessarily like, but that they got used to. At least until the 74th Hunger Games ended. Y/N’s Tributes didn’t last very long. They made it further than some, but not far enough to be noticeable. Finnick could tell that the girl purposefully didn’t mentor the best way she could’ve so the children didn’t have to face the fate of a Victor. He didn’t blame her. Most of the other mentors are the same way. But when Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark both were crowned Victors, something in Y/N shifted.

It wasn’t in the way that most would think. Yes, she shifted in the aspect that the tables of power seem to be turning, but she suddenly appeared happier. He noticed her being absent more, disappearing from her room late at night, and even being more secretive about who she speaks to. He didn’t know what caused the shift until the 74th Games’ Victory tour. The moment he walked into their party in the President’s mansion, he saw what caused the change.

Y/N stands by one of the many large pillars of the mansion, hiding behind the marble structure. She giggles under her breath as she watches Peeta try his hardest to look around discretely. He has no idea that she’s looking right at him. She furrows her eyebrows, losing him in the large sea of people that are all there for him and Katniss. A small frown makes its way onto her face until a pair of strong hands grips her hips softly.

She lets out a quiet yelp before spinning around. She smiles when Peeta’s honey brown eyes meet hers and a cheeky little smile takes over his face. “Hi,” she greets shyly.

“Hi,” he replies, finding the light pink dusting on her cheeks adorable. He pulls her gently to hide them a little more in the shadows. There’s too many people here who wouldn’t be thrilled seeing the two of them together in this proximity. Especially since he is supposedly married to Katniss.

“How are you enjoying the party?” She asks quietly, resting her hands on his chest with a teasing smile.

“It’s a bit underwhelming,” he comments sarcastically, glancing around the area with a high level of distaste.

“You can say it’s appalling,” Y/N assures him. “People are starving in the Districts and here they don’t even bother finishing their plates.” She can see the cogs turning in his brain. Ever since she’s met him, she’s admired how big his heart is. If he could save every individual in the Districts, he would. But the last thing they need is to draw unwanted attention to themselves getting worked up over something they can’t currently control. She sighs, shaking off the agitation before cupping the side of his face. “Hey, it’s alright. Nobody said you have to enjoy tonight.”

“Are you enjoying it?” He queries.

She shakes her head, “Never in a million years.” A cocky grin takes over her face as she stands on her tippy toes to get closer to him, “I am enjoying your company though.”

Her answer makes him smirk as well before he places a small kiss on her lips. Peeta cherishes every moment he gets to spend with Y/N as most of their time together is fleeting. They can only be together for mere minutes at a time in order to avoid suspicion. The only two people who know about their dalliance are Haymitch and Katniss, who have been supportive in their own creative ways. They try their hardest to give the young couple more time together, but it gets rather difficult when Peeta and Katniss need to be seen together all the time.

In order to make up for the time that they lose, Peeta and Y/N create their own ways to display their affections. Sometimes it entails slipping love notes in one another’s pockets in passing, pulling each other behind large structures to sneak in a kiss, leaving their rooms in the middle of the night to meet in a dark alleyway just to have some time to themselves.

Neither of them minded it. It was thrilling almost to know that nobody knew about them. Sneaking behind Snow’s back gave them both a sense of freedom that they thought they’d never get back. Peeta sighs happily as he rests his head against hers. Y/N rubs the pad of her thumb on the back of his hand, “When do you have to leave?” She asks him in a whisper.

The smile on his face falls, “Tomorrow morning,” he answers. “With the 75th reaping coming up, Katniss and I have to be back in Twelve.”

She nods in understanding, “Then I guess we’ll just have to make the most of tonight.” Her smile is solemn, but she knows better than to make him feel bad for their lack of time. She won’t be leaving the Capitol for another two days. Snow is only allowing her to return home solely for the Reaping.

“That we will,” Peeta smirks. He plays with a loose strand of her hair, twirling it between his fingers. “Meet me tonight at our spot?”

“Always.”

And she did just that. About four hours after the party ends, Y/N manages to sneak out of her suite. She uses her stealth to make it all the way up to the roof without alerting any nearby Peacekeepers of her late night rendezvous with the Baker Boy from Twelve. She slowly pushes open the heavy door that leads outside and she gently slides it closed. Clearly her silence is rather impressive as Peeta, who is standing at the ledge of the building, didn’t hear her coming up behind him.

She smiles before walking forward and wrapping her hands around his eyes, “Guess who?”

Peeta tenses at first, not expecting his sight to be impaired, but he’s quick to relax when he recognizes Y/N’s voice. “Well I can happily say it’s not Haymitch,” he tells her jokingly.

Y/N chuckles, allowing him to turn around as their lips meet in a sweet embrace. She wraps her arms around his neck, her fingers fiddling with his soft blonde hair. He wasn’t kidding in his interview with Caesar before his Games. He really does smell like roses, and maybe a hint of cinnamon and other sweet spices from his time spent in the bakery.

Peeta casually lifts her up by her thighs, setting her down on the ledge of the roof so she can sit. He cages her in with his muscular arms, simply admiring how the moonlight makes her skin glow. The stars in the sky could never compare to the way her eyes constantly shine. He knows that she would never be able to see the beauty he sees. Her damage prevents her from seeing the wonderful things he sees, but he has no issue showing it to her. He would gladly spend the rest of his life showing Y/N all the things that make her the stunning woman she is.

“What?” Y/N questions, blushing slightly from him staring at her for so long. “Do I got something in my teeth?” A dopey smile covers her face at her attempt to joke.

“I’m just looking at the most beautiful woman in Panem,” he answers simply with a shrug. That’s all.”

Y/N giggles, “Don’t you know, Mister Mellark?” She laces her hands with his, “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

It was moments like this, holding her in his arms where Peeta momentarily forgets of their circumstances. He forgets that they’re under the control of tyrannical dictator who could easily torture them and their family for their forbidden romance. Staring into her sparkling e/c eyes, it made him realize that there has to be more than this. There has to be more for them somewhere. Where they can be together without worrying about being executed. That’s when Katniss’s words echo in his mind.

“Run away with me,” he blurts out.

Y/N’s eyes go wide, “What?” She asks incredulously, not believing what she’s hearing.

“C’mon Y/N,” he begs with a sweet desperation. “Think about it. If we left now, no one would know. We could run away somewhere, away from here. We could be happy.”

His words sound more than enticing. She wants to, more than anything. But leaving her family to face the consequences of those actions is out of the question. Her realism prevents her from even dreaming of such a possibility. She knows they wouldn’t even make it to the entrance of the Capitol before being shot down by Peacekeepers.

“Peeta…” Y/N says softly, her tone already giving away her answer. “You know we can’t do that. They’d find us in a week,” she frowns as she watches the light behind his eyes dim.

Disappointment radiates around them. Y/N loves his determination to get them the life together that they want. The two teens never thought they’d meet someone they’d connect with so deeply. They don’t even know the jealousy they invoke from the very few people who do know about them. The romance they share is something everyone would covet, even though it has to be hidden.

The blonde sighs defeatedly. She’s right. Even if they did somehow miraculously get out of the Capitol unseen, they’d still have the issue of finding where to run to. “I know,” he admits quietly. “But it doesn’t hurt to think about. Just you and me in an abandoned cabin, far away from all of this.”

Y/N squeezes his bicep with a sad smile, “Maybe someday.” Hope is a dangerous thing for people in Panem, especially false hope. Staring into his eyes, she almost believes that it could be possible. Perhaps she does deserve that happy ending despite the atrocities she’s committed.

The couple simply spends the next few hours in each others arms. They exchange stories of their homes, their families, the hobbies that distract them from the life they live. Y/N can’t wait to bake with Peeta one day. The way his eyes light up when he talks about being in the kitchen, it makes her wish she had taken up the art sooner. Peeta on the other hand is always entranced when she talks to him about her passion for dancing. He’s seen her on the dance floor a couple of times and he can see how much she truly loves it. It transports her to another world.

Y/N even takes it upon herself to show him a simple waltz on that rooftop. The two break into a fit of giggles every time Peeta accidentally steps on her toes or when he gets too focused and his tongue subconsciously pokes out of his mouth. Even though it’s been a few hours, it still doesn’t feel long enough. They continue to talk about meaningless nothings, but as soon as the sun rises from its long slumber, they know their time has come to an end.

“I don’t want you to go,” Y/N mumbles, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. His grip on her waist is tight as he holds her as close to him as she can.

“I don’t want to go either,” he whispers, kissing her temple. “But it’s not for forever, okay? We’ll see each other soon. I promise.”

And how right he was. But he was right in a way that made both him and Y/N sick to their stomachs. When he promised her they’d see each other again, she didn’t think it would be under the circumstances of them both being reaped for the 75th Hunger Games.

Y/N seethed with anger the moment she heard the words leave Snow’s mouth. She had gotten home only moments before the announcement, and as soon as he walked into her large house in the Victors Village, that is what she was met with.

There aren’t many other Victors in District Nine, and she’s well aware that none of them hold as high of a reputation as her. So deep down, she knew her name would be the one called. She would be forced right back into the place that made her a monster in the first place. Sixteen years old and she’s now been reaped twice. Looking at her Tribute partner on that stage, she knew she’d be able to take him. He’s older, no doubt his reflexes have been impaired due to lack of time training. Her only having won two years ago gives her a certain edge, and not too be blunt, but her young age comes with its perks as well.

When they arrived at the Capitol, her and her Tribute partner are briefed on the other Tributes who were reaped. Her stomach twists in knots as she watches Finnick’s face flash across the screen. He’s basically her older brother and now they have to fight to the death. She bites her bottom lip anxiously as their “mentor” continues to show them their opponents. Y/N bites her lip anxiously as he moves onto the District Twelve Tributes. She knows Katniss doesn’t have a choice as she is the only female Victor, but she hopes with every fiber of her being that Haymitch is the person she sees next on that screen.

Peeta Mellark.

Her heart shatters into a million pieces. At that moment, Y/N told herself she would do anything to get him out. She would kill whoever it takes and even sacrifice her own life to make sure Peeta survives. He has too pure of a soul to be put back into the arena, but the odds never seem to be quite in his favor. Or any of their favors for that matter. Her fists are clenched so tightly that they’ve turned pale. An intimidating frown etches its way onto her face as they’re released to their stylists to be prepared for the Tribute Parade.

Being from District Nine, she wasn’t expecting much. The stylist she had during her games practically put her in a burlap sack with pieces of wheat in her hair and called it good. She’s escorted down the hallway, but becomes increasingly confused as two Peacekeepers emerge from both sides of her.

“Miss L/N, come with us. The President has requested your presence,” the taller of the two guards announces.

She furrows her eyebrows. What would Snow want with her only a few hours before the Parade? She’s used to being summoned to see the President due to him keeping her on such a tight leash, but she wasn’t expecting a call from him during the preparation process.

They stop at a wooden door, covered in a dark burgundy paint. There’s a small golden snake that rests in the center, serving as a way to knock on the door. The Peacekeeper to her right utilizes the tool and a small “come in” is muttered by their dear leader. The second Y/N’s foot makes it through the door, she feels the need to vomit. The venomous smile on the man’s face is enough to make her question the decision she made to try and survive the arena the first time.

“Miss L/N,” he greets, “Please, take a seat.”

Knowing better than to fight the titan in front of her, she slowly inches down into the armchair in front of his desk. He retains his smile, his gaze never leaving her form. He folds his hands together and rests them on the desk, “How unfortunate we have to meet again under such pitiful circumstances.”

She swallows thickly, “Yes, I suppose it is quite a shame.” Her voice is as polite as she can make it. Her posture is rigid and her tone is ice cold. Something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the man in front of her, but he does appreciate her effort to save face.

“Miss L/N, are you aware of why I have called you here?” He asks as if he was a teacher trying to teach a lesson. Y/N knows there’s something much more sinister going on, but she finds herself becoming too afraid to know what it could be.

“No,” she replies shortly.

He lifts an eyebrow in amusement. A small, almost disappointed sigh escapes his lips as he fiddles with one of the many white roses in the vase on his desk. “Perhaps a visual aid will help you understand why I’ve requested your presence.”

He presses the button on the hologram sitting at the center of his desk and Y/N’s breath hitches in her throat as an image of her and Peeta kissing on the rooftop flashes in front of her. Her jaw falls slack. She thought they were careful. There had been no cameras the previous times they’ve met there. No Peacekeepers were around. It made no sense. He wasn’t supposed to know.

Dread fills her entire body. She had been gone from Nine since yesterday. He could’ve easily slaughtered her entire family in that amount of time. Was this why she was reaped? What if he tries to kill Peeta specifically in the arena because of this?

“Relax, my dear,” Snow’s smug expression makes her blood boil. He flicks of the projection before focusing fully on the girl in front of him. “I understand the appeal of forbidden love. It’s rather exciting, is it not?” Y/N can feel him about to sink his teeth into her soft flesh. She can feel the numerous amount of threats about to leave his lips. “Unfortunately, your love story with Mister Mellark is not apart of the narrative I’ve so carefully curated.” She’s startled by how calm he sounds, but that has always been the unnerving thing about Snow. No one ever knows what truly goes on in his mind as he hides his true intentions behind his politics. “I truly am disappointed that you haven’t been honest with me Miss L/N. I thought we were better than that.”

Y/N’s at a loss for words. She simply stares at the President, digging her nails into the supple flesh of her palms as she tries to hold back the anger bubbling inside of her. “The relationship between Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark is one that inspires hope,” he begins. “It distracts the people of Panem, keeps the system in balance. Our citizens have fallen in love with their love. They follow their story. The last thing we need is a scandal, wouldn’t you agree?”

Her eyes are steely as she grits her teeth, “Yes sir.”

“The star-crossed lovers will not be interfered with,” he instructs. “And if I find that you’ve continued this dalliance, I am well accustomed to finding a suitor for you myself. Perhaps through the same methods of your dear friend Finnick Odair?”

There it is. The threat she was waiting for. She knows all about Snow and how he sells the Victors deemed desirable. He never sold her when she won because she was too precious too him. Her talent for dancing and kind persona are what kept him from selling her off to the highest bidder. He figured she would be more valuable as an item people could see, but not touch. Clearly he is willing to sacrifice that because of her defiance.

“I don’t believe that will be necessary,” she says, keeping her voice as steady as possible. Anyone listening to this conversation would believe it is as civil as it could get, but the look behind both of their eyes suggests a silent duel is going on between the two. Neither of them blink as a satisfied smile appears on Snow’s face. “Whatever you saw, it won’t happen again.

“Good,” he nods approvingly. “I knew I could count on you to be sensible.”

Y/N stands without another word. She dusts herself off as the Peacekeepers open the door for her. As soon as she’s rounded the corner to head to her stylist, that’s when the tears start cascading down her cheeks. She puts a hand over mouth to muffle her sobs as she sinks down onto the floor. She should’ve known that their secret wouldn’t have stayed that way for long. Snow always has a way of finding things out, and now she’s not only out her life in jeopardy, but Peeta’s as well.

That’s when she realizes that he doesn’t even know what just happened. She squeezes her eyes tightly in pain, knowing that she’ll have to end things with the only person who’s managed to make her feel whole again after emerging from the arena. Picturing the heartbreak on his face is enough to make her want to beg someone to kill her in the bloodbath. But she won’t. She can’t. She made a vow to herself that she would protect Peeta, keep him safe. Even if they can’t be together, she won’t let him die.

Her tears dry and a certain determination fuels her to keep moving. She wipes her face and forgets all of her emotions on the floor she just left. There’s no use in mourning. She needs to be in the correct headspace if she’s going to get him out.

And she will.

————————————————————————

Pt. 2 anyone?

Prologue

Episode 1

     A small bead of sweat drips down the little ten-year-old girl’s forehead as she grips onto her father's hand tightly. She watches anxiously as kids run back and forth, screaming at the top of their lungs during recess. Her eyes travel up to her father's, her bottom lip quivering just slightly knowing she’ll have to let go. She’s been to at least four schools in the past year and has not been able to make a friend. At least one that sticks anyway. 

“I don’t understand,” she says quietly to her father. “You said that I’m older than all of them. So why do I have to go play?” 

The young girl, Fallon Donovan, was supposed to be in the fourth grade, but due to her fathers job the two were constantly moving which forced her to stay back a grade. She didn’t like the feeling of being held back. She knew deep down that all the rest of the kids would assume it’s because of her lack of intellect. Which isn’t true at all. She just hasn’t stayed in a place long enough to get caught up with each district's curriculum as it differs from place to place. 

“Because sweetheart, you gotta go try to make friends,” her dad tries to convince. 

“But why do I have to be stuck in this grade? You always tell me how smart I am. Why can't I just go with the older kids?” 

Michael Donovan sighs, crouching down to his daughter's height. He can’t help but blame himself for their current predicament. Ever since Fallon’s mother Grace passed, he’s been struggling to make things work for the two of them. “You are smart,” he encourages. “The smartest kid I know. But you know that it’s not your fault you got held back, right? It’s just because daddy’s job moves us around a lot, so you just need time to catch up to what these kids are learning,” his explanation is soft and gentle, bringing Fallon a sense of ease.

“But what if we don’t stay long enough?” She questions, swaying back and forth. 

Michael moves a stray piece of hair that fell out of her haphazard fishtail braid. He wasn’t exactly proud of his handiwork, but he’s trying to get the hang of it. “I think this will be our last stop for awhile, Fall. I promise,” he reassures. He grunts before standing back up to his full stature, patting his young girls back. “Now go out there and show those kids how awesome you are.” 

Swallowing thickly, Fallon wraps her small arms around her fathers legs before running off to the playground. She doesn’t look back at him, knowing if she does she might never actually be able to stay at her new school. Her father watches after her with a fond smile. His brave girl. Doesn’t even need to wave goodbye. He shoves his hands into his jeans and travels back over to his car, hoping that his daughter has a good day. She may be his little girl, but he’s aware that her attitude can be rather dangerous. Fallon is no stranger to being suspended from schools for her sarcasm and deadpan threats. 

The ten year old finds her way over to the swing set, noticing how there’s not many kids there to bother her. She pushes herself off the ground, using the chains to remain steady as she begins to swing back and forth. Fallon doesn’t mind being alone for the time being. She wasn’t expecting to make any friends on the first day. She is the new girl after all. 

As she kicks her feet harder, she doesn’t even realize how high she truly ends up going. The air catches her hair, blowing it backwards which causes a small smile to etch its way onto her face. The cute grin is short-lived though when she glances over to the sand pit and sees a group of four boys taking transformer toys away from another two kids. She narrows her eyes, jumping off the swing. Her feet kick up sand as he marches over to the small pit. 

The two kids being bullied are no doubt in her grade. One of them is a pasty white, freckles decorating his little body. His hair is a lighter brown that sticks in many different directions. The other boy’s jaw is a little lopsided which Fallon finds rather endearing. His eyes are a deep chocolate brown, and his hair is a bit darker than his counterparts. 

“Give it back, Tony!” The pasty one yells, standing from his spot to appear more intimidating. “That's ours!” 

“Oh,” Tony fake pouts, teasing the two boys with the toy he just stole. “What are you gonna do about it? Cry like the little baby you are?” His friends snicker behind him which only makes Fallon’s blood boil hotter. 

“Just leave us alone,” the other boy begs. “We didn’t do anything to you.” 

“Zip it, McCall!” Tony snaps before kicking sand up at the both of them. The two boys cough and wipe their faces to try and get the sand out of their eyes. 

“Hey!” Fallon yells, shoving the bully as she steps in between his group and the two boys that have been targeted. Tony stumbles backwards as Fallon glares at him harshly, “They said leave them alone.” 

Tony and his friends look at each other, unsure of how to react. That is until the ring leader himself walks up to Fallon with a cocky grin, “And why would we listen to you? You’re just a stupid girl.” 

“I am not stupid,” she growls. “Now give them their toys back.” 

The two boys she’s protecting watch her in complete awe. No one has ever stood up to Tony, ever. That’s how they knew she must be new to the school. She wasn’t afraid of him or his friends. Even though she was much smaller than the rest of them, she still stood her ground which is more than most of the kids could say.

Tony steps forward, “What are you gonna do about it, Princess?” He mocks, once again evoking smug laughs from his posse. 

Without much hesitation, Fallon’s fist flies forward, knocking Tony square in the nose. He falls to the floor, the Transformers action figures falling into the sand allowing the brunette to quickly swoop them up. Tony’s friends scamper away, now frightened by the unhinged girl in front of them. Tony himself whimpers into his hand as he tries to stop his now bloody nose from getting all over his shirt. He doesn’t say anything else before running off with his friends to the furthest side of the playground. 

Fallon huffs, dusting off her jeans which have little flower patches on them. The hand she used to punch Tony is slightly red, but nothing too damaging. The two boys behind her are still staring at her, jaws practically touching the floor. She giggles as walks closer to them, handing them their action figures back. 

“Hi,” she greets cheerfully. “I’m Fallon.” 

Instead of saying his own name, the boy with many freckles on his face jumps up and down, flailing his arms all over the place. “That! Was! Awesome!” He exclaims. “You are the coolest person ever.” 

“Thanks,” she grins. “What are your guys' names?” She asks with the small tilt of her head. 

“I’m Scott,” the darker haired boy says. 

“And I’m Stiles,” states the boy she now wants to call freckles. 

“Thanks for getting our toys back,” Scott says gratefully. “Tony always comes and tries to take the new stuff they put in the sand pit.” 

“He’s rude,” Fallon scoffs. “I don’t like him.”

“None of us do,” Stiles adds sarcastically. “But he beats up the people who don’t listen to him.” 

“Well, not anymore,” Fallon says with her head held high. “If he tries to take your stuff again, I’ll punch him even harder next time. I’ll knock his teeth out and make sure the tooth fairy doesn’t give him money for it.” 

“You can do that?” Both of them asked, completely amazed by the statement that just left her mouth. 

“Mhm,” Fallon nods. “My dad knows her. I can put a good word in for you guys if you want?” 

“Yes!” Stiles exclaims as Scott just nods his head fervently. 

“Do you maybe wanna play with us?” Scott asks, pointing to their designated spot in the sand pit. “We need someone to play with Optimus Prime to complete our game.”

“Really?” Fallon asks with an excited twinkle in her eyes. “You mean it?” 

“Yeah!” Stiles insists, plopping down in his spot. He pats the empty space next to him, “You can sit next to me.” 

“Okay,” Fallon agrees, falling criss-cross applesauce beside Stiles. Scott sits directly across from them and the trio begins their journey with the Autobots. 

Fallon silently thanks her father for showing her the Transformers movies and the different lore behind them or else she would be completely lost during this interaction. “So,” Stiles begins, “You’re new here, right?”

“Yeah,” Fallon answers. “I moved here from New York,” she explains. “My dads job moves him around a lot so I’ve been to a lot of places.” 

“Even the moon?” Scott wonders.

Fallon laughs, “Not yet. I hope we don’t go there.” 

“Yeah, that would suck,” Stiles agrees. “You just got here.” 

“My dad said we were gonna stay here,” Fallon shrugs, moving her action figure across the sand. “So hopefully I don’t have to go anywhere for a while. It gets lonely trying to find friends in new schools. It’s hard to talk to other kids,” she admits. 

“You’re talking to us,” Scott points out.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she smiles at the two boys. 

“Do you wanna be our new best friend?” Stiles bluntly asks. 

“Stiles,” Scott scolds. “You can’t just ask people to be our best friend. That’s weird. You’re gonna scare her off.” 

“You won’t scare me off,” Fallon shakes her head. “I don’t get scared easily. My dad says I’m super brave. But I would love to be your best friend!” She tells them. “As long as you guys will let me.” 

“See? It’s not weird,” Stiles sticks his tongue out at Scott. “Now we have a new friend.” 

Scott is quick to fly across the sand pit and begin wrestling Stiles. Fallon laughs loudly at the two boys, blocking her face from the sand coming at her. “Guys! Stop!” She giggles. “We only have a couple more minutes before we have to go back inside and we haven’t even finished the story yet.” 

Reluctantly, Scott gets off of Stiles and moves back to his spot in the sand pit so they can continue their game. The boys never thought they’d meet someone who’d fit so seamlessly in their little duo, which now seems to be more of a trio. The three of them laugh together as they come up with random pieces of dialogue for their characters that make absolutely no sense. 

As Scott starts his own monologue with the small action figure in his hand, Stiles finds himself staring at the girl next to him. Small specks of sand in her dark hair, perfectly straight teeth, and choppy bangs covering her forehead. She is really pretty. Maybe as pretty as his little crush, Lydia Martin. 

“Stiles,” Fallon nudges his shoulder with her own. “It’s your turn.” 

The boy blinks before turning his attention back to their game, “Okay. Let’s finish this before Ms. Clifford makes us put everything away.” 

Fallon didn’t realize that at that moment she found herself two true friends. Ones that will stick by her through thick and thin despite the unknown facing them. When they learned that the triangle was the strongest shape in nature, they didn’t know how true that statement was until they looked at each other. Smiling at Stiles and Scott, Fallon felt like Beacon Hills would be her final stop. A place where she could finally put down roots and find her own misfit family. 

Jealousy, Jealousy

Derek Hale x Reader

TW: Mentions of blood and death, werewolfy things, Stiles being an absolute spaz, age gap, Jennifer Blake (cause she’s a warning on her own), major feels, and a tiny bit of angst, some bad words. I think that it y’all. Once again, let me know if I missed something!

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

There have always been two constants in Y/N L/N life when it came to living in Beacon Hills, life threatening creatures and the possibility of her imminent death. When she became friends with Stiles Stilinski and Scott McCall in Kindergarten, she wasn’t completely aware of what she signed up for. Most people would think the constant Star Wars marathons with Stiles and lacrosse training with Scott would’ve drove her away early on, but she stayed. Not that they’d let her leave even if she tried. Having them as her best friends has always been a blessing and a curse. She would do anything for them, but she didn’t know anything included becoming a supernatural creature.

A werewolf to be precise.

The night of the dance their sophomore year, Y/N had seen Lydia walk out of the dance in which she assumed was in search of Jackson. But when she saw the blonde boy lingering in the hallways, she had a feeling something was off. When she went in search of the girl and found her at the lacrosse field, there was no escaping their inevitable fate. That was one of the many times Y/N thought she’d meet her end. Watching Peter Hale run towards them at fully speed before taking a nice bite out of their skin was not on her bucket list for the evening.

Since then there have been plenty adventures for the “McCall Pack” as she’d like to call it. Allison’s grandfather Gerard coming to town, the Kanima, Derek and his pack trying to kill Lydia, then finding out it was Jackson, only to have him turn into a werewolf and run off to London. There might have been a couple kidnappings and restraining order somewhere in there, but those are minor details.

And, of course, with a new year comes new threats. There has been a recent string of kidnappings that turned into murders that none of them have been able to solve yet. They’ve tried as a group to brainstorm, meeting at Derek’s new loft every so often to get the entire groups opinion, but nothing has come out of it. Well, besides spending extra time with the Alpha. That’s an aspect Y/N didn’t mind in the slightest.

She had no issues making herself at home in his loft, despite his halfhearted protests. No one could understand how Y/N had the ability to just throw her feet up on his coffee table and not get her throat ripped out. It’s either she has no regard for her life, or Derek has a soft spot for her which is something no one saw coming.

The two have always had an interesting relationship. Y/N enjoys arguing, similar to Stiles hence why they get along so well. She loves getting under Derek’s skin and pushing every button she knows he has. It’s almost as if she goes out of her way to try and get a reaction out of him. No one blames her really, it gets entertaining hearing them go at it. Especially for Stiles.

Whenever anyone needs to ask Derek for a favor, the first person they send his way is Y/N. For one, they’ve only ever heard the word “yes” come out of his mouth when talking to her, and she’s the most likely one not to flinch if she has to kill him. She has a conscious, it’s just not always active.

Y/N rides up to Beacon Hills High on her motorcycle before parking in the thin spot near the bike rack. She carefully takes off her helmet, smoothing down any stray pieces of hair that might’ve fallen out of place. She had been told to go to Derek’s the night before to ask him if he’s found anything out about their new lethal friend, the only issue is when she got there, she could hear her new teacher Jennifer Blake in the apartment with him. She felt the urge to completely kick the door down and interrupt whatever conversation was happening, but she practiced a high level of self-restraint. She knew Derek was aware of her being there. He could smell her the same way she could him. But the hot white rage that filled Y/N’s chest forced her to walk away and ride angrily back to Stiles’s place.

Scott and Stiles watch their friend from the steps at the entrance to the school. Her ever present frown is a little troubling as it is much more prominent than usual. They didn’t get the full details about what angered her so much the night before, but it’s clearly still bothering her. She takes the keys out of her bike before stomping up to them. When she notices them staring at her, she lifts an eyebrow, “Something you wanna say?” She challenges. Both boys look at each other and simultaneously shoot her a fake smile.

“You– you look nice today,” Stiles comments awkwardly as he rubs the back of his neck. “Did you uh– did you do something new with your hair?”

Y/N stared at him blankly while Scott mentally facepalms at his friends attempt at covering up their concern. She simply shakes her head, looping her arms through both of theirs. “I’m fine if that’s what you guys are wondering. Derek was busy last night so I just came back to the house. That’s it,” she explains shortly, leaving no room for questions.

Scott scrunches his nose and a look of realization dawns on his face. It quickly morphs into disgust the more he thinks about it and Stiles furrows his eyebrows curiously. He looks over Y/N’s head and waits for his other best friend to clue him in on what’s got him all bothered. Scott makes sure Y/N’s more focused on weaving through the crowd before mouthing “She’s jealous” over to Stiles.

“I’m gonna grab my notebook real quick,” she tells them. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as she reaches her locker, Stiles leans over to attempt a discreet conversation with Scott. “What do you mean she’s jealous?” He asks in a whisper. “Jealous of what?”

“I don’t know,” Scott answers, watching Y/N carefully. “But I’m assuming it had something to do with what happened at Derek’s last night.”

“Why would she be jealous over something with Derek?” Stiles scoffs, his eyebrows furrowed.

Scott shoots him a pointed look. Stiles is an absolute genius when it comes to certain topics, but girls and social cues are not one of them. His jaw drops slightly when he realizes what Scott’s implying. He rapidly shakes his head, flailing his arms in the air. “No– no, uh-uh. There’s no way. Absolutely not.”

“It’s not like you can stop it,” Scott chuckles. “If she likes him, she likes him.”

“Oh God,” Stiles groans disgustedly. “Out of all people? Sourwolf? Really?”

Scott shrugs with an amused smile as Y/N turns to start walking back, “The heart wants what the heart wants.”

“Okay, but does it have to want him?” Stiles continues to complain. “And if she’s jealous that means there was someone else there last night. Who? Because last I checked, Derek is a very acquired taste.”

“How would I know?” Scott replies. “Now shut up before she realizes we’re talking about her.”

The three of them made a pact awhile back that they wouldn’t eavesdrop on each other’s private conversations unless they were in danger. So they knew it would be safe to have said discussion despite Y/N’s enhanced hearing.

“You guys ready?” She asks.

Both nod vigorously, trying to hide their gossip, but their desperation to seem normal gives them away. Y/N simply rolls her eyes and says nothing. She once again links their arms together as they head towards their English class. No one needs werewolf senses to see how tense and angry Y/N got at the sight of Ms. Blake. The fury behind her eyes is one everyone in the pack has had to face at one point or another. Scott vividly remembers those eyes when Issac stole the last piece of her banana bread from when they went to the bakery they all love, and she threw him clear across his house.

Y/N separates herself from the boys, taking her spot next to Alison and Lydia while the boys sit down behind them. It’s a miracle how they all ended up in the same class. Y/N opens up her notebook, choosing to doodle rather than pay attention to whatever Ms. Blake is writing on the whit board in front of them. Alison looks at Y/N’s drawing with curiosity and smiles, “That’s really good,” she compliments.

It’s her beginning sketch to one of her favorite book characters, Sirius Black from Harry Potter. Y/N tries to muster a genuine grin, “Thanks,” she replies.

Alison isn’t clueless though. She can feel the difference in Y/N’s attitude from how she acts on a regular basis. She squints her eyes trying to silently figure it out before turning back to Scott who already knows what she’s wondering. What all of them were wondering. Who got Y/N so riled up? They know she’s jealous of something that happened with Derek, but who could she be jealous of?

“Alright, good morning everyone!” Jennifer greets with a smile that makes Y/N’s blood boil. She brings a hand up to play with her helix piercing to prevent her claws which will no doubt make an appearance by the end of this class. “Today, we're going to delve deeper into Shakespeare's Othello. I want you to focus on the themes of jealousy and manipulation that are littered throughout the text.”

Y/N’s eyes narrow on her teacher. The word “jealousy” feeling like a direct hit on their current situation. She cracks her neck before flipping to the page in their text book. She slouches in her chair, leg bouncing up and down. She quickly begins to run out of patience hearing the teachers heels click every time she takes a step.

“Y/N,” Jennifer calls out. “Why don’t you go ahead and start us off by reading the first paragraph?”

The grip Y/N has on her pencil tightens. There it is. Scott can not only smell it, but he can see it with his own eyes. The tension is more than palpable. Jennifer was the one at Derek’s last night. Y/N tilts her head, “Why can’t someone else do it?” She deflects coldly. “Lydia for example is quite the fan of our troubled poet.”

The challenge in her voice makes Jennifer hold back her own glare. She should’ve known Y/N would be the student to give her trouble from the beginning. The class shifts uncomfortably from the sudden chill in the air. “Y/N, it’s important for everyone to participate. Please, read the passage,” she requests with forced patience.

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that,” the (h/c) haired girl answers, folding her hands together as she leans on the desk. “I have crippling anxiety when it comes to reading in front of people. You wouldn’t want to do something to cause a breakdown would you?” She asks in the most taunting voice possible.

Lydia and Alison both stare at their friend with confusion. Stiles has to sink low in his chair to hide the inevitable laughter that’s about to come out of his mouth. While Scott just covers his face with his hands, waiting for World War Y/N to take place in his English class.

Jennifer quirks an eyebrow, “Did you not just do the school play of Beauty and the Beast last month? Where you played Belle? The lead role?”

Silence.

“That’s different, Ms. Blake,” Y/N corrects. “Not that I’d expect you to understand, but playing a character and who I am in real life is completely separate.”

“Well, that’s perfect then,” she nods. “Why don’t you go ahead and read it in character for us?”

A strong scent of copper fills Scott’s nose. He glances down and sees Y/N’s claws dug deep into her thigh. Stiles notices Scott’s wide eyes and glances where he’s looking. When he sees the wide open wound his face turns pale white before he shuffles in his chair.

“What a fantastic idea,” Y/N quips sarcastically before glancing down at the page below her. As she begins to read, the passive aggressiveness in her tone is evident. “O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on."

Her eyes lock with Jennifer's, and she can't help but add, under her breath but loud enough for her friends to pick up on, "How fitting"

Jennifer's expression hardens, but she maintains her composure. She leans on her desk while looking Y/N in the eye, “I would like a word with you after class Miss L/N,” she says coolly before continuing on with her lesson.

The glare on Y/N’s face never fades. She burns holes into the back of Jennifer’s head. Scott grew increasingly more worried that her eyes would flash, giving away her secret for all to see. All four of her friends exchange worried glances. Y/N’s never really been one to get in trouble on her own accord. She’s gotten detention, but ninety percent of the times it’s because Scott and Stiles roped her into it. The boys take it upon themselves to text Lydia and Alison, informing them of their theory of what is causing Y/N’s sudden aggression.

Lydia purses her lips together as she reads the texts. She leans back to whisper to Stiles, “This should be interesting…”

The rest of the class drags on, time ticking fairly slow. Y/N doesn’t say much, but the nasty looks she shoots cut more deeply than any words ever could. Halfway through the period, Stiles places his hand on her back to help keep her calm, which she wouldn’t admit, helped a lot. When the bell finally rings, the students begin to file out. Y/N stays behind, her anger barely contained. Scott, Stiles, Alison, and Lydia linger outside the door, trying to listen in on the upcoming confrontation.

Y/N rolls her eyes as she slings her bag over her shoulder. She approaches Jennifer’s desk with a sickly sweet smile. The teacher doesn’t buy it though. “Y/N, what is going on with you today?” She questions firmly, feigning concern for the younger girl.

Y/N shakes her head, producing the most innocent face she could. “Going on with me? Nothing at all, Miss Blake. I am doing just dandy. Why do you ask?"

Jennifer bites the inside of her cheek, narrowing her eyes, but she manages to keep her tone measured. "Your behavior today has been disruptive and disrespectful. You are a talented and well-read young woman. I expected more from you."

Y/N chuckles, leaning more of her weight on her left side, popping her hip to show just how much she truly cares about this conversation. “Oh, I’m sure you do, given your high standards and all. It must be exhausting to keep up appearances,” she comments with a deceptive charm.

The older woman’s nostrils flare, knowing exactly what she’s trying to get at. Of course this is what her behavior is all about. Jennifer takes a deep breath, “Y/N, your comments today were out of line. This isn’t about keeping up appearances, it’s about maintaining respect in the classroom."

Y/N walks closer to her desk with a sly smile. She traces her finger up the wood, rubbing the dust in between her fingers. “Respect? Funny you should mention that. It seems respect is a bit... selective around here."

Jennifer's patience finally snaps, though she tries to mask it with a strained smile. “Y/N, your insinuations are inappropriate. Whatever issues you think exist, this isn't the place to air them."

Y/N barely even makes eye contact with the woman, flicking off the small dust bunny she formed with her fingers. “Of course,” she agrees mildly. “From now on, I’ll make sure to be more… discreet.”

Her teacher’s eyes flash with irritation, “You know what? Your behavior today has been unacceptable. Detention. After school. I expect to see you here as soon as the bell rings.”

Y/N opens her mouth to argue, but the look in Jennifer's eyes stops her. She storms out of the classroom, her friends quickly falling into step beside her. Stiles trips over his own footing as he tries to grab Y/N’s wrist, “Would you just– Jesus– Y/N. Slow down!” He exclaims, finally catching her. He grabs onto her, holding the girl in place.

Y/N raises her eyebrows, “What?” She bites out. “I have to get to Calc.”

“Care to explain what the hell is going on with you?” Lydia tries to coax the information out of her. She knows it’s never good for Y/N out of all people to keep things bottled.

“Nothing’s going on with me,” she denies. “I’m fine. Are we done here?” She scoffs, spinning on her heel to walk away.

Scott runs in front of her, “Y/N, we just want to help,” he insists softly.

“I don’t need your help!” She snaps. The wounded expression on his puppy dog face makes Y/N groan at her actions. She runs a hand over her face, “Look Scotty, I appreciate it. I appreciate all of you, really, I do. It means a lot that you care so much, but this isn’t something that I feel like talking about right now. I need space and time to plot out her murder and then maybe we can have a discussion later, okay?” She says nonchalantly, kissing Scott’s cheek before walking off to her calculus class.

They all stand there stunned for a moment. Stiles watches after her, pointing at the girl and turning back to his friends, “Did she– did she just say plot her murder?”

“Yup,” Alison nods, popping the “p.”

As the school day goes on, Scott and Stiles continuously try to monitor Y/N and her behavior. Something about her unhinged jealousy is putting everyone on edge. Luckily, the advanced classes they don’t have with her, Lydia does. So whenever they can’t be together, they assign someone else to watch over her.

When Lydia reports back, they’re all slightly shocked to hear that she was absolutely fine in all of her other classes. Which only affirms their theory that Ms. Blake was in Derek’s apartment last night, and that’s why Y/N acted the way that she did.

When the final bell of the day rings, Y/N growls under her breath, knowing she has to spend the next hour or so with Jennifer Blake in an enclosed space. She marches down the hallway, mumbling profanities under her breath before pushing the door to her classroom open. Stiles and Scott watch from afar, the latter trying to listen in for any painful screams. But knowing Y/N, if she truly were to murder someone, it wouldn’t be loud or obvious.

Y/N furrows her eyebrows when she sees Jennifer packing up her desk. When the woman hears her door open, she glances over in her students direction. “Miss L/N, I hope you had a good and reflective rest of your day,” she comments, clearly not interested in Y/N’s day whatsoever.

Y/N doesn’t bother responding. She simply stares at her straight faced with her arms crossed. Her patience is dwindling the longer they stand there. Jennifer picks up her handbag before sending Y/N the nastiest smile she could.

“Well, Mr. Harris should be here in a couple of minutes to oversee your detention, so you can wait in your seat until he arrives.”

Y/N’s eyes narrow, “And why exactly am I waiting for Mr. Harris? Weren’t you the one to give me a detention?”

Her teacher smirks, “Yes, yes I was,” she answers with a shrug.

“Then wouldn’t it be your responsibility to oversee it? You can’t just hand out detentions and not stick around for it,” Y/N scoffs.

“Normally, I wouldn’t be leaving like this. I would happily spend the next hour of my life lecturing you on proper classroom etiquette, but I have certain plans tonight that I’ve been looking forward to. So Mr. Harris has agreed to take you off my hands,” she explains.

Y/N can smell her smugness. Only if she demonstrated this side of herself in front of the class. Y/N clenches her hand tightly, feeling her claws emerging from her actual nails. Anger rushes through her, but she pushes it back with a curt nod. “How interesting. Do you mind me asking who these plans happen to be with?”

Jennifer cockily leans forward, whispering in Y/N’s ear, “You know exactly who they’re with.” Then she pulls away from the young girl, walking out of the classroom without a second glance.

The werewolf’s eyes flash a bright yellow as she watches Jennifer stalk off. She squeezes them shut, trying to avoid any kind of outburst. Her frustration grows by the second, her heart beating abnormally fast as she hears Jennifer getting in her car to no doubt drive to Derek’s loft. A red hot fire fills her soul as she makes a decision that will no doubt have consequences later. But she would rather serve a two hour detention with Harris than watch Derek be with that woman.

Y/N storms out of the classroom, running down the hallway. She ditches her detention, figuring she could come up with an emotional enough lie to relieve the punishment afterwards. Her backpack bounces up and down, smacking into her tailbone as she runs. Her feet pump as fast as they possibly can as she runs through the greenery of the woods. She doesn’t have to pay attention to where she is because her body already knows where it’s going. Almost as if she’s called to be there, her inner wolf begging to move faster.

When she finally slows down, she’s directly in front of the door to Derek’s loft. Her chest rises and falls with her shallow breaths as she simply stares at the door. She didn’t see or hear Jennifer’s car, so that means their’s still time. She licks her lips out of nervousness before hesitantly bringing her hand up to the door, knocking on it softly.

She waits anxiously, wiping her now sweaty hands on her jeans. Y/N’s not used to feeling like this ever. She doesn’t get nervous. Most of the time, she’s the most confident person anyone could meet. Hence why she was friends with Lydia before she even knew Stiles existed. When she goes over to Derek’s, she never usually feels like this. Like her heart might just beat out of her chest if she doesn’t see him. She fights off the small whimper threatening to escape her throat. She doesn’t need to be nervous and embarrassed when he answers the door.

Y/N rocks back and forth on her feet, growing more weary as time passes. Silence fills the air around her and she suddenly feels the urge to throw up when she hears footsteps growing closer. She silently prays he can’t smell how absolutely out of sorts she is. Her inner monologue to give herself a confidence boost doesn’t do much when she sees his shadow at the bottom crack of the door. When the door swings open, it reveals a very dressed up Derek Hale. His face turns into one of confusion when he sees her standing in front of him.

“Y/N,” he greets, completely shocked by her presence. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh– I– um,” she stumbles over her words which causes Derek to look at her with curiosity. She’s not the type to be at a loss for something to say. That’s one of the things he admires about her. She sucks in a deep breath, “I just needed to see you,” she answers.

Derek steps aside slightly, allowing her into his apartment. When she walks in she can’t help but feel safe. This loft has almost turned into her home away from home. She’s here more often than anyone else out of the pack, and Issac lives here. It isn’t until now that Derek can smell the mix of emotions radiating off of her. It’s a concoction of things and he can’t tell which is the primary source of her unannounced appearance.

“What’s this about?” He asks her with a lifted brow.

Y/N sighs, trying to blink back the intermittent flashing of her eyes. “I know someone was here last night,” she reveals. “I came by and heard her. Then I find out today that you two apparently have plans,” she continues getting progressively more irritated. “Which didn’t make sense to me because I thought you were smarter than that.”

Derek crosses his arms, his own anger rising at her tone. He’s used to her empty sarcasm and insults, but this time it’s fueled by actual emotion which sets him equally on edge. “It’s none of your business who I have plans with, Y/N,” he says shortly.

Y/N laughs humorlessly, “None of my business? It is absolutely my business if the person you have these plans with is a complete stranger!” She exclaims loudly. “We don’t know her Derek. She could be the person behind all these killings and kidnappings and we wouldn’t be any the wiser!”

“Your teacher?” He challenges. “Responsible for everything that’s going on?” He chuckles at the obscurity. “Right. I’m sure that’s it,” he shakes his head at the accusation. “Isn’t the whole point of making plans to get to know someone? So wouldn’t it be nice if I did go out with her?”

“She’s manipulating you,” Y/N insists. “And you’re obviously too blind to even see it.”

“Why do you care so much?” Derek asks, his voice elevating as well.

“Because–” She waves her hands around exasperatedly, trying to find the words. “You’re not exactly known for your taste in women!” She all but scolds. “Remember Kate? The lady that up and killed your entire family. Well, I remember her so forgive me for trying to keep your stupid werewolf ass alive!”

Derek goes to retaliate but that’s when he hears it. Her heart rate speeds up. She’s lying to him. That’s not why she really cares. He can clearly see her anger and smell the annoyance radiating off of her, along with a couple of other things. But there’s a sweet smell accompanying it. One that Derek finds rather endearing. Jealousy. Y/N L/N is jealous. He wouldn’t have picked up on it if she hadn’t just blatantly lied. Suddenly her bursting in and berating him makes sense. He smirks when he notices her clenched fists. It’s about time she’s felt the green-eyed monster that constantly visits him when he sees her with other guys. When she’s laughing boisterously about something Scott said, whenever she comes over to see him but ends up talking to Isaac for hours on end. Especially when he found out she kissed Stiles last year after he was kidnapped by Gerard. It truly has been a miracle that no one ever sensed his jealousy when it came to her.

Derek takes a step forward, closing the distance between them. “Why did you really come here, Y/N?” He asks lowly, trying to get her to admit her feelings. “Tell me what you’re really trying to say…”

Y/N feels her face flush as he gets closer. She doesn’t want him to know the real reason why she raced across town to be here. The walls begin to close in around her, so she lashes out in a last ditch effort to protect herself.

“I’m trying to look out for you! You’re stubborn, Derek,” she chastises. “You don’t listen to anything anyone tells you. You like to pretend you’re always ready and prepared for anything, but you’re not! You are just as emotional and vulnerable as everyone else despite being hurt as many times as you have! You’re reckless when it comes to women, so I’m simply trying to make sure you don’t hurt yourself or the pack by making a stupid mistake.”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t back down. In fact, he gets closer to her in attempts to pressure it out of her. “You’re avoiding my question, Y/N,” he says darkly. “What’s really going on?”

Feeling cornered, Y/N tries to take in a couple of deep breaths but it fails miserably. She can’t tell him. Not now. Not when he’s interested in another women who’s already on her way here. He even got dressed up for her. She’s never seen Derek in a white button up polo and slacks. It makes her frown thinking that it’s not for her. She scoffs softly before shaking her head, “Forget it,” she mumbles. The h/c haired girl pushes past him, shoulder checking him on her way to the door. “I shouldn’t have come here. Have fun on your date or whatever you wanna call it.”

She slams the door behind her before stomping down the flight of stairs that leads up to his building. When she walks outside, the sky opens up, almost mimicking her inner turmoil with its own storm. Rain pours down on her, soaking her clothing completely as she gets ready to run home, or in all truth, to Stiles house. All she knows is that she can’t be here anymore.

“Y/N, wait!” Derek calls out.

She doesn’t bother turning around, heading the exact way she came. She should’ve figured that he would’ve caught up to her with ease. He’s never had a problem showing her who’s in charge. He grabs her wrist gently but firmly, not allowing her to leave.

“Stop running away,” he commands. “Just tell me the truth.”

Y/N’s eyes once again begin flashing yellow, differing completely from her regular piercing e/c gaze. “Let go of me, Derek,” she demands with a bit of a growl in her voice.

“Not until you stop being so damn hardheaded!” He yells, trying to make his voice heard over the pounding rain. “Tell me!”

“Why do you even care?!” Y/N screams back. “Why does it matter when you’re already here waiting for another woman?”

Derek’s eyes soften slightly, and he pulls Y/N closer to him by her wrist. Her breath hitches in her throat as her hand practically rests on his muscular chest. His lips are so impossibly close that any coherent thought she had before this moment have been completely erased from her long and short term memory.

“Because I need to hear you say it,” his voice got impossibly low, sending a chill through her body that has nothing to do with the cold water hitting her back.

Y/N’s lips part slightly as his thumb comes up to brush the side of her cheek. Her body is drawn to him. The wolf inside of her is trying to claw its way out and into his arms, but she manages to steady herself. “Fine,” she breathes out, not being able to force herself to look away. “I’m jealous, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? That it made me want to commit first-degree murder last night when I heard her voice in your apartment, knowing that it would’ve been me in there if I had shown up just a tad bit earlier? So yes, Derek, I am jealous. You win.”

Derek’s eyes darken at the breathiness of her voice. He places the hand that was holding her wrist on her waist to keep her pressed securely against his front. Both of their hearts beat in unison, “Why didn’t you just say that when I asked the first time?”

Y/N’s defense starts to crumble beneath her, “Because I didn’t want you to think I was weak for succumbing to something stupid like that,” she admits.

Derek laughs, showing off his pearly white teeth, “I would’ve never thought you were weak.” He reassures when he notices the small frown etched on her face. “You’ve never been weak. A bit obstinate? Sure. But not weak.”

Y/N can feel the sincerity in his voice. She doesn’t protest his strong hold on her hip, but instead keeps her own hands occupied on his now soaked through white shirt. It’s not a bad view from where she’s standing. “I don’t think I can do this,” she whispers.

Derek’s eyebrows furrow, a pang of concern filling his heart. “Do what?”

“Keep pretending that I don’t care about you,” she says softly, her chest heaving up and down from how intense the moment they are sharing is.

Derek’s eyes flash their bright alpha red as a primal instinct clouds his brain. He leans close to her face, his stubble rubbing her cheek in just the right way. “Then don’t,” he says huskily.

Before she can respond, he leans in and kisses her, the rain pouring down around them. The kiss is intense, filled with all the emotions they’ve both been keeping at bay. It’s a collision of desire and frustration, their lips moving against each other with a desperate want. A primal need inside both of them. Y/N wraps her hands around his neck, tugging at the short strands of his black hair. Derek wastes no time placing both of his hands on her waist, squeezing the soft flesh. She giggles slightly from the sensation, making him smile. When they finally pull apart, they’re both breathless.

Y/N steps back, her heart racing, but Derek keeps his arm around her, protectively. “How come you ran away?” He asks quietly.

Y/N huffs, running a hand through her wet hair. She sighs loudly before admitting the truth, “I was scared.”

“Of what?” He questions, not believing the woman in front of him would be scared of anything.

“Of this,” she states obviously, gesturing in between them. “Of how much I feel for you. I’m not really big on emotions like this. I don’t know how to handle it. So I was scared of having to open up my heart when I wasn’t sure if you’d actually take care of it.”

The vulnerability in her answer snaps something in Derek’s mind. She has the same issues as he does. He hasn’t been able to truly give himself to anyone since Paige. He felt so strongly for her and then she was gone in an instant. And when he tried again with someone he didn’t even fully trust, he got burned again. Emotions besides anger have never been his forte. So when he hears Y/N admitting the same thing, it makes him realize that this is something they both can improve on.

He grins, kissing her forehead softly, “You don’t have to be scared. We can figure it all out together, okay? Both of us.”

At that moment, a car pulls up, and Derek pulls Y/N even tighter into his chest. The bright headlights blind them and they both try to shield their eyes in order to identify the owner of the vehicle. Y/N’s body tenses as Jennifer steps out, the woman’s expression shifting from surprise to anger as she sees them.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” she comments coldly. Her eyes zero in on Y/N who has a rather tight grip on Derek’s shirt, “Miss L/N, shouldn’t you be at school serving the detention you earned today for your behavior in my class?”

“I had better things to do,” Y/N bites back. “As you can see,” she says, pointing at Derek’s chiseled form.

A shit-eating grin forms on Derek’s lips at her words. They both swear they see Jennifer’s eye twitch from the insinuation Y/N just made. He doesn’t bother trying to cover up what just happened and keeps his hands firmly on Y/N’s hips.

“Yes, I can see that,” Jennifer narrows her eyes at their proximity.

Derek can feel the situation getting ready to escalate so he keeps Y/N safeguarded within his hold. He nods over to Jennifer’s car, “I think it would be best if you left,” he states unforgivingly making Y/N smile.

Jennifer sends them both a pointed look, “I think so too,” she agrees before spinning on her heel and walking back towards her car. “We’ll see just how well this works out for the two of you. Let’s hope you don’t regret it.”

She closes the drivers side door before speeding off out of the parking lot. Both Derek and Y/N are left standing in the rain, now knowing that things have just become a lot more complicated than they were before. But even in the midst of her subtle threat and imminent danger, the two of them don’t seem worried in the slightest.

Because they’ll handle that together too.

No Place Like Home

Derek Morgan x reader

TW: Mentions of sexual assault on reader, murder, blood, violence, regular criminal minds stuff, angst with a happy ending, this gets very dark at some points so please read at your own discretion, I think that’s it. Lmk if I missed anything.

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Baraboo Wisconsin.

Y/N L/N’s hometown. The one she left the second she turned sixteen and never looked back. Baraboo is a quaint little place, beautiful views and fun places to go if someone knows where to look. It’s a tight-knit community that’s for sure. Where everyone knows everyone and whatever secrets someone has also belong to the rest of the town. It can be endearing at times but also make an individual feel claustrophobic.

She never planned on coming back here. She graduated college at fourteen and worked her ass off to save enough money to leave by the time her sixteenth birthday rolled around. In fact, that was her birthday present to herself. To get the hell out of there.

Y/N’s father died when she was six years old. He was a hero, a firefighter. He died saving a family of six from a burning house. He was the only one who didn’t make it out alive that day. He managed to get every person out with minimal injuries. Just couldn’t seem to save himself.

After he died, Y/N’s mother, Lisa L/N, was a mess. Completely ignored her daughter after her husband’s, started drinking. Y/N practically raised herself. Until her step father came into the picture. Adrian Cole. The name itself gives her sickly chills just thinking about it.

Y/N continued her studies after getting her first bachelors degree at fourteen. She ended up with a doctorate and three masters under her belt by the time she turned eighteen. The girl is what most specialists would consider a “high potential intellectual.” She has advanced cognitive abilities that contain superior pattern recognition, enhanced situational awareness, an eidetic memory, advanced deception detection, superior deductive reasoning, mental simulation/scenario building, and advanced problem solving.

She’s rather valuable to say the least.

Y/N has had the world at her fingertips since she was born. She’s smart, cunning, calculated. She knows exactly how to get what she wants. Unfortunately, she doesn’t screw up from time to time.

Hence why she got arrested for petty theft when she was eighteen.

She had been working odd jobs for her entire life. Bouncing around from city to city, trying to find a place she could make her home. She somehow ended up in Quantico Virginia, a random bus stop on a long list of places she could go. But it had been a couple months since being there, and one week she didn’t make enough to get herself some basic grocery supplies, so she thought it wouldn’t be the most terrible thing to snag a loaf of bread on the way out of one of the many grocery stores in the city. She didn’t think they’d truly care about one loaf.

Clearly, she was wrong. They apparently needed that bread way more than she did.

And that’s how she ended up the in police station. It wasn’t the most pleasant experience at first. Most of the officers just thought she was some punk kid who got a kick out of stealing. She didn’t even bother trying to explain why she did what she did because they wouldn’t believe her in the first place. And it’s not like they could put her in the system, she was eighteen.

However, as they were processing her, she noticed some of the detectives talking about a murder investigation. They had a man who was found dead in his living room, and the prime suspect was the wife who mysteriously disappeared after it happened.

The thing about having advanced cognitive abilities, is that it’s easy to get stuck inside the many wrinkles of the brain. She also has a compulsive need to correct everything she sees is wrong, and that is why she interrupted their conversation by yelling across the station that the wife is actually a second victim, not the perpetrator.

Of course, most of the detectives thought she was full of crap and didn’t have any idea what she was talking about. The commander however, seemed to have a different opinion. She asked Y/N what made her think that the wife could be a victim in the case.

That led to her explaining that the photos in the crime scene board indicate that there was a third part, and that’s who killed the husband and kidnapped the wife. She pointed out how there were microfibers on the legs of the chair in the photo and that shows how someone had been tied to it with duct tape. And it clearly couldn’t have been the husband with the way there was no ligature marks or redness on his skin.

Needless to say, they found the wife and the person who killed the husband. Turns out it was his best friend who was having an affair with their son’s school teacher. The husband knew to much and threatened to tell his best friend’s wife which led to his demise. Who would’ve thought?

After that case, the commander offered her a position as a consultant on their cases. It gave Y/N the first feeling of stability she’s had in a very long time. She was even able to save enough to buy herself an apartment in the area, and put herself through the FBI academy. Her coworkers at the station were sad when they found out she had been recruited to one of the most elite units in the agency, but they knew her potential was to great to be stuck at the precinct for the rest of her life.

That’s why she’s currently back in Baraboo, the ripe age of twenty-five, with the rest of the Behavioral Analysis Unit team. The leader, Aaron Hotchner, and the rest of the group: David Rossi, Jennifer Jareau, Emily Prentiss, Doctor Spencer Reid, and the one and only… Derek Morgan.

From the moment Y/N met Derek, they clicked. They both have very similar traits but differ in the most important ways. They somehow manage to understand each other on a level that the rest of the team can’t comprehend. The two of them share flirty and playful banter constantly. Everyone in the office thought Penelope and Derek were bad, at least until Y/N sauntered in. She distinctly remember Spencer having to leave the room, his face flushed red after hearing a conversation between Derek and Y/N.

The two always brushed it off as a joke, or something they do to cope with the darkness of the job, but there’s always been a little something more lying underneath it. Neither of them have been able to acknowledge it out loud, but it’s not hard to see.

“How does it feel to be home, Princess?” Derek asks with his signature golden smile, full intention of getting a flirty reaction from her. He cracks his back as the rest of the team gets off the jet, getting ready to split up and head to the station or to the most recent crime scene.

Y/N keeps her eyes trained in the distance, her face cold, hard almost. “This hasn’t been my home for the past nineteen years,” she replies stoically before walking off to join Hotch and Rossi by one of the SUV’s.

Derek is taken aback by her demeanor. She’s never been one to turn down an opportunity to flirt or be witty, especially with him. Y/N has always been a bit closed off, but in the same way Derek is. She doesn’t tell anyone about her past, and she’s never asked him about his. It’s one of the many things he loves about her. She didn’t push when she knew not to. In fact, the most they knew about where the other came from was home towns. Now he did share some about his family because they’re important to him, and so is Y/N, but he never delved too deep. That is until about last year when he was arrested for murdering three boys back home.

Y/N was the only one who tried to help without digging to deep into the things Derek didn’t want found. It killed her a little bit to see how Derek broke down when confronting the real perpetrator, Carl Buford, who also molested Derek as a child. That particularly made it a rough case for her, for more than one reason.

“Reid, JJ,” Hotch calls out to the two. “I want you guys to head to the station with Rossi, see if you can nail down a geographical profile.” The trio nods before heading over to their own SUV. “Prentiss, you come with me to talk to the most recent victims family. Morgan, L/N, head to the crime scene. Sheriff Mills will meet you both there to discuss the rest of the details.”

Y/N nods silently before turning back to Derek. She gestures towards the third black car waiting for them, walking past him and over towards the driver’s seat. Derek grabs her wrist gently as she tries to open the door, “Babygirl, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Following orders,” Y/N answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Uh-uh,” Derek shakes his head. “Get your cute little ass in that passenger seat right now.” He demands.

“Derek, we don’t have time to argue over who’s gonna drive the damn car,” Y/N snaps, completely out of character. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

His eyebrows shoot up into his nonexistent hairline, “Whoa,” he puts his hands up. “I didn’t mean to upset you, sweetheart. I just like driving you around, that’s all. I thought it was like a little silent agreement we had. You being my passenger princess.”

Y/N’s face softens, but he can still see the anger behind her eyes. There’s definitely something wrong. She’s never been like this without a reason. A small sigh escapes her pink lips, “Okay…” she mumbles, very cutely in Derek’s opinion. “You can drive.”

Without another peep, Y/N climbs into her designated spot besides Derek. He casts her an unsure glance, wondering if maybe she’ll open up to him on the way to the scene, but unfortunately the entire ride was quiet. Apart from the playlist playing in the background. They both had created it for when they were partnered together on a case.

They pull up to the scene, no words uttered between them. Y/N stares out the window, sucking in a deep breath. Her knuckles are a pale white as she clutches onto the door handle. He wants to ask her what’s going through her mind, but knows better than to push when she’s like this.

She steps out of the vehicle, the gravel crunching beneath her feet, Derek following closely behind. As soon as they near the crime scene, she spots Sheriff Mills standing by the perimeter tape, arms crossed but eyes bright when he recognizes her.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Y/N L/N!” Mills calls out with a smile, his voice booming across the lot. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. How long’s it been?”

Y/N offers a small, genuine smile, feeling a rare sense of warmth. “Hey, Sheriff. It’s been a while. Nine years, I think.”

“Nine years,” he repeats with a shake of his head. “You disappeared on us, huh? Look at you now.” He glances over at Derek, curiosity sparking in his eyes.

Y/N glances between the two men. “This is Derek Morgan, one of the best profilers at the BAU.”

Derek steps forward and extends his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“Likewise,” Mills replies, shaking Derek’s hand firmly before turning back to Y/N. “You always had it in you to do something big.”

Derek watches the brief exchange with interest, noting how Y/N seems more at ease around the sheriff. There was history here, but also a quiet sense of trust. The sheriff gave Y/N a comforting nod before stepping back to let them work.

They cross under the yellow tape and into the scene, where the victim’s body lay partially covered. Derek’s voice is low but steady. “What are we looking at?”

Y/N knelt beside the body, her jaw tightening as she takes in the brutal injuries. “Ligature marks on the wrists and ankles…looks like she was tied up, maybe tortured before…” She let her words trail off, her eyes lingering on the deep gash across the victim’s neck. “The unsub wanted control, dominance. But there’s rage here too.”

Derek nods, crouching down next to her. “The way he escalates...it’s personal. There’s something he’s trying to prove with each kill. Could be revenge or a power trip.”

Y/N swallows hard, her breath hitching for a moment as she takes in the scene. She stands, brushing her hands on her pants as if trying to rid herself of the heaviness in the air.

Derek stands too, noticing the slight shift in her demeanor. He narrows his eyes, stepping closer to her. “You alright?”

Y/N hesitates, casting a glance back at the body. The familiarity of it all—the victim, her face—was a knife in her chest, twisting cruelly.

“I knew her,” Y/N finally admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “Her name’s Claire. We…we went to high school together.”

Derek’s brows furrow, concern flashing across his face. “You didn’t mention that at the briefing.”

She shrugs her shoulders, jaw clenching. “I didn’t think it would be relevant. I haven’t spoken to her in years.” Y/N turns away, looking out into the distance as if trying to find something to balance herself, her mind.

Derek’s hand gently rests on her shoulder, his touch grounding her in a way she wasn’t expecting. “If this is too much, you don’t have to–”

“I’m fine,” she snaps, though the sharpness in her tone is more for herself than him. She looks at Derek, the vulnerability showing through her usual hard exterior. “I just didn’t expect this.”

Derek softens. “You don’t have to be fine, Y/N. Not here, not with me.”

For a moment, their eyes locked, a silent understanding passing between them. But Y/N quickly broke away, determined to stay focused. “Let’s just…get back to work. We have to find this guy.”

They both turned back to the crime scene, their focus shifting back to the task at hand. But the air between them was heavier now, weighed down by the past that had resurfaced with a vengeance.

“Whoever did this,” Derek says quietly, “they knew how to get close. Claire trusted them.”

Y/N nods, her jaw clenched tightly. “He’s not a stranger to any of these women. He’s someone who knows how to blend in. And he’s getting more comfortable.”

Derek meets her eyes, a silent understanding passing between them. They have to catch this unsub before anyone else suffers the same fate. But now, more than ever, Y/N had a personal stake in it. And Derek was going to make sure that, whatever happened, he’d be there for her.

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The police station is humming with quiet intensity, the kind of buzz that always fills the air when the team is piecing together fragments of a case. They’ve been working nonstop, and the weight of the victims is hanging over all of them. Every detail matters now, every tiny revelation could lead them closer to the truth.

Hotch stands at the head of the room, looking over the maps, notes, and pictures strewn across the table. JJ, Reid, and Rossi are gathered around, quietly talking through the geographical profile they’ve been working on. Emily leans against the wall, flipping through her notes from the victimology interviews. Derek and Y/N, just back from the most recent crime scene, stand a bit apart, their body language tense but focused.

Hotch looks up from the map, his expression sharp and business-like. “What did you find at the crime scene?”

Derek steps forward, his eyes catching Y/N’s briefly before he speaks. “The victim was restrained before she was killed. Ligature marks on her wrists and ankles. She was tortured—cut up pretty bad across her torso. He took his time with her. Cause of death was strangulation, but the wounds came first.”

Reid frowns, looking over at the crime scene photos pinned to the board. “That suggests control. He didn’t just want to kill her, he wanted to inflict pain, assert dominance.”

Rossi nods in agreement, his tone grim. “He’s trying to break them down before killing them. Likely projecting some internal conflict, something personal.”

Y/N stands a little off to the side, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She hasn’t said much since they got back, but Derek knows that look. She’s running the details over and over in her mind, trying to process everything.

Derek glances at her again before continuing. “He’s gotta be in his late 40s or 50s. Strong enough to overpower, but methodical enough to take his time with them.”

Emily pushes off the wall and approaches the table. “We’ve seen it before. Someone with deep insecurities who compensates by dominating their victims. There’s probably a sexual element involved, even if it’s not immediately obvious.”

Hotch is quiet for a moment, taking in all the information. Then he asks, “Was there anything else? Anything personal about her?”

There’s a pause. Derek hesitates, his eyes flicking over to Y/N again. He’s been waiting for her to say something, but she’s been holding back. She looks tense, almost like she’s somewhere else entirely.

Y/N clears her throat, feeling the weight of Hotch’s attention on her. “The victim... her name was Claire.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow. “And?”

Y/N shifts slightly, her voice a little quieter. “I knew her. We went to the same high school.”

That draws everyone’s attention. Reid, JJ, and Emily all look at her with surprise. Rossi’s eyes narrow in thought. Hotch’s expression shifts from curious to stern in an instant.

“You knew her?” His tone is sharp, almost accusatory.

Y/N nods, though it’s clear she’s uncomfortable. “Yeah, but... we weren’t close. I hadn’t seen her since high school. I didn’t even realize it was her until we were at the scene.”

Hotch’s jaw tightens, clearly frustrated. “And you didn’t think that was something we should’ve known?”

Before Y/N can respond, Derek steps in, his voice firm and protective. “She didn’t know until we got there, Hotch. This isn’t something she was hiding. It just hit her at the scene.”

Hotch’s gaze shifts to Derek, his expression still hard, but he doesn’t argue. There’s a beat of silence, the tension palpable in the room. Y/N looks down at the floor, her jaw clenched, clearly battling with the emotions bubbling beneath the surface.

Reid, ever the analyst, chimes in. “If Y/N knew the victim, that could mean the unsub has a connection to her past as well. It’s possible he’s targeting women from the same community.”

JJ nods thoughtfully. “If the victims are all from the same area, it might explain how he’s able to blend in so easily. He knows them, at least in passing.”

Y/N swallows hard, feeling the pressure of everyone’s eyes on her. She’s never liked being the focus of attention, especially not when it comes to something this personal. She hates how it feels like she’s under a microscope right now.

Derek steps a little closer to her, his hand brushing her arm lightly, a silent reassurance. His voice softens, just for her. “You okay, babygirl?”

She forces a tight smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m fine.”

Rossi taps the edge of the map in front of him. “If this unsub is blending in with his victims, he’s not the type to stand out. He’s attending social gatherings, getting close to them before striking. He’s comfortable in these environments.”

“That’s how he’s avoiding detection,” Emily adds. “He’s slipping under the radar, appearing harmless.”

Sheriff Mills, who’s been standing quietly in the back of the room, finally speaks up. “You think he’s been attending community events?”

Rossi nods. “It’s likely. He’s integrating himself into their lives without raising suspicion.”

The sheriff frowns, thinking for a moment. “Well, Diane Cole—one of the most prominent women in town—she hosts a weekly Sunday luncheon. Half the community shows up after church.”

Y/N’s entire body goes rigid at the mention of the name. Her breath catches in her throat, her heart pounding suddenly in her chest. The rest of the team doesn’t miss the way her expression changes, the way she seems to freeze in place.

Hotch notices it immediately, his sharp eyes narrowing. “Y/N? Why does that name mean something to you?”

Y/N tries to keep her composure, but it’s slipping. She feels exposed, vulnerable, like the walls she’s spent years building are crumbling around her. Her voice comes out strained, barely above a whisper. “Because Diane Cole is my mother.”

The room falls silent. No one says anything for a moment as they process what she just said. The different last names had kept them from connecting the dots until now, but the revelation is staggering.

Rossi’s eyes soften with understanding, but Hotch’s expression grows darker. He takes a slow breath, his frustration evident. “You didn’t think to tell us that your mother hosts one of the biggest events in town? One that our unsub no doubt plucks his victims from?”

Y/N shakes her head, her voice cracking slightly. “She and I... we haven’t spoken in years. I left home when I was sixteen, Hotch. It’s not like I’m going out of my way to connect with my mother. She’s not—” She stops herself, not wanting to open that door. “She’s not apart of my life. We’re not close.”

Hotch is clearly irritated, but before he can say anything else, Derek puts his hand on Y/N’s back, his voice low and calm, but with a protective edge. “Look, Hotch, this isn’t easy for her. She’s not keeping things from us on purpose. Let’s just focus on what we know and move forward.”

Hotch stares at Derek for a long moment, clearly weighing his words. Finally, he nods, letting the issue drop for now. “Alright. The luncheon is our best lead. Y/N, Derek, Emily—you three will come with me and we’ll see if anyone stands out. We need to be cautious. We don’t know what this guy looks like yet, but he’s dangerous.”

Y/N swallows hard, nodding along with the rest of the team. She feels Derek’s steady presence beside her, his hand on her arm again, grounding her. She meets his eyes for a brief moment, grateful for his unwavering support.

“We got this,” Derek murmurs, just for her. His voice is soft but full of confidence.

Y/N takes a deep breath, steadying herself. “Yeah. We do.”

As the team breaks off to prepare for the next steps, Y/N lingers for a moment, the weight of what’s to come settling heavily on her shoulders. She’s about to walk back into a part of her life she thought she’d left behind for good, and the thought terrifies her. But with Derek by her side, she knows she can face it. She has to.

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

The drive to Y/N’s childhood home is filled with a heavy silence. Derek occasionally glances over at her, but she stares straight ahead, her face unreadable. He knows she’s shutting down, retreating into herself as the memories she’s been trying to bury claw their way to the surface. The tension in her body has been there ever since they received word that the unsub might be attending her mother’s Sunday luncheon, and it hasn’t left her since.

As the car pulls up to the house, Y/N’s stomach knots. The familiar two-story building looms in front of them, looking almost exactly the same as it did the day she left nine years ago. The white picket fence, the flower beds her mother used to tend to religiously—everything looks frozen in time, untouched by the years she’s been gone.

Derek cuts the engine and turns to her. “You sure about this, princess?”

Y/N swallows hard, forcing a small nod. “Yeah.”

She isn’t sure. Not even close. But she’s here for the case, and that’s what matters. She can’t afford to let her emotions get in the way of the investigation, no matter how much being here is already tearing her apart.

They step out of the car, and Derek moves beside her, a steady presence as they walk up the path. Hotch and Prentiss are already ahead, scanning the area as they approach the front door. Y/N’s eyes flick around, taking in the familiar sights—the swing set that used to creak with the wind, the porch steps she used to sit on every evening, staring at the stars. All of it feels distant, like a life that belongs to someone else.

As soon as they step onto the porch, the front door swings open. Diane Cole, Y/N’s mother, stands in the doorway, her face lighting up in a wide smile. “Y/N!” she exclaims, her voice filled with warmth and hospitality as if no time has passed at all. “Oh, my goodness, it’s been so long!”

Y/N’s body tenses as her mother wraps her in a tight embrace. The scent of her perfume—familiar, suffocating—fills Y/N’s nostrils. She stands stiffly, arms at her sides, not reciprocating the hug. She can feel Derek’s eyes on her, the weight of his concern palpable, but she doesn’t move.

Diane pulls back, her hands still on Y/N’s shoulders, beaming at her. “Look at you! You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman.”

Y/N forces a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Hi, Mom.”

Diane doesn’t seem to notice her daughter’s coldness or, if she does, she ignores it. “Come in, come in!” she says, ushering them inside with a wave of her hand. “Everyone’s already here. We were just about to start lunch.”

Y/N steps inside the house, the familiar creak of the floorboards under her feet making her stomach turn. The smell of roast chicken wafts through the air, mingling with the sound of chatter coming from the dining room. It’s all so painfully familiar, like stepping back into the life she left behind.

Hotch and Prentiss follow them in, their eyes scanning the room, already analyzing the guests milling about. Derek stays close to Y/N’s side, his presence grounding her, but even that isn’t enough to quell the anxiety bubbling up inside her.

As they move into the living room, Diane can’t seem to stop talking. “It’s so wonderful to have everyone here. We do this every Sunday, you know. Just a little gathering after church. Keeps the community close.”

Y/N nods absently, her eyes flicking around the room. She’s searching for something—someone—though she’s not entirely sure who she’s looking for. The unsub is here. That much they know. But standing in this house, surrounded by people she hasn’t seen in years, feels like walking through a minefield.

Diane turns to Derek, her smile still plastered on her face. “And who’s this?”

Diane’s smile widens. “Oh, it’s so nice to meet you, Derek. Please, make yourself at home. We’ve got plenty of food, and if you need anything, just let me know.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Derek replies politely, though his attention is already back on Y/N. He can see how tense she is, the way her eyes are darting around the room, scanning faces, assessing the crowd. She’s in work mode, but there’s something deeper, something more personal eating away at her.

As they move further into the house, Diane continues to chatter, offering drinks, asking about their work, pretending as though she hasn’t been estranged from her daughter for nearly a decade. Y/N barely listens, her mind racing as she takes in every detail, every face.

As they began to split up, Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over her. She’d always preferred to keep her distance from the noise and chaos of family gatherings, and today was no different. “I’ll check the backyard,” she suggested, hoping to create some space between herself and the tension inside.

“Be careful,” Derek said quietly, watching her with concern as she slipped outside.

Once she stepped into the backyard, the sun was almost too bright, illuminating the vibrant flowers in the garden but doing nothing to warm the coldness settling in her bones. She leaned against the wooden railing of the porch, breathing deeply, attempting to ground herself.

For a moment, it was quiet. The chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves filled the air, allowing Y/N to momentarily escape the chaos inside. But just as she started to relax, the back door creaked open. She turned to see Adrian, her stepfather, stepping onto the porch. The brightness of the day dulled as he approached, his confident demeanor wrapping around her like a shroud.

“Y/N,” Adrian said, his voice dripping with feigned warmth. “It’s been a long time.”

Y/N stiffened, her pulse quickening. “What are you doing here?” she asked, trying to keep her tone steady despite the rising tide of panic.

“I came to check in on you,” he takes a silly step closer to her. “You’ve grown up so much,” he said, his eyes scanning her with a mixture of familiarity and something more invasive. “You know, your mother is worried about you. You should visit more often.”

Y/N felt a wave of discomfort wash over her. “I’m fine. I don’t need checking on,” she replied firmly, trying to keep her tone from betraying her nerves. “And I have a busy job. I don’t have time for trivial visits.”

“Really? You’re fine? Because you look like you’re about to bolt. I thought we were past this.” Adrian’s voice turned sharper, an edge of annoyance creeping in as he crossed his arms over his chest.

At that moment, Derek stepped out onto the porch, instantly sensing the tension in the air. He glanced between Y/N and Adrian, picking up on the shift in Y/N's posture—the way her shoulders were tense and how she seemed to shrink back.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Derek asked, concern lacing his voice.

Adrian turned his gaze to Derek, sizing him up as if trying to gauge his intentions. “And who might you be?” he asked, feigning curiosity but with a hint of challenge.

“I’m SSA Derek Morgan with the BAU,” Derek replied, his tone neutral but his stance protective. “We’re here to investigate.”

“Investigate?” Adrian scoffed, his eyes narrowing. “What do you need to investigate in a place like this? It’s just a house.”

“Everything in here could be important,” Derek replied evenly, maintaining eye contact. He felt the tension simmering in the air, aware that any hint of aggression could escalate quickly.

Adrian took a step closer to Y/N, invading her space. “Well, Y/N and I have a lot to discuss, don’t we? Family matters are important. So I think it would be best for you to continue your investigation inside.” There was an underlying threat in his tone, one that made Derek’s instincts flare.

Derek shifted forward, placing himself between Adrian and Y/N, his presence a solid wall. “She doesn’t seem to want to talk,” he said firmly, glancing back at Y/N, searching for reassurance in her eyes. “I think you should give her some space.”

Adrian’s demeanor shifted slightly, his confidence cracking as he tried to reassert himself. “Space? I’m her stepfather. I have every right to speak to her.”

“That doesn’t mean you have the right to make her uncomfortable,” Derek replied, his voice steady but edged with authority. He wasn’t here to play games—he needed to protect Y/N, especially if something felt off.

Adrian’s smile faded as he took another step forward, his eyes darkening. “You’re just some guy, aren’t you? An FBI agent trying to play hero. What do you know about family?”

Derek squared his shoulders, refusing to back down. “I know that family should support one another, not intimidate. And from what I can see, you’re not doing that.”

Y/N felt the tension spike, her heart racing as she sensed Adrian’s irritation boiling beneath the surface. Derek was standing his ground, but she could see the way Adrian’s demeanor shifted—his posture becoming more aggressive.

Adrian’s gaze flicked between Derek and Y/N, and she felt the weight of his scrutiny. “You don’t know her like I do. I’m trying to help her,” he said, his voice lowering as he leaned closer to Derek, trying to assert dominance.

“Help her?” Derek echoed incredulously, his tone clipped. “By pressuring her? You’re not helping anyone but yourself.”

“Watch yourself,” Adrian warned, his voice turning low and menacing. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with here.”

Derek’s jaw tightened, and he took a step closer to Adrian, matching his intensity. “And you don’t know who you’re threatening. Back off.”

Just then, Y/N felt the walls closing in around her. Adrian’s words were wrapping around her like a vice, squeezing her heart and pushing her instincts into overdrive. She could feel herself being pulled in two different directions—Derek’s protective stance grounding her but also reminding her of the past she was trying to escape.

“Y/N,” Adrian said, his tone shifting again as he turned back to her, that familiar manipulation creeping into his voice. “You don’t have to listen to him. I’m just looking out for you.”

She shook her head, the memories crashing over her like a wave. “I don’t need you to look out for me,” she said, her voice firm but low, trying to keep it steady as her hands trembled at her sides. “I’m done with that.”

Derek shot her a glance, noticing the shift in her demeanor. “Y/N, you okay?” he asked, concern thick in his voice.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, but the strain in her tone betrayed her.

Adrian smirked, the kind of smile that sent a chill down Y/N's spine. “Look how protective you are of her,” he said to Derek, his voice dripping with mockery. “Isn’t that sweet?”

“Enough,” Derek said sharply, stepping further in front of Y/N, his body a shield. “You’re crossing a line.”

Adrian’s demeanor darkened, his posture becoming more aggressive as he looked back at Derek, trying to assert his dominance. “You think you can just waltz in here and play protector?”

“Believe me man, I’m not playing,” Derek replied, his voice low and steady.

That was when Y/N felt the weight of everything pressing down on her. She couldn’t stand it. Adrian’s presence, the memories flooding back, and the way Derek was standing up for her—it was all too much. Without another word, she turned and walked briskly toward the front door, needing to escape the suffocating atmosphere.

“Y/N!” Derek called after her, but she was already moving, her heart pounding in her ears.

She rushed through the living room, her mind racing. She felt a wave of anxiety surge as she stepped outside, the sunlight hitting her face, but it felt distant, almost cold.

“Y/N! What happened?” Prentiss shouted, following her outside. The concern in her voice echoed in Y/N’s mind.

“I just... need a minute,” Y/N replied quietly, trying to control the tremble in her voice.

Hotch stepped outside, his brow furrowed as he assessed the situation. “What’s going on?” he asked, his tone serious.

“Nothing,” Y/N breathes heavily, her chest heaving from anxiety and anger. “Nothing, I-I I’m fine.” She didn’t want to relive it; she didn’t want to talk about Adrian or the past. “I don’t want to discuss this.” She shakes her head rapidly.

“Why are you upset?” Prentiss pressed gently, her eyes filled with concern.

“I said I don’t want to talk about it!” Y/N finally snaps, her voice slightly rising as she felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She turned away from them, needing to find a way to breathe, to think without the weight of their gazes on her.

“Y/N, please,” Derek said softly, stepping closer but remaining respectful of her space. “Talk to us. We’re here to help.”

She shook her head, feeling the panic rising within her. “I can’t do this right now,” she said, her voice breaking. “I just– I cant. I’ll jeopardize the case if I go back in there. And I can’t do that to those women. I can’t mess this up.”

With that, she turned and strode toward the SUV parked at the curb, the need to retreat overwhelming her. She climbed into the back seat, shutting the door firmly behind her, pressing her forehead against the cool glass, desperately trying to find calm in the chaos that had erupted.

“Y/N!” Derek called again, but she didn’t respond, her heart racing as she stared out the window, willing the memories to stay buried and the present to fade away.

The team gathered outside, their expressions a mix of confusion and concern as they exchanged worried glances. “What do we do?” Prentiss asked, glancing from Hotch to Derek.

“We give her space,” Hotch replied, his voice steady. “She’ll talk when she’s ready.”

Derek clenched his fists, frustration coursing through him. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her, but he knew that pushing would only make things worse. “I hate this,” he muttered, his gaze fixed on the closed door of the SUV.

As the minutes ticked by, Y/N closed her eyes, willing herself to breathe, to find calm in the chaos swirling around her. She couldn’t let Adrian’s presence ruin everything she had worked for, everything she had fought to build. But deep down, she knew the shadows of her past wouldn’t let her go so easily.

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

Walking back into the police station, Y/N managed to get the entire teams attention without even speaking. The unfortunate part about working with such observant people is that even if she breathes a little too heavy, they can tell exactly what she’s thinking. And let’s just say her breathing is way different than what they would consider her “normal.”

Spencer, JJ, and Rossi all watch with concerned eyes as Y/N practically storms into the designated room they have for the case, slamming the door behind her. The glass windows shake from the force and she places her hands on the table before zeroing in on the case board in front of her.

Hotch, Emily, and Derek walk in, their own cautious gaze setting everyone on edge. Rossi looks at the trio, pointing back at the fuming agent in the other room. “What happened there?”

Hotch states after his younger agent, tilting his head as he tries to gauge whether she’s more upset or angry from beyond the window. “Something set her off at the house,” he answers.

“Not something, someone,” Emily corrects with a worried sighs. “As soon as her stepfather showed up, it was like her entire world stopped. And not in a good way.”

“Stepfather?” JJ furrows her eyebrows.

“Adrian Cole,” Reid answers for them, causing everyone to look at him confused.

“And how did you know that?” Hotch questions flatly.

“When she mentioned Diane was her mother, I did some digging and asked some of the other officers about her,” Reid admits with a harsh swallow as he notices Morgan glaring in his direction. No doubt for probing into Y/N’s life. “Diane got married to Adrian when Y/N was eight years old. Three years after her father died. He’s currently fifty-two, eight years older than Diane. I guess everyone was pretty surprised to find out they were seeing each other,” Reid reveals. “Sheriff Mills told me that it was the talk of the town when it originally happened. Adrian was kind of a recluse, not approached by many, kind of a ‘creep’ as described by the deputies,” he gestures over in the other direction. “So it was surprising to find out that Diane ended up with him, especially since she married her high school sweetheart, Y/N’s father, Daniel L/N.”

“So she kept her father’s last name,” Rossi points out, glancing back over to Y/N. “Shows how much she truly wanted to distance herself from her mother. Not taking her new husband’s last name.”

“Or maybe she was just closer with her dad,” JJ suggests.

“Or maybe her stepfather never got over his ‘creep’ reputation,” Emily scoffs out. “Gotta admit, if he was my stepdad, I wouldn’t want his last name either. I mean, the way he walked up to Y/N… it was almost predatory.”

Derek stands off to the side, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He listens to the conversation but doesn’t say anything yet. He’s been watching Y/N closely ever since they walked into her mother’s house, noticing every shift in her demeanor, every tell-tale sign that she was far from okay. Now, hearing the others discuss her like she’s some puzzle to solve only makes his jaw tighten.

“We can’t just sit here and talk about her like she’s not in the other room,” Derek’s voice breaks them out of their conversation. “We shouldn’t be discussing and probing into her life without talking to her first.”

“She doesn’t exactly look like she wants to talk, Derek,” Emily points out. “She kind of bit our heads off when we originally tried to get something out of her. We’re just trying to get an idea so we can help.”

“Well maybe instead of talking about her we should be talking to her,” Derek says snippily. “Then we might actually be able to get her to open up.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow, “You think she’ll open up?”

“To me? Oh, I know she will,” Derek nods his head confidently. “She trusts me. If anyone is going to get through to her, it’s me.” He says, his voice steady, though there’s an edge of protectiveness in his tone.

Without waiting for anyone else to respond, Derek heads toward the room where Y/N disappeared. The others exchange quick glances, knowing Morgan has a point. He’s closer to Y/N than anyone else on the team, and if she’s going to talk to anyone, it’s him.

Inside the room, Y/N stands in front of the caseboard, her eyes scanning over the photos and files without really seeing them. Her mind is racing, and it’s written all over her face. Derek walks in quietly, closing the door behind him. He watches her for a moment, his eyes softening as he sees the tension in her shoulders, the way she’s gripping the edges of the table like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.

"Princess," he says softly, using the nickname he knows she responds to when she’s upset. "You okay?"

Y/N doesn’t turn around, her voice coming out strained. "I’m fine, Derek."

He takes a step closer, his tone gentle but firm. "No, you’re not. Talk to me."

She lets out a shaky breath, still not looking at him. "It’s... it’s nothing. I just—there’s too much going on. I need to focus."

Derek’s not buying it. He steps closer until he’s standing next to her, he gently places his pointer finger under her chin, lifting her head up to him. "Y/N, look at me."

Reluctantly, she allows him to lovingly adjust her head, her eyes meeting his. The moment their gazes lock, Derek can see it—the fear, the anger, the confusion. She’s holding it all in, trying to keep herself together, but it’s a losing battle.

"You don’t have to do this alone babygirl,” Derek says softly, his voice full of concern. "Whatever’s going on, you know I’ve got your back."

For a second, she looks like she’s going to say something, but then she shakes her head, turning away from him again. "It’s just... I don’t know, Derek. I don’t know what to do, what to say,” she huffs frustratedly. “Things are a lot more complicated than everyone thinks they are.”

He watches her, giving her the space she needs but staying close, his presence solid and unwavering. "You don’t have to have all the answers right now. Just talk to me."

Y/N’s breath hitches, and she suddenly steps back from the caseboard, running a hand through her hair as she starts to pace. "It’s not just about Adrian, okay? There’s... there’s something else."

Derek watches her carefully, his eyes tracking her movements as she starts to unravel. "What is it?"

Y/N’s mind is moving a million miles a minute, pieces clicking together as she starts connecting the dots. She stops pacing and stares at the board again, her heart pounding. "I found the connection," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

Derek’s brow furrows. "What?"

Y/N swallows hard, her hands trembling slightly as she starts flipping through the files. "It’s me,” she admits shakily. “I’m the connection,” she rushes out, throwing files left and right. “The girls. I know all of them. I guess I haven’t been processing faces until now, trying to block out the memories I have here, but I can’t do it anymore. These women…” her hands tremble as she moves. “They’re dead because they knew me.”

“Whoa, whoa, sweetheart, slow down,” Morgan places his hands on her shoulders gently to get her to stop rambling. “What do you mean you’re the connection? You haven’t been here in over nine years.”

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, letting the warmth of Derek’s hands try to slow her mind. It works momentarily, but does nothing to slow her racing heart at the realization that she could be the key to this entire case. And she did exactly what she promised she wouldn’t. She jeopardized it. Ignored the fact she faintly recognized each victim. Ignored the nagging feeling in her brain that something was off. Thats why the team has been struggling to track the unsub, because they’ve been missing one key element. The connection between the victims. Why he picks them.

“They were all part of the same support group I was in when I was a teenager.” She swallows thickly, rubbing her now sweaty, nervous hands on her slacks. “All of them. That’s why I recognized Claire... and the others.”

Derek steps closer, his voice low but urgent. “A support group? For what?”

Y/N’s chest tightens as the memories flood back, memories she’s tried so hard to bury. "For survivors of abuse. Sexual abuse."

There’s a beat of silence as Derek processes what she’s just said. His jaw tightens, his protective instincts kicking in even harder. "Y/N..."

She doesn’t give him a chance to say anything else. Her eyes dart across the files, her mind racing as she speaks faster. "This isn’t just random. He’s targeting them, Derek. The girls from the group. I don’t know why, but he’s going after them. And now... now it’s happening again. They went through something so evil and vile as kids and now… now they’re being killed for it.”

Derek takes a step forward, his hand reaching out to gently grab her arm, grounding her. "Hey, slow down. We’ll figure this out, okay? You’re not alone in this."

“Derek, what if that means I’m next?” She asks him. “We have five victims, and there was only six people in the group. I’m the only one left.” She moves back to the case board, trying to see if any new information will reveal itself after this epiphany. “And it-it’s not like a lot of people knew about it…” she mumbles. “It was a private group, very secluded. It was us and whoever we chose to tell about our experience.”

“Babygirl…” The way Derek calls out to her, she can already tell exactly what question he’s going to ask next. Which is the main reason why she didn’t tell him sooner. She’s been trying to avoid the answer to this question for her entire life.

“Who did this to you?”

Y/N freezes, her eyes traveling down to her feet. She fights off the tears welling behind her eyes, needing to stay strong. This can’t have a hold over her anymore. She can’t keep living like this. In terror of returning to the place she used to call home.

“Adrian,” she says, her voice cracking. She doesn’t even have to turn to Derek to know his fists are clenched. She can feel the anger radiating off of him at the revelation. It all makes sense to him now. Why Y/N’s been acting off since getting to Baraboo, why she was uncomfortable in her childhood home, why she looked like she wanted to run and hide the second Adrian approached her. He violated her in a way no person should ever be violated. In a way that he understands all too well.

He manages to get ahold of his fury, walking closer to her. He sits down in the chair directly next to her body. He reaches out, grabbing her hand and rubbing his thumb over her soft skin. “How long?” He asks, a pained tone in his voice.

She keeps her eyes trained on her shoes, “Ten to fourteen,” she says barely above a whisper. “I went to the support group until I left for college at sixteen.” Y/N sits down next to him, almost hiding within herself. “Most of the other girls were older than me,” her eyes barely graze over the crime scene photos.

“Babygirl, this went on for four years? Did you tell anyone?” Derek wonders, not judging because he didn’t say anything either.

“I tried–” her voice cracks again as she chokes back her tears. She clears her throat to regain her composure, “I told my mom,” she admits quietly. “But she didn’t believe me. She told him I told her and that’s when things went downhill. She called me a liar, told me no one would believe me. Adrian played the victim throughout the whole thing, but the same night he came into my room and–” she sucks in a deep breath. “He told me it was my fault. That he was being so nice to me for doing what he was doing. Told me I wouldn’t make it without him or his help. And I was just a kid,” she sniffles. “I was scared out of my mind. I couldn’t defend myself because I believed him. And my own mother didn’t even think I was telling the truth. How could I tell the police?”

Derek doesn’t say anything but moves forward to pull her in for a hug. He holds her tightly and she slowly melts into his chest. They both can feel the eyes of the team on them, but choose to ignore it. “That’s why I went to the support group.” She continues, slightly muffled by Derek’s chest. “Because they were feeling the same way I was. Even if the people who did it to them were caught and put away, they still understood what it felt like.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t want you to have to relive this, but I gotta ask… Who else knew about these meetings?” He lifts her head up, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Anyone that you can think of. If you truly believe you are the key to this case, you’re the only one who would know.”

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Y/N says honestly. “Whenever I would go I would say it was for tutoring or book club. I didn’t want them to know I was looking for help. But the other girls could’ve told someone. I don’t think they did though. When we went it was for us. To help us cope. We didn’t feel the need to tell anyone else because we had each other.” Her forehead creases as she tries to think of someone who could’ve been aware. “I guess the only other person who would’ve known is the girl who facilitated it. She graduated five years before I even got there. Got a degree in psychology. I think she actually became a therapist here.”

“Would she have told anyone?”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head. “She was big on confidentiality. That’s why we all trusted her.” She thinks back to try and remember any detail she could. “Her name is Candy Brown. Dark hair, a couple inches shorter than me, real organized, had set schedules and certain ticks. Like borderline OCD. She would have to click her pen three times when moving onto a new person while taking notes.”

“She kept records?” Derek’s face suddenly morphs into one of extreme concern. “Y/N, if she wrote down everything you guys ever told her, someone could’ve easily found the notes and that’s how our unsub got his information. That’s how he could’ve figured out who was in the group.”

“We need to tell the team,” Y/N looks out the window towards the group of people who haven’t moved since Derek came to talk to her.

“Baby–”

“No,” she shakes her head, using her right hand to cup the side of his face. She looks him in the eyes genuinely for the first time since arriving in Wisconsin. “It’s okay,” Y/N reassures him. “This is information that pertains to the case and can help catch our unsub. They need to know.”

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

After telling the team all about her past, Y/N felt embarrassed but overall relieved. She could tell they were heartbroken for her, but none of them went too overboard with it, knowing it would make things worse if they coddled her over it. She was grateful to have Derek with her. She wouldn’t have been able to get through it without having a panic attack if he wasn’t holding her hand all the way through it.

Hotch sent her and Derek to find Candy and ask if she had lost her notes in recent months while him and the rest of the team delivered the more updated profile. Now that they had all the information, they could get a better idea of who this guy is.

Y/N was almost in awe of how large Candy’s building was. Sheriff Mills had given her and Derek the directions to get there, and it was almost refreshing seeing someone from that time in Y/N’s life flourishing. Especially since the other girls didn’t even get the chance to.

Walking into the office, Derek and Y/N flash their badges at the receptionist, informing her of who they are and why they’re here. She quickly guides them to Candy who is fervently writing down information.

“She just got done with a patient,” the receptionist whispers. “She’ll be done any second now.”

Suddenly the dark haired woman’s head shoots up, but not before clicking her pen three times. The same thing she needed to do when trying to move on from person to person.

“Candy Brown,” Derek begins, walking up to the woman to respectfully shake her hand. Y/N follows after him, her hands folded neatly in front of her. “I’m SSA Derek Morgan, and this is–”

“Y/N L/N,” Candy finishes, a mixture of shock and confusion in her voice. A small smile crosses her face as she takes in the now adult woman in front of her. “Wow,” she breathes out. “I haven’t seen you in–”

“Nine years?” Y/N finishes.

Candy nods, “Yeah.” She furrows her eyebrows, looking in between her and Derek, “What’s going on? I know your guys’ team is here investigating the murders, but why are you here?” She asks curiously.

“You remember the support group you created when I was here?” Y/N immediately jumps into the conversation, not bothering to beat around the bush.

“Yes?”

Y/N takes another step forward, analyzing the room around her, “I don’t know if you realized, but all of the victims were participants in the group.”

“Of course I realized,” Candy says. “That’s why I was so surprised to hear that you not only came back but are also working on a case where you could be a potential target.”

“And you weren’t worried about being a target?” Derek asks, brow quirked.

“No,” Candy answers with a small shrug. “After he killed Laura-”

“The second victim,” Y/N adds for clarification.

“Yeah,” Candy nods. “After I found out she was killed, I knew it was a matter of time before the others went.”

“And how exactly did you come to that conclusion?” Derek folds his arms, not understanding how she has so much intel on the case.

She swallows thickly, looking around and avoiding eye contact with the two agents. Y/N tilts her head, narrowing her eyes which makes the shorter woman squirm. “Candy…?” Y/N says expectantly.

“I thought they would’ve told you by now,” Candy starts. “I had a different office before this one. My old one burned down after it was burglarized.” Her explanation makes Y/N’s stomach twist in multiple different directions. Her and Derek make eye contact, knowing exactly where this is going.

“Let me guess, this all happened around two months ago?” Derek sighs when he watches Candy nod her head.

“Yeah. So someone did tell you?”

“No,” Y/N corrects. “That’s just when our unsub started killing.” She looks at Candy with a serious expression, “Listen, I need you to think long and hard about who could’ve had access to your office. Who also might’ve taken too much of an interest in the work you do with sexual abuse survivors.”

Derek elaborates more on the profile, “He should be a white male, late 40s to early 50s. He acts confident as a way to overcompensate for his past failures. He can be a bit of a creep sometimes but tries to cover it up with a facade of charm. He’s become an influential member of the community, but he wasn’t always that way. He had to claw his way up.”

Candy’s brows are furrowed in thought as she thinks deeply about what they’ve said. Her mind goes over the different people that were employed with her, those who spoke to her about her work, who showed interest. That’s when her eyes light up. She looks at Y/N, her lip quivering.

“What?” Y/N asks, immediately noticing the shift. “Candy, what is it?”

“The only other person who could’ve had access to my office in the other building was the cleaner I hired,” she answers. “I hired a third party to come later at night so my day janitors and custodians could go home earlier during the day.”

“Do you remember who this third party is?” Derek asks urgently, getting ready to phone Hotch.

Candy’s face falls, “It was Adrian,” she reveals quietly. Y/N feels like she’s been shot in the chest when the words leave her old friend’s lips. “He’s had this free lance cleaning business for some time now. It’s been pretty successful with all the small businesses around here. He was always asking questions after my meetings, but I would never tell him much. You know I wouldn’t betray Doctor-patient confidentiality like that.” Y/N nods along with the statement. “But after you left, the girls continued to see me. We met in group settings until I built my practice and then they started coming individually. Just for someone to talk to.”

“Did you still keep handwritten notes?” Y/N questions.

“Yeah,” Candy nods. “It’s the most efficient way for me to keep my thoughts organized. But there was one evening I remember that Claire came in and she was telling me how she felt isolated from the community. It was something all the girls had been hinting at, but I didn’t take it seriously until I realized all of them had said it. I was frustrated that I didn’t see them all asking me for help. So when Adrian came in that night, I just said that some of my clients felt alone.” She mentally facepalms, “I know I shouldn’t have even engaged in conversation, but he was just being so involved and nice about it. That’s when he told me to invite them to your mom’s luncheon.”

“And did they go?” Derek questions.

“Yes,” Candy nods. “I encouraged them to go together as emotional support. They all went to the same one.”

Y/N sighs, realizing they’ve already spoken to their unsub and let him get away. “And let me guess, it was the Sunday before your office was burglarized?”

Candy rubs a hand over her face, “And their files were the only ones unaccounted for.”

“Y/N, we need to call Hotch,” Derek tells her seriously. “We’re gonna need backup.”

She nods, a more than determined expression on her face. “Let’s go.”

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

Rolling up to her mother’s house twice within the span of a day was unexpected for Y/N, but she’s determined now more than ever to make sure this visit leaves an impact. The woman is the first one out of an SUV, darting towards the door with her gun ready in her hands. Derek follows closely behind, accompanied by Hotch and the rest of the team.

Diane’s car is in the driveway, so Y/N knows this isn’t going to go as smoothly as she desires. If she could just go in and take Adrian down, she would. But she knows her mother is going to try and fight it.

Hotch gives the signal, and Derek pushes the door open, stepping in first with Y/N close behind. The rest of the team fans out, guns at the ready, but Y/N’s focus is singular: Adrian.

Diane is in the living room, flipping through a magazine. She looks up, startled to see them. “Y/N?” she says, her voice warm with surprise. She stands, smiling tentatively, “What’s going on? What are you doing here?”

Y/N’s throat tightens as she looks at her mother. The warmth, the confusion in Diane’s eyes—it almost feels like any other visit, except this time, it’s not. “We need to talk to Adrian,” Y/N says, her voice steady but distant.

Diane frowns, glancing at the rest of the team behind her daughter. “What’s going on? Why do you need to talk to him?” Her smile fades slightly, but there’s still an air of disbelief as if this can’t possibly be serious.

Hotch steps in, his voice professional, calm. “Where’s Adrian, Mrs. Cole? We need to speak with him.”

Diane looks between Y/N and the team, her confusion deepening. “He’s in the bathroom. But what’s this about?”

Y/N feels the familiar dread creeping in, the same doubt her mother always carried. She avoids Diane’s gaze and nods toward the hallway, signaling to Derek and Rossi. “Go get him.”

As Derek and Rossi head toward the hallway, Diane’s tone shifts, becoming more defensive. “Wait, Y/N, what’s going on? You can’t just barge in here—”

Y/N feels a knot form in her chest, but before she can respond, Derek’s voice calls out, sharp. “Adrian! We know you’re in there. It’s over!”

There’s a clatter from the bathroom, followed by silence. Y/N’s eyes dart toward the hallway, tension crackling between them all. She can’t breathe, waiting for the door to open, for Adrian to step out.

Diane’s face hardens now, the warmth fading. “Wait, you think Adrian had something to do with these murders you’re here for?” she asks, her voice incredulous. “This is absurd. He hasn’t done anything!”

Derek reappears at the doorway, his eyes locked on Adrian as he exits the bathroom. Adrian’s face is calm, too calm, but there’s an edge to his voice as he looks from Derek to Y/N. “What’s this about?”

“We know what you’ve been doing,” Y/N says, her voice breaking the silence, though her throat feels like it’s closing in on itself. The weight of her past is crashing down all at once. “We know you found out about my old support group and have been preying on the women.”

Diane’s eyes widen in shock, her voice turning sharp. “Wait—what? This is what you’re accusing him of?” She turns to Y/N, disbelief clear in her expression. “You can’t be serious, Y/N. You’ve always had it out for Adrian—”

“Mrs. Cole, stop,” Derek interrupts, his voice firm as he steps between Y/N and her mother. His protective instincts kick in, but there’s a bite in his words now as he faces Diane directly. “You didn’t believe her then, and I get that you don’t wanna believe her now, but this isn’t a game. He’s connected to multiple murders.”

Diane’s face turns pale as the words sink in, but she shakes her head, her hands trembling slightly. “You’re wrong,” she says, her voice breaking. “Adrian wouldn’t—he didn’t do anything.”

Y/N feels the sting of her mother’s disbelief. After everything, Diane still won’t accept it. Derek glances at Y/N, his voice lowering but full of fire. “She’s your daughter. You should’ve protected her. Instead, you’re defending him.”

Adrian looks like he’s about to speak when Diane steps in front of him, as if shielding him. “Y/N, this is insane. You’re arresting him for murders? You’re destroying our family—again!”

Y/N snaps, emotion flooding into her voice, “Do you even hear yourself? Do you understand what’s happening right now?” She doesn’t want to raise her voice, but it’s like years of anger are bubbling to the surface. “He hurt me. He manipulated me, and now other women are dead because of him!”

Diane looks at Y/N with wide eyes, as if she can’t process what she’s hearing. “You’re lying,” she says quietly, her voice shaking. “You’re making this all up. You always blamed Adrian for everything—”

Y/N’s heart twists painfully in her chest. Even now, her mother doesn’t believe her. Derek’s jaw clenches as he steps forward, practically growling now. “She’s not lying. She’s been through enough, and it’s time you started listening to her instead of defending this monster.”

Adrian, sensing that things are slipping out of his control, sneers at Derek. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Derek’s eyes are sharp as he glares back, full of unspoken anger. “I know enough.”

Hotch steps in then, signaling Spencer, Rossi, and Prentiss. “We’re taking him in,” he says, his voice calm but decisive.

Diane stumbles backward as Morgan pulls Adrian’s arms behind his back to cuff him. “You can’t do this!” Diane cries out, her hands shaking as she reaches for Adrian.

“Ma’am I’m going to need you to step back,” Prentiss warns, her voice firm but not unkind.

Diane turns to Y/N, desperation in her eyes. “Please, Y/N. Don’t do this.”

Y/N’s throat tightens again, the pain almost unbearable as she looks at her mother. “I didn’t do this. He did.”

As they haul Adrian toward the door, Derek stays by Y/N’s side, his hand gently resting on her arm. He leans in, his voice softening just for her. “You alright?”

Y/N can barely nod. “I just… I need this to be over.”

Derek squeezes her arm gently, the tension between them unspoken but palpable. “We’ll make sure it is,” he says quietly. “He’s not gonna hurt you anymore.”

As Adrian is led out, Y/N watches him disappear through the door, the weight of everything she’s carried for so long finally starting to lift. Derek stays close, his protective presence like a shield around her.

“I should’ve seen this sooner,” Y/N whispers, her voice full of regret.

Derek looks at her, his eyes full of something deeper, something he hasn’t said yet. “This isn’t on you,” he says, his voice steady. “We’ve got him now.”

Y/N takes a deep breath, her heart pounding, but there’s a strange sense of relief starting to creep in. Maybe, finally, this part of her life is coming to an end.

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

In the interrogation room, Adrian Cole lounges in his seat, his cocky smile never wavering as Hotch and Derek sit across from him. The fluorescent lights overhead cast a cold, sterile glow, but Adrian is undisturbed, clearly enjoying himself. His eyes flick between Hotch and Derek, and there’s something calculating in the way he looks at them, like he’s already planning his next move.

Hotch keeps his voice steady, professional. “Adrian, we know about your connection to the women in the support group. Candy Brown confirmed that you used to work for her, that you were asking questions about the survivors. You were studying them, weren’t you? Figuring out how to get close.”

Adrian leans back in his chair, chuckling lightly. “Questions? You mean me being polite? Curious, maybe? Come on, Agent, that’s hardly a crime.”

Derek’s jaw tightens, but he remains composed. “You fit the profile. We know you’ve been stalking these women. We know Y/N was your real target all along.”

Adrian’s smile grows wider, his eyes shifting to Derek. “Oh, Agent Morgan. I see why you’re here now.” He leans forward, the playful tone in his voice turning darker. “This isn’t about the profile, is it? It’s about her. You’re here because of Y/N.”

Derek’s gaze hardens, but he doesn’t take the bait. “I’m here because of what you did.”

“What I did?” Adrian raises an eyebrow, mockingly confused. “You mean what you think I did. You’re just mad because you know I got to her first.”

The air in the room seems to thicken with tension as Adrian watches Derek’s reaction, clearly enjoying the game he’s playing. Hotch tries to redirect. “This isn’t about Y/N. It’s about the six women you killed.”

But Adrian’s eyes stay locked on Derek. “Six women… sure, that’s bad. But you know what’s worse, Derek?” He leans forward, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Knowing she’ll never be yours. No matter what you do, no matter how hard you try to protect her, you’ll always be too late. You can’t fix what’s already broken.”

Derek clenches his fists under the table, the muscles in his jaw working as he forces himself to stay calm. Adrian’s words are cutting deep, hitting exactly where he intended.

“You’re wrong,” Derek growls, barely keeping his composure. “She’s stronger than you think. And you’ll never touch her again.”

Adrian’s smirk doesn’t falter. “Strong? Sure. Strong enough to get away from me last time. But the thing is, Derek… people like her? They always come back. It’s just a matter of time.”

Derek leans in, his voice deadly quiet. “You’ll rot in prison before you ever get that chance.”

Adrian sits back, casually crossing his arms over his chest, his grin widening. “We’ll see.”

Hotch, sensing Derek’s rising anger, stands up. “We’re done here.”

Derek hesitates for a split second, his eyes still locked on Adrian, but then he rises as well. Adrian chuckles lowly and his eyes follow Derek as he moves toward the door. “Leaving already, Derek?” Adrian’s voice drips with mockery. “Y/N must have told you everything by now. How she couldn’t resist, how much she used to like it when I—”

Derek spins back around, his anger breaking through for just a second. “You need to shut your mouth.”

Adrian’s smile only widens as he leans forward, reveling in Derek’s reaction. “Touched a nerve, did I? Guess it’s not just Y/N’s mind I wormed my way into, huh?”

Before Derek can step closer, Hotch holds out an arm, signaling him to back down. He knows Adrian is trying to bait Derek into losing control. “We’re leaving,” Hotch repeats firmly.

As soon as the door to the interrogation room shuts, Derek finally lets the anger show on his face. “That guy is a real piece of work,” he mutters under his breath. He paces, trying to rein in his emotions. Rossi, JJ, Prentiss, and Spencer are waiting, their expressions tense.

Hotch nods, his expression grim. “He knows how to manipulate, how to get under people’s skin. That’s why he’s dangerous. But we need a confession.”

Derek shoots him a look, his voice hard. “You’re not seriously thinking about sending Y/N in there.”

“She’s the only one he’ll talk to,” Hotch replies, his tone even, though there’s clear discomfort in his eyes. “He’s too focused on her. He won’t crack for us, but with her, he might.”

“She doesn’t need to be anywhere near that psycho,” Prentiss adds, backing Derek up.

Rossi nods, his arms crossed. “He’ll try to manipulate her, Hotch. He’ll push all her buttons. You know how dangerous that could be.”

Hotch looks around at the team, his face unreadable, but resolute. “He’s not going to talk to anyone else. Y/N’s the reason this is all happening—he’s fixated on her. If we want a confession, we need her.”

Derek is still pacing, shaking his head in frustration. “Hotch, you know what he’ll do. He’ll tear her apart mentally.”

“Derek…” Y/N’s voice cuts through the tension as she steps forward, her face calm but determined. “I need to do this.”

Derek looks at her, his expression a mix of frustration and concern. “No, Y/N. You don’t have to do this. Let someone else handle it.”

Y/N meets his gaze, her voice steady. “It has to be me. He won’t talk to anyone else, and you know it. I’m the one who has to end this.”

Derek runs a hand over his face, still conflicted, but he knows she’s right. He can see the resolve in her eyes, the same determination that’s been driving her since this case started. After a long moment, he nods, though it clearly kills him to do so. “Fine. But I’m right outside the door. The second you need me, I’m coming in.”

Y/N gives him a small, appreciative smile. “I know.”

With a final glance at the rest of the team, Y/N walks into the interrogation room. Adrian’s eyes light up the moment he sees her, his grin returning.

“Well, look who it is,” he says, leaning back in his chair like he’s just been handed a gift. “I knew you’d come.” His eyes flicker with amusement as he takes in her demeanor. She’s calm. No sign of fear on her face, making his fists clench. “You always were a clever girl, Y/N. Smart enough to know what you wanted but never strong enough to follow through. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You think you’ve won.”

Y/N narrows her eyes. “I didn’t come here to win anything, Adrian. I came here to end this.”

He scoffs, leaning forward again, his tone dropping to a darker pitch. “End what? You think locking me up will change anything? You’ll still be thinking about me. You’ll always be connected to me. You and I, Y/N, we’re the same.”

Y/N’s lips curl into a tight smile. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’m not like you, Adrian. I’m stronger because I don’t need to control anyone to feel powerful. You? You’re nothing. You never were. You thought you had control over me, but really, you were just a pathetic coward trying to feel important.”

Adrian’s jaw tightens, but Y/N can see the flicker of anger behind his eyes. She presses on, her voice dropping to a cold, cutting tone.

“You couldn’t control me, Adrian. That’s why you went after those other women. You thought by killing them, you’d finally feel like you had power over something. But deep down, you knew the truth. You’re impotent. You can’t control anyone, least of all me.”

His hand twitches on the table, and his smirk falters. Y/N knows she’s hit a nerve.

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” Adrian hisses, his voice venomous. “You think you’re untouchable? I killed those women because they were weak! They were nothing compared to you! But I did it for you. Every one of them, Y/N! Every one was for you, to remind you of what I can do.”

His face twists with fury as he leans in, practically spitting the words now. “I did it because I knew it would bring you back to me. And guess what? It worked. You’re here. And when this is over, you’ll never forget me.”

Y/N doesn’t flinch, her eyes cold and unwavering as she meets his gaze. “You’re right about one thing, Adrian. I won’t forget you. But not because I’m scared or because you have any hold over me. I’ll remember you as the pathetic, cowardly man who couldn’t even face his own failures. You killed those women because you couldn’t handle the fact that I got away from you. That I beat you.”

Adrian’s face is red with rage now, his fists clenched as he glares at her. He’s lost his cool completely, no longer the charming manipulator he was trying to be. He’s exposed.

Y/N stands up slowly, looking down at him with calm, cold eyes. “You wanted me back in your life? Well, congratulations, Adrian. You’ve got a one-way ticket to prison, and the only time you’ll see me again is when you’re rotting behind bars.”

She leans in just a little, her voice dropping to a near whisper, her words like ice. “I won. You lost. And the worst part for you? You’ll spend the rest of your miserable life knowing I never belonged to you.”

Adrian’s face twists in a snarl, but he doesn’t say anything. Y/N doesn’t need him to. She’s already shattered his delusions.

As she turns to leave the room, she pauses in the doorway, glancing over her shoulder one last time. “Enjoy prison, Adrian. You’ll be surrounded by men just like you. Maybe they’ll remind you of what real powerlessness feels like.”

She walks out without looking back, leaving Adrian sitting there, fuming and defeated.

Outside, the team watches through the observation window. Derek’s eyes never leave Y/N as she steps into the hallway, her expression unreadable but victorious.

As soon as she’s out, Derek moves toward her, his voice low and full of quiet admiration. “You were incredible in there.”

Y/N gives him a small smile, but it’s bittersweet. “It’s over.”

Derek steps closer, his voice softening. “You did it, Y/N. You took him down.”

She nods, but before she can respond, her mother’s voice cuts through the moment. Diane, standing at the end of the hall, her eyes wide with shock and regret, had heard every word of Adrian’s confession.

“Y/N…” Diane’s voice trembles, her face pale as she takes a tentative step forward. “I didn’t know. I didn’t believe you and I’m—”

“Stop,” Y/N says, her voice sharp but not raised. She turns to face her mother, eyes hard. “I forgive you, Mom. But I’ll never forget what you did. Or didn’t do.”

Diane’s face crumples as she stares at her daughter, tears welling in her eyes. “Please, Y/N. I didn’t understand. I didn’t know how to—”

Y/N cuts her off again, shaking her head. “It’s too late. You had years to believe me. Years to help me. I’m done waiting for you to care.”

Diane reaches out, but Y/N takes a step back, her face unreadable. “Take care of yourself, Mom. I don’t need you anymore.”

With that, Y/N turns and walks away, the weight of years of pain finally lifted from her shoulders.

Derek watches her go, admiration and sadness flickering in his eyes. He catches up to her and without a word, pulls her into a tight embrace, holding her like he never wants to let go.

“You did good babygirl,” he murmurs into her hair, his voice thick with emotion. “You did real good.”

Y/N lets out a shaky breath, leaning into him. “It’s really over,” she whispers, and for the first time, she truly believes it.

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

Y/N stood in her kitchen, stirring the lavender tea she had made for herself, hoping the soothing scent would calm her nerves after the intensity of the past few days. The warmth of the mug seeped into her hands as she glanced at the clock—it was late, and for the first time since they wrapped the case, she was alone. It was a rare, precious quiet. She wore her comfiest pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, her hair thrown into a messy bun as she padded over to the couch.

She sank into the cushions with a sigh, trying to let the exhaustion slip away. Just as she curled up, ready to embrace the quiet, a knock came at the door.

Her brow furrowed. Who could it be at this hour? A part of her tensed, but when she peeked through the peephole, her face softened.

Derek.

A smile immediately spread across her lips as she quickly unlocked the door and swung it open. "Derek," she said, warmth filling her voice. "What are you doing here?"

He stood there, dressed casually in jeans and a fitted t-shirt, but the warmth in his dark eyes was what made her heart flutter. He held a small box in his hands, the edges of a smile tugging at his lips.

“I couldn’t let you be alone after everything,” he said softly. “And... I brought you something.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, eyeing the box with curiosity. “Oh? And what’s that?”

Derek stepped forward, holding the box out to her. “Carrot cake. Figured you could use a little sweetness after the last few days.”

Y/N’s smile brightened, and she laughed softly, the tension of the case beginning to melt away. “You remembered it’s my favorite.”

“Of course I did. I remember everything about you,” he said, his voice low and teasing, but there was an underlying sincerity in his words.

She took the box from his hands, shaking her head in amusement. “I think I need something sweeter than carrot cake, though.”

Derek cocked an eyebrow, that signature smirk playing at his lips. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

Y/N met his gaze, her voice soft but playful. “You.”

The smirk on Derek’s face softened into something more tender as he watched her, his dark eyes flickering with a mixture of admiration and something deeper. “Is that right?”

She stepped aside, motioning for him to come in. “Come on, might as well share the cake if you’re here. I’m not letting you leave just yet.”

Derek chuckled as he stepped inside, glancing around her cozy apartment before his eyes landed back on her. “I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

They moved to the living room, and Y/N placed the cake on the coffee table, her heart lighter now that Derek was here. The weight of the last few days seemed to lessen in his presence.

“So,” Derek said as they sat together on the couch, their knees brushing. “How are you holding up?”

Y/N exhaled, leaning back against the cushions. “I’m... okay. Honestly, I’m better now that you’re here. But it’s been a lot. I didn’t think I’d ever have to face him again, let alone...”

She trailed off, and Derek reached out, placing his hand gently on top of hers. “You don’t have to explain. What you did back there? Y/N, you were incredible. You stood your ground. You faced him head-on, and you came out stronger.”

Y/N looked at him, her heart swelling at the tenderness in his voice. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” she said quietly. “You were right there the whole time, and knowing that... it made it easier.”

Derek’s hand slid up from hers, his fingers lightly brushing her cheek before he cupped the side of her face. His touch was warm, grounding. His voice lowered, filled with awe. “Y/N, I’ve always been in awe of you. Always. But after this... what you just went through? You’re the strongest woman I know.”

Her heart fluttered as his thumb softly stroked her cheek, his eyes searching hers. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the space between them charged with something unspoken but undeniably strong.

Y/N’s breath hitched slightly, and she let herself lean into his touch. “Derek...”

Before she could say more, Derek’s eyes flicked to her lips, and in a soft, almost tentative movement, he leaned in and kissed her. It was tender, a kiss filled with emotions that had been building for so long. Her hand found its way to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her palm as she kissed him back, letting the warmth of him pull her in.

When they pulled away, their foreheads rested together, and Y/N smiled softly. “That was...”

“Long overdue,” Derek finished for her, his lips brushing hers again in a whisper of a kiss before he pulled back slightly to look into her eyes. “You’re amazing, you know that? I’m proud of you. And I’m not just saying that because of this case. I’ve always been proud of you.”

Y/N’s chest tightened with emotion, and she bit her lip to keep her smile from spreading too wide. “You’ve always been my rock, Derek.”

“And you’ll always have me,” he said, his voice low and certain, like a promise.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, Derek still holding her close, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace she hadn’t felt in days. She rested her head against his shoulder, her fingers still lightly touching his hand.

Derek wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer as they sank deeper into the couch. Neither of them felt the need to speak anymore, the warmth of their closeness enough.

Eventually, the exhaustion from the case caught up to them. Their breaths evened out as they lay together, bodies intertwined on the couch, the world outside fading away as sleep overtook them.

For the first time in days, Y/N finally felt at peace, knowing she was exactly where she was meant to be—in Derek’s arms, where everything just felt right.

Night School 1x07

“Lock it! Lock it!” Scott screams as he holds the left door shut for dear life. Fallon sits in between the two boys as panic sets in for all three of them.

“Does it look like I have a key?!” Stiles snaps.

“We’re gonna die,” Fallon mumbles, still staring off into the distance.

Stiles leans down, grabbing her hand, “Hey, look at me.” He forces her to meet his gaze by gently lifting her chin with his finger. “We’re not gonna die… At least not right now.”

“We will if you don’t grab something!” Scott screams at Stiles.

“What?” He looks around the area, trying to find something to lock the door with.

Scott waves his hands wildly, “Anything!”

Stiles huffs, completely overstimulated. He stands up and looks outside the window in the door and notices the bolt cutters they left outside. His eyes light up and Fallon can automatically tell what he’s thinking. She shakes her head, “Stiles… no.”

He looks down at her, “Yes!” He opens the door and shimmies his way out.

Scott scrambles to try and grab him, “No! Stiles, don’t–”

The door shuts, leaving Scott and Fallon inside as Stiles tries to sneakily grab the tool. The brunette girl struggles to get onto her good leg, barely peeking over the bottom of the window. She watches nervously as her friend analyzes the area, making sure the Alpha isn’t coming from another direction.

“Come on, Stiles…” she whispers nervously.

Stiles bends down, grabbing the bolt cutters and that’s when Fallon sees it. The Alpha crawls out from behind Stiles’ jeep, sights set on the spastic boy who still hasn’t noticed his presence. Fallon and Scott both start pounding heavily on the door, trying to get his attention. He turns to look at them, confused by the sudden commotion coming from them. That is until he follows their line of vision and sees the large creature bounding straight for him.

“Stiles, run!” Fallon screams.

He stays stunned for a moment until he realizes that his life is in imminent danger. He scrambles to his feet, tripping over himself slightly as he jumps back into the school, slamming the door shut behind him and sticking the bolt cutters in between the handles to hold it shut.

All three of them pant heavily before slowly moving to check outside again. Nothing. He’s gone. Their nerves spike again as they realize a gigantic werewolf has managed to disappear from view. “Where is it?” Scott asks breathily. “Where did it go?”

Stiles lifts his large LED lantern, flashing it through the window and partially blinding himself because of the reflection. They all continue looking for a moment, glancing in every direction but not seemingly able to find him. Her face is pale. She hates feeling terrified like this because she knows that the Alpha can sense it. He sensed it the night in the video store, and he sure as hell can sense it now.

“That won’t hold, will it?” Scott asks skeptically as he looks at their makeshift lock.

“Probably not,” Fallon replies grimly.

A loud howl causes them to jump out of their skin. Scott is quick to grab Fallon, putting her on his back as they run through the school. She clings onto him tightly, this ride being more bumpy than when she goes through the woods on her motorcycle. Stiles crashes into a classroom, Scott following closely behind with the previous cargo. He sets her down on a nearby chair, her crutches having been abandoned by the front doors to the school. Stiles grabs one side of the teacher’s desk, Scott grabbing the other as they go to move it towards the door.

“Shh! Stop, stop,” Stiles commands as the desk screeches loudly across the tile. He glances back at the door with a defeated sigh, “The door’s not gonna keep it out.”

“I know,” Scott huffs, removing his hands from the desk.

Stiles shakes his head, looking at Scott, “It’s your boss.”

“What?”

“Deaton? The Alpha? Your boss.” Stiles repeats, trying to make him realize the reality of their situation.

“No,” Scott denies.

“I mean, maybe,” Fallon mutters. Scott turns to her with narrowed eyes and she shrugs, “Come on, Scott. He was tied up in the back of the Camaro, then suddenly disappears? Only for the Alpha to show up ten seconds later and toss Derek across the freaking parking lot. Seems to add up, doesn’t it?”

“It’s not him,” he says determinedly.

“He killed Derek, Scott,” she reminds him, her heart beating faster as she replays the image of Derek’s body hitting the brick wall of the school. It’s also rather hard to forget as her once clean shirt is now covered in his blood.

“No,” Scott shakes his head. “Derek’s not dead. He can’t be dead.”

“Blood spurted out of his mouth, dude!” She exclaims. “I’m literally covered in it. The Alpha’s claws literally stabbed him through the back. He was thrown into a brick wall,” she lists off with a scoff. “And you think he’s not dead? He’s gone, Scott. And if the Alpha can take out a werewolf like Derek that easily, what do you think he’s gonna do to us, hm?”

Scott knows she’s right, “Okay just–” he sighs, “What do we do?”

“We get to my Jeep. We get out of here. And you seriously think about quitting your job,” Stiles rattles off his plan. “Good?” He doesn’t wait for a response before traveling over to the windows. Scott follows him while Fallon hops her way over. She pauses behind them as Scott tries to fiddle with the latch, the window not budging.

Stiles grabs his arm, “No, they don’t open. The school’s climate-controlled.”

“So break it,” Fallon says exasperatedly.

“Which would make a lot of noise,” Stiles counters logically.

“It doesn’t matter how much noise we make!” She exclaims. “He can hear our heartbeats and us talking right now anyway! He also has Scott and my scent,” she argues. “I don’t think smashing a window is going to make our situation any worse.”

Stiles goes to continue arguing but Scott stops him, “Stiles, what’s wrong with the hood of your jeep?” He questions, looking out the window with wide eyes.

Stiles furrows his eyebrows, “What do you mean?” He asks defensively, going to look out the window himself. “Nothing’s wrong…”

“It’s bent,” Fallon breathes out, tilting her head as she gazes out the window as well.

“What, like, dented?”

“No, Stiles, I mean bent,” Fallon insists. “Like half of it sticking in the air bent.”

The boy gasps when he sees what they’re talking about, “What the hell…?”

Their curiosity is cut off by the window above them shattering. They all scream, ducking down on the floor to take some sort of cover as a large object flies overhead and lands only a few feet in front of them. From the looks of it, none of them were hit by any falling glass, but the night is still young.

Fallon’s jaw hits the floor, pointing forward, “…That’s your battery,” she says to the boy next to her.

A small whimper leaves Stiles’ mouth as he thinks of how expensive replacing that part is going to be. He stares at it upsetly for another few seconds before shuffling forward to leave. Scott grabs him with a pointed look, “Don’t.”

“We have to move,” Stiles insists.

“He could be right outside!”

Fallon looks at Scott like he’s dumb, “He is right outside! And I don’t know about you, but I’m not gonna sit here and wait for him to come and eat me.”

Scott sits up slightly, sighing, “Just let me take a look.”

They wait as he scans over the parking lot once more, the Alpha absent from sight. Stiles glances up, “Nothing?” He wonders.

“No,” Scott shakes his head with a trembling breath.

“Move now?” Fallon requests, already using the desk next to her to get on her feet.

Scott nods, “Move now.”

Him and Stiles sling both of Fallon’s arms over their shoulders as they walk out into the hallway. They look down both ways, checking to see that the pathway is empty. “This way…” Scott starts pulling them.

Fallon’s body moves with Scott until she’s jerked back by Stiles. She grunts, sending the boy a small glare. He mumbles out an apology before explaining his abrupt motion, “No, no, no, no… Somewhere without windows.”

Fallon furrows her eyebrows, “Every single classroom in this building has windows,” she points out.

Stiles rolls his neck, tired of her arguing with him, “Or somewhere with less windows,” he corrects.

They all pause in thought, trying to think of somewhere in the school. Fallon takes another glance down the hall, taking another deep breath when there’s no sign of the Alpha. Scott’s eyes light up with an idea, “The locker room.”

Stiles nods rapidly, getting ready to move Fallon again. “Yeah.”

She winces, looking between the two, “Is it gonna smell in there? Because if it is, we should go to the girls.”

“Seriously?” Stiles looks at her as they run down the hallway. “Were being chased by Scott’s psycho, murderer boss and you’re worried about the locker room stinking?”

Fallon rolls her eyes, fighting off the urge to kick him because he’s right. “Just keep running.”

They manage to run down the hallway without making much noise to their surprise. Well, not much noise in their opinion. Some shoes were scuffled as well as a certain cuss word leaving Stiles’ mouth as he managed to almost drop Fallon on the way there.

Once they walk in, they set Fallon down on the bench and she looks around with an impressed nod. “Not bad,” she comments. “I only smell a faint stench of sweaty socks.”

The boys ignore her. Scott turns to Stiles, panting from running. “Call your dad,” he instructs.

Stiles scoffs, “And tell him what?”

“I don’t know!” Scott says urgently. “Anything! Gas leak. A fire. Whatever! If that thing sees the parking lot filled with cop cars, it’ll take off.”

“What if it doesn’t?” Stiles challenges, considering the opposite scenario. “What if it goes completely Terminator and kills every cop in sight, including my dad?”

“They have guns!” Scott exclaims.

Fallon leans forward, sending Scott a pointed look, “Yeah, and Derek had to be shot with some rare form of Wolfsbane to even be slightly slowed down, remember that? What do you think the Sheriff department’s peewee guns are gonna be able to do?”

Scott starts to get frantic, clawing for any escape plan from his brain. “Then we-we have to-we have to find a way out and just run for it.”

“There’s nothing near the school for at least a mile,” Stiles points out. “And we can’t keep lugging Fallon around everywhere. No offense,” he nods at her.

“None taken.”

“When does that thing get taken off anyway?” He questions, getting tired of the big bulky cast.

“I’m hoping by the end of next week,” she says, just as irritated with it as he is. “My dad said my X-rays looked good at my appointment yesterday so, fingers crossed.” She gets up from her spot, tired of being the one sitting. “Why don’t we just wait for the Alpha to come into the school?” She suggests. “Then we can just book it back to the other classroom and sneak out of the broken window.”

“Are you dumb?” Stiles narrows his eyes at her. “He already knows we were in there. Why would we go back? Haven’t you watched any sort of horror movie?”

“Yeah,” Fallon scoffs. “And everyone always dies after trying to find some elaborate way to escape. We have an easy opening in that classroom, we should take it.”

“Guys!” Scott interrupts them. “Why don’t we just take Derek’s car?”

“How the hell are we gonna get out to the car genius?” Fallon quirks a brow.

“That could work…” Stiles brushes over her comment. “We go outside, we get the keys… off his body… and then we take his car.”

“And him,” Fallon adds. “I’m not exactly down to just leave his body here.”

Stiles rolls his eyes like that’s a big ask, “Fine. Whatever.”

They all walk towards the door, Fallon more so hobbling. Stiles reaches forward to grab the door handle, but just as he’s about to open it, Scott reaches forward and stops him. His hand wraps around Stiles’ wrist. Fallon and Stiles look at him wildly, wondering what caused the sudden action.

“What?” Stiles lifts his eyebrows.

“I think I heard something,” Scott whispers.

“Wait, what?” Fallon whips her head to him in concern.

Scott slaps a hand over her mouth, “Shh, quiet.” He must hear something else as he slowly starts backing away from the door. He keeps Fallon behind him, turning Stiles’s flashlight around so it doesn’t give away their location. “Hide.”

Stiles acts fast, loudly opening one of the locker doors next to him and shoving himself inside. Scott winces at how much noise it made, but nonetheless grabs Fallon and brings her over to the lockers across from where Stiles is. He shoves her in one, shutting it gently before enclosing himself in the one next to her. The brunette girl covers her own mouth with her arm, trying to minimize the amount of sound her breathing makes as she hears footsteps approaching the locker room door.

The door opens slowly, the creaking sound it makes only increasing the tension that was already there. Fallon pushes herself as far back into the locker as she can, not wanting the Alpha to see her through the small slits in the locker.

Suddenly, the door to Scott’s locker swings open making Fallon’s fight or flight kick in. Despite her leg, she jumps out of her own locker, tackling whoever it is to the ground. “Go, run!” She shouts until she registers who exactly she just body slammed. It's the janitor. Her eyes widen as guilt and embarrassment flood her system. She pulls herself off the man, struggling to get to her feet, “I am so sorry, I–”

“Son of a bitch!” The man yells, rubbing the back of his head where he hit the ground.

“Quiet!” Stiles snaps, not wanting their location to be revealed.

“Quiet my ass!” The man scoffs. “What the hell are you trying to do, kill me?”

“Sir, I really am so sorry–” Fallon tries to get out.

“All three of you, get out! Now!” He points towards the door, his tone leaving no room for an argument.

“Will you just listen for half a second, okay–” Stiles starts in an attempt to calm the man down.

“Not okay,” the Janitor cuts him off, not interested in any excuse or story they have to offer. “Get the hell out of here right now.” The man grabs Scott and Stiles by their necks, glaring at Fallon harshly to get her to follow. She hops on her good leg, using the wall for support as they are all three tossed out of the locker room.

Stiles tries again, catching his balance before falling, “God, just one second to explain–”

“Just shut up and go!”

A loud scream leaves the janitor’s mouth as the door is slammed shut. The three of them watch in horror as he’s pinned against the wall, blood spurting out of him and onto the glass window of the door. The janitor pounds on the window, begging for them to save him from the monster attacking him. Scott moves to open the door, Fallon following closely behind until Stiles yanks them backwards.

“No, no, no,” he pushes them in the opposite direction. “Go! Go!” He scoffs over at Fallon who’s about to jump on Scott’s back, “What were you gonna do? Kick him to death with your cast?”

“You know what sounds like a fantastic idea? Me doing that to you.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon dismounts off of Scott’s back, practically tossing herself at the side doors to the school. She uses all of her body weight to get herself out, but bounces back slightly when the doors don’t give way like she was expecting. The boys grunt loudly as they try to push along with her, but nothing works.

There’s enough of a crack for Scott to push his head through. He sighs when he notices exactly what’s blocking them in, “It’s a dumpster.”

“You’re telling me that this killer werewolf took the time to lock us in here with a freaking dumpster?” Fallon stares at the door with a slack jaw.

Stiles stares ahead, baffled. “Yeah. He pushed it in front of the door to block us in,” he scoffs unbelievably. A surge of anger courses through the boy as he charges towards the door, once again trying to move the blockade, “Come on! Help me!”

Fallon grabs his arm, “Stiles!” She calls out. “It’s no use. We gotta find another way,” she mumbles.

He reluctantly allows her to pull him away from the doors as they start walking back down the hallway in search for another escape route. Stiles shakes his head rapidly, “I’m not dying here. I’m not dying at school,” he says anxiously.

“We’re not gonna die,” Scott reassures as they round a corner.

“What is he even doing?” Fallon asks out loud, trying to figure it out herself as well. “What does he want?” He didn’t attack her at the video store. He hasn’t tried to kill any of them. He hasn’t even really been violent with Scott. Just chasing him. Like a game of cat and mouse.

“Me.” Scott sighs frustratedly. “Derek says it’s stronger with a pack.”

“Oh great!” Stiles comments sarcastically. “A psychotic werewolf who’s into teamwork. That’s-that’s beautiful.”

Scott slaps a hand across both Fallon and Stiles’ chest. They both look at him, confused as to why he just soccer-mom’d the both of them. However, his eyes are stuck out the large window they are now standing in front of. Stiles and Fallon follow his line of vision, both of them turning a pale white as they see the Alpha on the roof across from them.

“Holy fu–” Fallon goes to scream, but is cut off by Scott swooping her up bridal style.

They bolt in the other direction, hearing the smashing of glass as the Alpha begins chasing after them. She grips onto Scott’s neck tightly as they open the door that leads to the staircase. Little grunts leave Scott’s mouth as he tries not to drop her while also maintaining his pace. She silently hopes he doesn’t drop her. She doesn’t want another cast for at least the next four years.

“Over there!” She whisper yells, pointing towards a random hallway. “There‘a a bunch of old beaten up lockers around that corner. We can hide behind those.”

The boys do as they’re told, rounding the corner and speeding towards the lockers she was talking about. They stop, pressing their backs against the cool metal which heavily contrasts their sweating bodies. Each of them holds their breath as to not give away their location. Fallon can hear the low snarling coming from the Alpha who’s only a mere few feet away. Scott barely looks around the corner, letting out a relieved sigh as the creature goes the other way.

“Go,” Scott mouths quietly.

“What?” Stiles tilts his head.

Fallon pushes him forward, “He said go,” she mumbles.

The three of them run forward for a moment, finding an area they deem far enough from where they just spotted the Alpha. They all stare at the entrance, anxiously waiting to see if they’ve been followed.

“Okay, we need to do something,” Fallon insists, backing towards another wall to ease some pressure off of her leg.

“Like what?” Scott asks exasperatedly.

“I don’t know!” She scoffs. “Kill it, maybe?! I am not above seriously debilitating that thing. Hell, we could sit here and mentally assault it for all I care!”

Stiles and Scott inch towards the door on the other side of the room. Fallon stays pushed against the wall, feeling slightly guilty that they’ve had to carry her around the entire night. She freezes in her spot as a distant growling fills her ears. The pipes in the school squeak eerily the longer they sit in silence.

Stiles reaches in his pockets, pulling out a pair of keys that begin to make a rather loud jangling noise. Fallon wishes she could smack him, but Scott seems to have that covered. “Wait a minute, no–”

“Shh,” Stiles hushes him. He finishes pulling them out, shaking them while doing so to create more noise. The growling grows closer and Fallon gets prepared to book it on her own. Out of nowhere, Stiles tosses the keys out of the door into the spare room. The room shakes violently as the Alpha comes barreling towards their location. Stiles slams the door in the things face before jolting backwards.

“What did you just do?!” Fallon screams.

“The desk!” Stiles yells at Scott to help him. “Come on, the desk!”

Scott surges forward, helping Stiles move the large table. They manage to scoot it in front of the door, locking the Alpha out, and also trapping him in the other room. They used the same “dumpster” tactic he used. Fallon exhales, putting her hands on her knees to calm herself down.

She jumps over to Stiles wrapping her arms around him, “God, I love that stupid brain of yours,” she says, relieved.

That relief only lasts a few seconds as the door jolts forward roughly. They all jump at the sound of metal clanging as the Alpha continues to try and break through. The desk separates Stiles and Fallon from Scott as it’s pushed against the door long ways. Stiles gestures for Scott to come to their side, “Come on, get across… Come on!”

Scott jumps over the metal table, standing with his friends on the other side as they look through the small window to where they’ve trapped the Alpha. Stiles cranes his neck in different directions to try and spot it.

“What are you doing?” Scott asks him incredulously.

“I just wanna get a good look at it…” Stiles trails off, practically pressing his face to the glass.

Fallon looks at him flabbergasted, “Are you crazy?! The last thing we should do is antagonize him.”

“Look, it’s trapped, okay? It’s not gonna get out,” he reassures them. The Alpha snarls once more, making Stiles jump on the desk to look at it dead on. He shines his light directly at the werewolf, “Yeah, that’s right, we got you…”

Fallon slaps his back, “What did I just say?” She seethes. “Don’t antagonize it! You’re just gonna piss it off even more than it already is.”

Stiles squares his shoulders, “I’m not scared of this thing–”

He’s swiftly cut off by the Alpha slamming its paw right in Stiles’ face where he was looking. The boy falls off the desk and into Scott’s arms with bated breaths. He scoffs slightly, trying to straighten his posture, “I’m not scared of you,” he calls out, his voice trembling slightly. “Right, ‘cause you’re in there, and we’re out here. And you’re not going anywh–”

A loud crash is all they hear as parts of the ceiling come crashing down from where the Alpha was previously trapped. The three of them slowly look up, hearing the heavy footsteps of the creature who is now crawling over them, inside of the roof. Stiles flashes his light up to the ceiling tiles which are bending under the weight of the werewolf.

Fallon pats Scott’s chest as they start backing away, “Run. Go. Now. Please,” she says in her broken up language. Scott nods his head, the trio taking off around the corner in search of another room to lock themselves in.

They run through random areas of the school that even Fallon didn’t know actually existed. She holds onto Scott’s shoulder as she hops alongside the two of them. Their pace is quick, but not too quick to where they’ll knock her over. She’s not sure how long they’ve been running around for, but it’s been long enough that she definitely needs her pain medication. Unfortunately, she left that in her backpack, which is at Stiles’ house. He insisted she leave her stuff there, saying they’d be back in no time. Look how that turned out.

“Wait, do you hear that?” Scott asks them, abruptly halting his movements. His brows are furrowed as he listens to something that Stiles and Fallon can obviously not hear.

“Not all of us have supernatural hearing, Scott,” Fallon reminds him. “So no, we don’t hear it.”

Scott shakes his head, “It sounds like a phone ringing…” Both of his friends look at him confused. They should be the only one’s in the school, and it’s none of their phones that are going off. Suddenly an alarmed look crossed his face, “I know that ring– it’s Allison’s phone.”

“Wait, are you sure?” Fallon asks him, worry filling her gut at the thought of Allison being stuck in the school with a psycho killer roaming around.

“Yes!” He exclaims, panic lacing his voice. “I-I need to find her. Do either of you have your phone?” He sticks his hand out, his anxieties skyrocketing. He needs to make sure she’s safe.

Fallon nods, grabbing her phone from her pocket and opening it. She pulls up Allison’s contact, pressing the call button before handing it straight to Scott.

She can see his shoulders visibly relax just the tiniest bit as he hears Allison’s voice. She sounds fine. He puts her on speaker so that Fallon and Stiles know what’s going on. “Fallon?” Allison asks, confused.

“No, it’s me,” Scott tells her as he and his two friends move with a new sense of urgency, trying to find Allison before something bad happens. “Where are you?”

“I’m in the school looking for you,” she reveals. “Why weren’t you at my place?” She queries, a bit of hurt in her voice.

“Where are you right now?” He questions her, needing a precise location.

Fallon can hear how lost Allison is, “On the first floor…”

Scott huffs loudly, clenching his fists at how vague her answers still are. “Where? Like where are you exactly?”

“The swimming pools.”

“Get to the lobby,” he instructs strictly, not giving her a chance to ask questions or protest. “Go. Now.”

“Okay. Okay,” she replies. “I’m coming.”

The three of them rush out towards the lobby, hoping to still find the girl in one piece. Fallon uses Stiles for support as they pick up the pace. Scott pushes through the lobby door, a sense of comfort filling him as he sees his girlfriend running towards him.

“Why did you come? Why-what are you doing here?” He rushes out, quickly oncing over her body to make sure she’s not hurt.

Allison furrows her eyebrows, “…Because you asked me to.”

Scott looks just as confused as she does, “I asked you to?”

Allison pulls out her phone, going to the texting thread between her and Scott. Delivered straight from him is a message that says, “Meet me at the school. URGENT.”

Fallon and Stiles share a disturbed look. Does that mean the Alpha has Scott’s phone? Allison picks up on the sudden fear filled tension the trio is sharing. She lowers her phone, “Why do I get the feeling that you didn’t send this message?”

A grim expression takes over Scott’s face, “Because I didn’t.”

Fallon hobbles forward, moving to stand next to Allison. “Did you drive yourself here?” She asks her friend worriedly.

Allison shakes her head, “Jackson did.”

“Jackson’s here, too?!” Scott exclaims, not wanting to have more people be exposed to the dangers of the supernatural.

“And Lydia,” Allison adds quickly. A frown etches its way into her face. All she wants is answers as to why they’re all three acting so odd. “What’s going on? Who sent this text?” Before anyone can think of a lie to answer her questions, her phone starts to ring. She sighs, pressing the device to her ear, “Where are you?”

Simultaneously as Allison asks that, Lydia and Jackson burst in through another door. The strawberry bl made throws her hands up, hanging up the phone she used to just call Allison. “Finally!” She huffs. “Can we go now?”

Allison looks to Scott for confirmation, but the only thing she’s answered with is a heavy thud from above. Stiles, Scott, and Fallon all look at each other, knowing exactly what’s causing the noise. The other three look confused but they definitely weren’t getting an explanation anytime soon. The creaking grows louder and that’s when they know they don’t have much time to get out of there.

Scott grabs Allison’s hand, “Run!” He shouts.

Stiles grabs Fallon, the two of them taking up the back of the group as they dart up the stairs. The heavy panting from the Alpha echoes close behind, thankfully no one dares to turn around, too afraid of being slowed down. They run straight across a long hallway before bursting into another empty classroom. Stiles and Fallon stop, the girl wincing as she plops down in the teachers chair. There’s no way she’s getting this cast off by the end of next week.

When she glances up, she notices the large wall of windows ahead of her. Stiles gapes at the same thing, both of them having the same thought. They would be sitting ducks if they stayed here. The sound of bolts clicking and the door locking causes them to turn around. Jackson and Scott are hurriedly locking and trying to block them in with desks and different arrays of items.

“Help me get this in front of the door.”

Fallon shakes her head, “No, Scott. Wait, we can’t stay–”

“What was that?” Allison talks over the brunette anxiously. She tries to get her boyfriend to answer her, “Scott, what was that?”

“What came out of the ceiling?” Lydia piles onto her friend’s questions, shuffling in her feet nervously.

Jackson and Scott ignore the two girls, piling more and more things in front of the door. Fallon puts her head in her hands, not being able to watch the train wreck unfold. They’ve basically just locked themselves in their own coffin. The Alpha can easily get to any of them.

Her leg is throbbing along with her head. She’s wishing more than anything that she had taken her pain pills before coming here. Not that she’ll need them for very much longer. At this rate she’ll end up dead and not have to worry about broken bones.

“Will you just help me?” Scott calls out to the girls. “The chairs– stack the chairs,” he instructs in a panic.

Allison and Lydia do as they’re told, stacking and moving the chairs where everything else is. Stiles starts to get irritated that no one is listening to him and Fallon, “Guys– can we just wait a second?” Everyone continues moving in a frenzy, not paying any mind to the only two people not assisting. “You guys, listen to me, w–” He frustratedly runs a hand through his buzzed off hair. Fallon feels her own anger bubbling at them just being blatantly ignored. “Can we just wait one second? Guys? Stiles talking,” he comments sarcastically. “Can we hang on one second, please?”

“HEY!” Fallon screams, sick of being talked over. “Would you all just shut up for like ten seconds and listen? Holy crap,” she breathes out, standing up from her seat. All eyes turn to her. They all look spooked, never having heard the brunette raise her voice like that, especially not at them. She limps over to Stiles, her frustration preventing her from sitting still.

“Thank you…” he mutters to her. When his gaze meets everyone else’s he begins to clap sarcastically, “Okay, nice work. Really beautiful job, everyone,” he points to their mountain of furniture mockingly. “Now... What should we do about the twenty-foot wall of windows?” He turns his back to them, presenting the large window pane like it’s an expensive car at a dealership and he’s the salesman.

They all just stare at him awkwardly. No one thought of that, and it shows. Instead of coming up with a solution, the only thing that can be heard is the hysterical breathing of Allison. “Can somebody please explain to me what's going on, because I'm freaking out here. And I would like to know why.” No one answers her so she walks over to her boyfriend, looking at him expectantly, “Scott…?”

Scott looks lost. He doesn’t know what to tell her without completely exposing the truth. Fallon shakes her head, telling him to make up a creative lie. They can’t risk dragging other people into this mess. The werewolf storms away from Allison who keeps looking at him for answers. He braces his arms on a desk a few feet away, his mind running a marathon. He doesn’t know what to say.

“Somebody killed the janitor,” Stiles blurts out.

Fallon spins her head to him so fast. Her eyes look as though they are about to pop out of her head. Everyone is already freaked out enough and he just went and told them that there’s a dead body in the school. He notices the way Fallon’s eye twitches and takes a small step away from her. She fights off the urge to strangle him as Lydia screams from her spot.

“What?!”

“Yeah, the janitor’s dead,” Stiles continues. His heart is in the right place trying to help Scott, but this is the wrong way to go about it.

Allison shakes her head, like denying it will make it go away. “What’s he talking about? Is this a joke?”

“What? Who killed him?” Jackson asks.

Lydia exhales, her whole body trembling, “No, no, no, no… This was supposed to be over… The mountain lion killed–”

“No, don’t you get it?” Jackson snaps, cutting her off. “There wasn’t a mountain lion.”

“Who was it?!” Allison demands. “What does he want? What’s happening?” She asks in a whisper. Scott stays quiet, his mind reeling with possible explanations and people he could blame. “Scott?!” She screams at him.

The boy turns around, stammering, “I-I don't know. I-I just– If-if we go out there, he's gonna kill us.”

“Us?” Lydia’s voice goes up an octave out of anxiety. “He’s gonna kill us?”

“Who?” Allison reiterates. “Who is it?”

Her doe eyes land on Stiles and Fallon who she thinks should also have the answers. Fallon glares at Stiles for bringing up the dead body in the first place. “Fallon?” Allison whispers.

The brunette sighs, rubbing her hand over her face frustratedly. “We don’t know–” She tried to answer in a half-truth but is cut off by Scott.

“It’s Derek,” he lies. “It’s Derek Hale.” Fallon’s face falls as she hears the false accusation. She narrows her eyes at him, disgust being the only readable emotion on her. The poor man might be dead and Scott’s trying to pin another murder on him? One they know for sure he did not commit.

“Derek killed the janitor?” Jackson furrows his eyebrows skeptically.

Allison’s mouth opens and closes, “A-Are you sure?”

“I saw him,” Scott insists, voice raising out of both irritation and desperation.

Lydia shakes her head, “The mountain lion–”

“No!” Scott yells. “Derek killed them.”

“All of them?” Allison asks fearfully.

“Yeah. Starting with his own sister.” This lie is what does it for Fallon. She grips tightly onto the desk next to her so she doesn’t lunge forward and kill Scott. It makes her sick to her stomach how he can say something like that.

“The bus driver?”

“And the guy in the video store.” Scott confirms. “It's been Derek the whole time. He's in here with us. And if we don't get out now, he's going to kill us, too.”

Fallon could only stare at Scott in disbelief. She thought he’d come up with a creative lie, not pin three murders on someone who has already been released as a person of interest. She glances at Stiles who looks just as baffled as she does. They both clearly think it’s a terrible and immoral idea to throw Derek under the bus for this, but Stiles won’t argue against it like she will.

“Call the cops,” Jackson orders.

“No,” Stiles replies.

Jackson looks at Stiles angrily, “Wh-what do you mean, ‘no?’” He asks incredulously.

“I mean, no,” Stiles glares at the jock. “You wanna hear it in Spanish? ‘Noh.’” He puts on his best Spanish accent to accentuate his sarcasm. “Look, Derek killed three people, okay? We don’t know what he’s armed with,” he says, playing into Scott’s lie.

“Your dad is armed with an entire Sheriff’s department,” Jackson argues loudly. “Call him!”

Lydia pulls out her phone, not even bothering to ask Stiles. She takes a step forward, “I’m calling.”

“No, Lydia, would you just hold on a sec–” Stiles tries to follow after her, not wanting to put his father or other lives in danger. Jackson pushes Stiles backwards making Fallon jump forward despite her leg.

“Hey–” she smacks Jackson’s arm away from Stiles’ body. “Touch him and I break it,” she threatens.

“Yes, we’re at Beacon Hills High School,” Lydia tells the operator. “We’re trapped, and we need you to–” she’s stopped by the person speaking to her. Her perfectly manicured brows raise in shock, “But–” she tries to protest, but it’s no use. A distressed and shocked look overtakes her face as she removes her phone from her ear, “She hung up on me…”

“The police hung up on you?” Allison asks bewildered.

“She said they got a tip warning them that there are gonna be prank calls about a break-in at the high school. She said if I called again that they're gonna trace it and have me arrested,” she explains, tears forming at her waterline.

“Okay, then call again,” Allison instructs.

Stiles shakes his head, “No, they won't trace a cell, and they'll send a car to your house before they send anyone here.”

Allison stutters, bringing her hands up to her temples to rub her head frustratedly, “What the– what- what is this?” She laughs humorlessly. “Why does Derek wanna kill us? Why does he want to kill anyone?” She asks, making everyone's head turn to Scott who still looks like he’s trying to get his story straight.

“He doesn’t…” Fallon mumbles lowly enough that only Stiles can hear. He sends her a pointed look, one in which she returns.

“Why’s everyone looking at me?” Scott says defensively.

“Is he the one that sent her the text?” Lydia interrogates.

“No,” he shakes his head exasperatedly. “I mean, I don’t know.”

“Is he the one that called the police?”

“I don’t know!” Scott finally snaps at Allison’s last question which makes her frown and look away, hurt by his harsh tone.

While Fallon does want to smack Scott upside the head for the web of lies he just created, she does feel bad that he’s receiving all the heat. He’s in the exact same position they are all in, and probably has some questions of his own about what’s going on. He doesn’t have the answers for everything. The rapid fire questioning is starting to get on her nerves, so she can’t imagine how he feels.

Scott realizes he took his anger out on the wrong person. He looks down at the floor, ashamed of how he talked to Allison. Stiles places his hand on Scott’s chest, “All right, why don’t we ease back on the throttle here, yeah?” He pulls Scott off to the side, dragging Fallon behind him. “Okay, first off– throwing Derek under the bus? Nicely done.”

Fallon scoffs with a venomous smile, “Yeah, great work,” she nods sarcastically. “Y’know for blaming a most likely dead dude for three murders, one in which he’s already been exonerated for. You’ve been relying on him to teach you how to control yourself, Scott. You both also have already gotten him arrested, so if he did survive that, I guarantee he’s not going to be so forgiving this time around,” she lectures.

“I didn’t know what to say!” Scott defends himself. “I had to say something, and like you said, if he’s dead, then it doesn’t matter, right?”

“I said most likely,” Fallon crosses her arms. “He’s still a werewolf who survived a bullet wound and being almost burned alive in his home.”

Scott’s hope for Derek being dead dwindles. He groans at his own temper, “Oh God, I totally just bit her head off.”

“And she’ll get over it,” Fallon rolls her eyes. “Love you both but the last thing any of us are worried about right now is your teeny weeny fight. If she stays mad, then let her. Got more important things to focus on here.”

“Agreed,” Stiles nods. “Biggest issue we got right now is how do we get out of here alive?” He asks.

“But we are alive,” Scott points out logically. “It could’ve killed us already. It’s like it’s cornering us or something.”

“So, what? He wants to eat us all at the same time?” Stiles questions mockingly.

Scott scoffs at the overdramatization, “No. Derek said it wants revenge,” he brings up.

“Against who?” Fallon ponders. “The Argents?” She suggests. The only people she remembers having any negative reputation with werewolves is them simply because they’re hunters.

“That's what I’m thinking,” Scott nods.

“Maybe that’s what the text was about,” Stiles snaps his fingers as he tries to connect the dots to each other. “Someone had to send it.”

“Okay, assheads! New plan–” Jackson interrupts their conversation causing the trio to look over at him. Fallon chooses to ignore the rude nickname seeing as everyone is on edge. “Stiles calls his useless dad and tells him to send someone with a gun and decent aim. Are we good with that?” He gestures to the two girls with him.

“You don’t have to do that, Sti,” Fallon whispers to him, rubbing his back with her hand.

Stiles looks troubled as Scott sends him a look that says the opposite of what Fallon just said. “He’s right. Tell him the truth if you have to. Just… call him.”

Stiles shakes his head, leaning over to whisper, “I’m not watching my dad get eaten alive.”

“Which is completely justified,” Fallon agrees, glaring at Scott. “Would you put your mom’s life at risk with the Alpha wandering around the halls?” She quips.

Jackson grows angry at the lack of action being taken. He lunges forward, reaching to forcefully remove the phone from Stiles’ hand. “All right, give me the phone!”

Fallon has tried this whole evening to keep her anger at bay. But her fear and frustrations are coming to a boil. So when she feels Jackson shove Scott and her to get to Stiles, her resolve finally snaps.

One moment, Jackson’s arms are outstretched to push her to the side, the next Jackson is groaning in pain and retreating back over to Lydia and Allison. “Damn,” Fallon grumbles, shaking her now swollen, bright red hand. Jackson’s face is sporting the shame shade of red right where her fist collided with his skin.

Stiles and Scott wish they could say they were shocked, but this has been a staple for Fallon since they met her. Stiles smirks proudly, recalling the time she defended them against Tony in the third grade. She’s never been a fan of bullies, even if she’s on good terms with them herself. Defending Scott and Stiles has always been her priority and that’s why she ignores the slight dirty looks from Allison and Lydia.

“Dad, hey, it's me,” he greets until he realizes his father didn’t actually answer. “And it's your voicemail. Look, I need you to call me back now. Like, right now. We're at the school. Dad, we're at the school.”

Stiles hangs up the phone, ending the voicemail to his dad. Fallon massages her knuckle, shrugging over to Jackson who glares at her. That might put a bigger dent in their so-called “friendship.” Out of nowhere, the doors to the room start to shake. All of them jump with a yelp as the Alpha bangs on them trying to get through to the group of teens. Despite the high tensions, they all huddle together in attempts to protect themselves.

“The kitchen. The door out of the kitchen leads to the stairwell,” Stiles says, keeping his eye on the door that’s shaking.

“Which only goes up,” Scott reminds him.

“Up is better than here,” Fallon adds, slowly inching her way to the stairwell.

“Jackson, how many people can fit in your car?” Scott asks urgently, hoping that can be there escape plan rather than having to explain stealing Derek’s Camaro.

“Five, if someone squeezes on someone’s lap.”

Allison turns to him with a scoff, “Five?!” She exclaims. “I barely fit in the back.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Stiles reality checks the situation. “There’s no getting out of here without drawing attention.”

“What about this?” Scott starts, walking over to the door on the other side of the room. “This leads to the roof. We can do gown the fire escape to the parking lot in, like, seconds.”

“That’s a deadbolt,” Stiles points out as he goes to examine the lock.

“The janitor has a key.”

“You mean his body has the key,” Fallon clarifies as she joins the two boys, further away from the rest of the group.

“I can get it,” Scott tells them. “I can find him by scent, by blood.”

“Well, gee, that sounds like an incredibly terrible idea,” Stiles criticizes quickly. “What else you got?” He crosses his arms, waiting for a better plan.

Scott looks to Fallon to see if she’ll back him up. To his misfortune, she has the same defiant look as Stiles. “Don’t look at me,” she shrugs. “I’d rather not have to explain to our parents why you got murdered going to fish some keys off of a dead body. I prefer you alive despite how stupid I think you are.”

The boy looks at her determinedly, “I’m getting the key,” he persists.

Fallon rolls her eyes at his superhero complex. She does appreciate his effort and need to save everyone, but sometimes it’s too dangerous. She really doesn’t want to see him get hurt, or kidnapped, or killed. There are many different ways this could go with the Alpha watching them.

“Are you serious?” Allison asks him aghast.

“Well, it’s the best plan,” Scott admits. “Someone has to get the key if we wanna get out of here,” he explains.

“You can’t go out there unarmed.”

Scott agrees, scanning the room to look for some kind of weapon. He reaches over, grabbing a long pointer stick the teacher who occupies the classroom probably uses for lectures. They all look at him warily. He shrugs, “Well, it’s better than nothing.”

“There’s gotta be something else…” Stiles frowns, Turing on his heel to find something more useful for his friend to defend himself.

Lydia searches as well, her eyes landing on the cabinet full of different chemicals behind her, “There is,” she smirks. Fallon follows her sightline, tilting her head as she picks up on what Lydia’s getting at.

Stiles throws his hands up when he notices what they’re looking at, “What are we gonna do? Throw acid on him?”

Fallon sighs, “No– it’s kinda like a fire bomb,” she tries to explain in terms Stiles would understand.

Lydia nods, “In there is everything you need to make a self-igniting Molotov cocktail.”

Stiles squints his eyes, still dumbfounded by what they’re saying, “Self…igniting…”

“…Molotov cocktail,” the strawberry blonde finishes snidely. She notices the odd look from her boyfriend, “What? I read it somewhere,” she covers, still trying to act dumb.

“We don’t have a key for that either–” Stiles tries to point out, but is cut off by Fallon walking forward and shoving her jacket clad elbow through the glass. It shatters and she steps away, brushing off the small pieces that stuck to the cloth. “Nevermind…” Stiles mutters.

Fallon rummages through the cabinet, getting all of the chemicals and items needed while Lydia works on combining the right amount of ingredients. They all watch the two girls work, Jackson handing Lydia the materials Fallon puts down.

“Jackson,” Lydia calls out for the blonde who’s standing closest to her. “Hand me the sulfuric acid.”

He mindlessly grabs a bottle and hands it to her. The bored look on his face makes Fallon roll her eyes, but he quickly becomes intrigued when he hears Allison become hysterical as she speaks to Scott.

“No. No, this is insane,” she looks at him with tear filled eyes. “You can’t do this. You cannot go out there.”

Scott sighs, trying to find the best way to comfort her, “We can’t just sit here waiting for Stiles’ dad to check his messages,” he argues softly.

Allison leans over the desk, “You could die,” her speech starts to become more frantic. “Don't you get that? He’s killed three people.”

“And we’re next. Somebody had to do something,” Scott says persuasively. Fallon understands that Allison is just worried, but if they just sit here and do nothing, they’ll have way less of a chance at surviving.

He goes to walk towards the door to leave the classroom, but Allison gets in his way, “Scott, just stop,” she begs him. “Do you remember-do you remember when you told me you knew whether or not I was lying? That I had a tell? Well, so do you. You're a horrible liar, and you've been lying all night. Just-just please, please don't go. Please don't leave us. Please.”

Fallon has never felt more awkward in her life. She knows how serious this is, but the over emotional-ness of the conversation is making her extremely uncomfortable. She rubs the back of her neck, looking anywhere but at the couple. However, there is one person who’s seemingly enjoying the little quarrel. Jackson. The brunette rolls her eyes, moving as far away from the blonde as possible.

Scott gives her a regretful look before trying for the door again, “Lock it behind me,” he breathes out. Allison doesn’t let him get far before pulling him back to her by his arm. She connects her lips to his, making everyone else glance in another direction. Fallon doesn’t understand their relationship. One minute she’s mad at him for leaving, and now this. It’s giving her whiplash and she’s not even involved.

Once the door shuts behind Scott, Fallon walks over to it and locks it. “Good luck, Scotty,” she whispers, hoping he hears her. Now it’s all about waiting. The brunette slides into a spot besides Lydia who is watching Jackson comfort Allison from afar. She nudges the strawberry blonde, “You okay?”

Lydia scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest, “No, obviously I’m not okay. We are all stuck in the school with some crazy killer out to get us and our only hope of getting out is if Scott manages to hit Derek with that cocktail.”

Fallon sighs, “I know. But I have faith in him. Scott’s resourceful. He won’t let us die here.”

Lydia doesn’t respond, a frown etching its way into her features as she watches Jackson hold Allison’s hand. Fallon glares in his direction. He has a girlfriend who needs him too, and yet he’s over there preying on Allison. “I never understood why you pretend to be dumb in front of him.”

Instead of pretending she’s clueless to what Fallon’s talking about, Lydia just shrugs, “The same reason you’ve never accepted the co-captain position,” she answers simply.

Fallon lifts an amused brow, chuckling slightly, “Touché.”

“Men’s egos are a fragile thing,” Lydia mutters almost disgustedly.

Fallon nods in agreement, “Especially ones like Jackson.”

Lydia hums quietly, wanting to say something but holding back for the sake of her relationship. She slowly ventures out from behind the desk and towards Jackson. Fallon doesn’t try to stop her because there is no convincing Lydia to break up with him. There never has been. She just hopes that the shorter girl realizes her worth and how much more she could do if she didn’t hold herself back for him. Or any guy for that matter.

“So the Incredible Hulk made a special appearance tonight, huh?” Stiles’ voice pulls her out of her thoughts.

Fallon looks down at her feet to hide her smirk, “I didn’t mean to…” she mumbles. “I just saw Jackson coming at you and it kinda just… came out, I guess.” She admits.

“Well, not that you need me to tell you, but I thought it was super badass,” he nudges her shoulder with his own smile. His small grin fades when he notices her messing with her fingers. A habit she has when she’s nervous. “We’re gonna be okay, Fall,” he whispers, lacing his fingers with hers.

A sense of warmth fills her chest. She squeezes his hand, mindlessly rubbing her thumb on the back of it. “I know…” she says unsurely. Stiles shoots her a pointed look. “Or at least I hope so,” she gives in to her insecurities about the situation.

“We’ll get out of here,” he reassures her, kissing the side of her head. She sighs, nodding her head before leaning onto his shoulder. He wraps his arm around her waist to hold her close. As much as he wants to say he’s comforting her, having her next to him like this is doing more for his anxieties than hers. “And then by the end of next week, you’ll have this stupid thing off,” he pats her cast, “then this will all feel like some stupid, distant memory.”

“I don’t know about distant,” she jokes quietly. “But definitely something we can trauma bond over.”

“Dead bodies and Alpha werewolves,” he nods, his lips in a thin line. “Nice.”

“Jackson, you handed me the sulfuric acid, right?” Lydia’s voice pulls their attention over to where she, Jackson, and Allison are standing. “It has to be sulfuric acid– it won't ignite if it's not.”

“I gave you exactly what you asked for tonight,” Jackson snaps tensely, glaring at Lydia for no reason.

Lydia looks taken aback, almost flinching at the sound of his voice. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure you did.”

Silence falls over the room, no one really knowing what to say to one another. The tension is high as they wait for any sign of Scott or safety. A few minutes later, a loud growl comes from somewhere within the school. Everything in the building felt like it was shaking. Fallon covers her ears, the loud noise becoming too much to handle. Everyone else has the same reaction, cowering away from whatever it could be… except for Jackson. He falls to his knees, clutching the back of his neck.

Lydia and Allison rush to his side and try to help him up, but all Fallon and Stiles could focus on is the marks on the back of his neck. Marks that look vaguely similar to werewolf claws. Fallon’s eyebrows furrow. It couldn’t have been from the video store. The Alpha didn’t even touch him then.

“No, I’m fine,” Jackson brushes the girls off. “Like, seriously– I’m okay.”

“That didn’t sound okay at all,” Allison argues.

Stiles goes to reach for the claw marks, “What’s on the back of your neck?”

“I said I’m fine!” Jackson slaps Stiles’ hand away with a withering glare.

Fallon grabs Stiles, pulling him back. They both know exactly what’s on his neck. Lydia glances at the two friends, “It’s been there for days,” she explains. “He won’t tell me what happened.”

The blonde scoffs harshly, “As if you actually care,” he says snidely.

“Woah,” Fallon puts her hands up. “She wouldn’t be asking if she didn’t care, asshat. So why don’t you try responding respectfully this time before I punch you so hard that I actually break something?” She takes a menacing step towards Jackson but is yanked backwards by Stiles.

“Calm down,” Stiles scolds her. “Can we not argue for like half a second here?” He begs everyone.

Allison glances to the door worriedly, “Where’s Scott? He should be back by now.”

Suddenly there was a small click at the door. Almost like the sound of it being unlocked from the outside. Allison’s eyes widen as she shoots towards the door, “Scott! Scott!” She screams. She frantically tries to turn the door knob, but it doesn’t budge. He must be holding the handle still from the outside. She continues yelling for him, desperate to make sure he’s okay.

“Stop! Stop!” Lydia yells, catching Allison’s attention. She stops screaming and wriggling the door handle. “Do you hear that? Listen.” Everyone stays silent and that’s when they hear the heavenly sounds of police sirens. Noah got Stiles’ message.

They all walk towards the window, sighing in relief as they see police cars pulling up to the school one by one. Fallon leans into Stiles’ side once she realizes that what he said was true. They are all going to be okay. Stiles smiles softly, leaning his head on top of hers, happy to accept the affection.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon sits on the edge of an ambulance, the EMT’s doing a bit extra than what they did for the others due to her broken leg. Stiles sits next to her, not wanting her to be alone while Scott stands at her other side. Doesn’t leave much room for the paramedics to do their job, but she doesn’t want them to leave her side.

“You sure it was Derek Hale?” Noah Stilinski asks skeptically to the three teens.

“Yes,” Scott answers confidently.

“I saw him too,” Stiles adds.

Noah narrows his eyes, still not totally convinced. He glances at the brunette, “Fallon?”

The girl wasn’t sure what to say. Derek wasn’t guilty of anything they were accusing him of. She couldn’t just throw him under the bus… again. But she also can’t go against Scott and Stiles. She groans, hiding her face in Scott’s arm, “I need a nap,” she replies. Hopefully this response is neutral enough to not warrant any more questions.

The sheriff doesn’t push for any more information, assuming the brunette is just exhausted and frightened after the long night they’ve had.

“What about the janitor?” Scott questions, wanting to know if they found the man’s body.

Sheriff Stilisnki nods apprehensively, “We’re still looking.”

“Did you check under the bleachers? Under them?” The werewolf continues to push for a more solid answer, emphasizing every word.

Noah sighs, “Yeah, Scott, we looked. We pulled them out just like you asked. There’s nothing.”

Fallon closes her eyes as she leans against Stiles. So not only is the Alpha a killer, but he also knows how to cover up his crimes… comforting.

“I’m not making this up,” Scott says defensively, knowing that no one here besides the people next to him believe him.

“I know. I believe you, I do.”

“No, you don’t,” Scott says sadly. “You have this look like you feel bad for me. Like you want to believe me, but I know you don’t.”

“Listen– we’re gonna search this whole school. We’re gonna find him, okay?” He places a hand on Scott’s shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “I promise.”

Fallon isn’t exactly sure how far this promise is going to go. With how many unexplainable things that happened tonight, they’ll be lucky to even find a logical explanation for the werewolf sized holes in the ceiling.

A deputy calls out for Noah, making him sigh. He’s reluctant to leave the three teens to their own devices. He gives them all a strict look, “Stay. All three of you.”

He walks away, leaving the trio to their own devices. Fallon’s blinking becomes much slower, sleep threatening to take over her body. Stiles puffs out a breath of air, “Well, we survived, guys. You know? We outlasted the Alpha.” Scott looks a bit unsure which makes Stiles furrow his eyebrows. “It’s still good, right? Being alive?”

Scott sends them a serious look, “When we were in the chemistry room, he walked right by us. You don’t think that it heard us?” He points out the reality of their situation. “You don’t think it knew exactly where we were?”

“Then why wouldn’t it come after us?” Fallon frowns. “Why would it waste an opportunity to kill? It hasn’t before.”

“It wants me in its pack. But, I think, first… I have to get rid of my old pack.”

Stiles tilts his head, “What do you mean? What old pack?” He asks, confused.

Scott’s face shows nothing but regret and Fallon knows why. She sits up, taking her head off of Stiles’ shoulder. “Us,” she answers. “He means us.”

Stiles looks at Scott, shock covering his face. Their werewolf friend nods morosely. “The Alpha doesn’t want to kill us…” Stiles realizes.

“It wants me to do it,” Scott huffs loudly. “And that’s not even the worst part.”

Stiles’ jaw hits the floor. He groans exhaustedly, “How the holy hell is that not the worst part, Scott?”

“Because when he made me shift… I wanted to do it,” he admits shamefully. “I wanted to kill you. All of you.”

“Y’know, I appreciate the honesty,” Fallon begins. “But I would feel a whole lot better if you kept your murderous thoughts to yourself for the next forty-eight hours,” she squeezes her eyes shut. “Or at least until my headache goes away.”

“Fallon!”

The girl groans and forces her eyes open. Her father is barreling towards her, worry and anger the primary emotions he’s expressing. “Hey dad,” she greets groggily.

“I thought you said you were sleeping over at the Stilinski’s,” he bends down in front of her, checking her more thoroughly than the EMT’s did.

Scott and Stiles hold back their laughter at Michael’s overprotectiveness. Fallon rolls her eyes, “I was,” she defends herself. “But I accidentally left my phone in Mr. Harris’s class after detention and I didn’t realize until we got to his house,” she nods over to Stiles. “So I asked him to take me back and that’s when everything went downhill.”

Her lie is effortless, and it works very well with their situation. She has her phone on her now so it just looks like they found it and we’re on their way out when they got cornered. Scott walked off after seeing Allison, but Stiles just watches in awe. He would’ve believed every word that came out of her mouth if he didn’t live the experience with her.

Michael sighs, seemingly believing the fabrication. He leans forward to kiss her forehead, “All right, kiddo. I think it’s time to get you home.” She nods, letting Stiles and her father help her up. The surgeon nods, silently thanking the paramedics for their help. “You ready?” He asks her.

Fallon nods, “Yeah. I’m probably gonna sleep until I’m dead,” she says gruffly.

Michael cracks a small smile before patting Stiles’ back, “Thank you for taking care of her.”

“Of course Mr. Donovan,” he nods. “Couldn’t let anything bad happen to her, now could I? My life would be pretty boring.”

Michael smiles as his daughter hobbles over to his car, “You and me both, kid.”

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