Chapter Text
January Sophomore Year
Your vision blurred the longer you stared at the piece of paper, wrinkling it in your tight grasp, but you couldn’t pry your eyes away. Not that you really knew what most of the big words on the pathology report meant, but the doctor had dumbed it down enough. Terminal cancer. You felt like you were staring at your own death certificate.
But your face was blank, and your eyes were dry. You had entirely skipped denial, depression, and rage. Or maybe it just hadn’t sunken in yet. Maybe that’s why you kept reading and rereading the tiny professional medical jargon.
You crashed right into a body as you turned the corner, paper flying right out of your hands.
Your crash victim moved quick, steadying you and snatching the paper from the air at the same time. To your surprise, Scott seemed to sniff the air for a second and made a face of disgust.
“I hate it too,” you agreed conversationally, taking the chance to steal your medical report from his hand. He tilted his head at you, “Hospital smell?” You clarified.
“Oh! Yeah, sorry,” he agreed quickly, snapping out of it.
“You’re good,” you dismissed. “I should apologize to you, actually. Walked right into you,” you said self-deprecatingly.
“Don’t worry about it,” he shook his head, “What are you doing here?”
Your face fell and you quickly crumpled the paper into your pocket. “Just visiting.”
Scott looked a little skeptical, but you were desperate to get him off this trail, “Do you usually eat dinner at the hospital?”
He pulled back, confused, but then remembered the takeout bag he was holding, “Oh, no, this is for my mom. She works here.” Scott laughed good-naturedly.
“Right,” you nodded, “She’s a lucky lady, that smells delicious.”
“I’d say thanks, but I hardly did any work,” he smiled awkwardly.
“Still nice,” you shrugged, “shows you care.” You were willing to bet his mom did just as much for him if not ten times more. Your mom wasn’t even home to hear your diagnosis, let alone come to your appointment.
Scott nodded once, and you blinked away your bout of melancholy. “I…
should get going. You have a nice night, Scott.” With that, you sidestepped him and made quickly for the exit.
“You too!” He called out after you.
——————————
You didn’t know why you were out here. Standing on the curb next to the garbage bin. Your entire world had been flipped on its head and yet, you’d done your homework, taken a shower, made yourself dinner, and took out the trash. But life went on. At least for other people.
“You’re dying,” a voice startled you. You looked up from the edge of your driveway to see a stranger- a tall man in a leather jacket with piercing blue eyes that stood out against his dark hair.
“I am” you sighed coolly, unfazed by the stranger after facing your own mortality. Though you were curious how he knew, “What’s it to 'ya?”
“You seem a little young to be so resigned to death,” the man said gently. You couldn’t deny he was handsome, but you had a few questions as to how this conversation came to be and where it was going.
“Resigned or pragmatic?” You sighed. The man raised a brow. “And how'd you know? Am I wearing a big sign that says, cancer kid?”
You saw him bite back a smirk at that, and for whatever reason you felt a hint of satisfaction at making him smile.
“Let’s just say I’ve got good senses,” he shrugged, casually putting his hands in his pockets. The action didn’t fit him, casual seemed the farthest word from describing his strangely electric presence.
“Yeah? What else are your keen senses telling you?”
“You just got out of the shower,” he started. You rolled your eyes, you had wet hair- anyone could have made that guess.
“Well, your eyes are working,” you teased and he gave a mocking sneer.
“Your body wash smells like peonies and you use coconut conditioner,” that gave you pause. Jesus Christ, first you find out you have cancer, and now a stalker?
“When exactly were you in my shower?” You asked, voice a little tighter than before.
Hyperaware of the fact he’d creeped you out, the man tried again, “Your oven timer just went off. Better pull your dinner out before it burns.”
You stared at him in shock, eyebrows furrowed. There was no way for him to know all that. You’d had all the blinds closed for hours and the doors and windows all locked. Unless he was a federal agent who had wiretapped your house, he was something very strange.
“And you left a CD playing- Arctic Monkeys?” You could only blink. What the absolute fuck.
“Keen enough for you?” He taunted. “I’ve got an offer, why don’t you invite me in?”
You knew you shouldn’t, “I make it a point to learn someone’s name before I let them in my house.”
“Derek,” he said. You continued staring until he relented, “Hale.”
With that, you turned and made your way back through the empty garage. “I’ll fix you a plate,” you called over your shoulder. Only then did he start in after you.
——————————
Derek looked from his steaming bowl of mac and cheese back up to you, “You know most people wouldn’t have let a stranger in, even after learning their name.”
“Most people won’t be dead by April,” you said evenly, though your heart rate revealed how upset your own words made you. “If you’re a psycho killer, then at least I’ll go quick. Maybe even make the news.” You sat down with a bowl of your own, and took a big bite.
If Derek was impressed with your attitude or recklessness (he was) it didn’t show.
“But I thought you knew,” you pointed your spoon at him, “that I was dying.”
He shrugged and nodded silently, but it didn’t escape your notice that he was wolfing down the bowl set in front of him. Not so mysterious as to reject free food you supposed.
“How did you know?” His little display had disturbed you somewhat. It was unnatural.
“I can smell it,” he admitted, finally.
You smacked your lips, “What?”
“You smell like death,” Derek met your eyes evenly. You scowled back at him and rose from your seat.
“My, how you charm me,” you snatched his empty bowl and circled the counter to set it in the sink.
“No… normal human would be able to smell it,” he tried to make amends. “And that’s why I’m here, because I’m not normal”
“Clearly.”
“I’ll cut to the chase,” Derek snapped, tired of beating around the bush. He stood and grabbed your half eaten bowl, finishing it before you could even protest. “You don’t have to die.”
“That settles it then, I’ll call up God and-“
He slammed the bowl down on the counter across from you, and you shut up as you saw a crack erupt up its side.
“You think it’s impossible for a human to have known all of that earlier- to have sensed it. And you’re right. I’m not human. I’m a werewolf. And right now I’m asking if you’d like to be one too,” he spoke in hushed tones, as you managed to withhold any disbelieving comments. Frankly, those comments were fleeing your brain as things started clicking in place. How else would he have known all that? How else could he have sensed the cancer present in your body?
“Pros?”
“Your body will heal itself. No more cancer,” everything he said faded away after that. Because you didn’t care about anything else.
“Huh,” you managed to zone back in. “Cons?” There wasn’t even a point in asking. Derek had already won. You had the sneaking suspicion he knew that, too.
He sighed, “I won’t lie to you. The Argent family has been hunting werewolves for centuries. Anyone with me is against them.”
“Argent? Like- Allison Argent?” Derek nearly groaned at the name he’d heard all too much of, “And that lady who committed murder?”
He didn’t quite feel like explaining the truth behind that, “That lady burned down my childhood home just because werewolves lived there. Eight people died. Most of them kids. That’s the kind of people the Argents are.”
Fuck. That was a con.
“Well, good riddance to her,” you shook off the little bout of fear.
Derek smirked, vaguely impressed.
His words still weren’t enough to dissuade you. The diagnosis you received earlier was terminal. Set in stone. But this, you could do something with.
“Not to mention,” Derek winced, “there’s some kind of creature on the loose. I’m hoping to stop it.”
“And you’d like some help?” You shrugged, not particularly offended by the notion that he’d ask something in return.
“Hey,” he laughed a little, “I help you- you help me.”
You couldn’t fight your smirk anymore, having made up your mind. In fact, it was hardly a decision. Offering your wrist, you rolled up the right arm of your sweatshirt, “What’s a little quid pro quo between friends?”
Derek glanced strangely at your extended arm.
“A bite from a werewolf,” you looked back at him, confused, “Did the movies lie?”
He huffed a laugh and shook his head, “You’re just a little eager.”
“Oh, sorry,” you mocked, “should I scream real loud while the big bad wolf attacks me?”
He cut you off by firmly grasping your forearm and sinking his teeth in right below your wrist. You let out a loud screech of pain, and ran for the paper towels by the sink when Derek released you.
Unfurling about twenty, you awkwardly ripped them off as blood rushed from your hand down into the drain. You quickly wrapped your arm, applying pressure to the wound. The cloth grew damp beneath your left hand, and you silently cursed. You should’ve known better than to think it’d be easy.
“Some top tier medical care, there,” Derek teased, wiping at his bloody lips. You silently slid the paper towel roll over with your good hand. He nodded in thanks.
Once you’d calmed down a bit, having replaced the shoddy dressing on your wound, Derek placed his phone in front of you.
“What’s this?” You finally looked up from your arm.
“Put your number in,” he drawled out. You didn’t appreciate being spoken to like you were dumb, but having lost a not insignificant amount of blood you couldn’t find it in yourself to protest. You entered the digits with your left hand then slid his phone back.
“I’ll send you the address of where I want you to meet me tomorrow,” he spoke assuredly.
“Yeah, okay,” you sighed, glancing back to your wound. When you looked up again, he was gone. “Weirdo,” you mumbled.
——————————
The next morning, you woke up feeling better than you had in your entire life. Or at least as long as you could remember. Especially compared to the misery and fatigue that had been plaguing you lately. Symptoms of stage four cancer were a bummer, it was no wonder all you did was school, homework, sleep, and eat. It was actually a wonder you did those.
But this was different. Your second chance. Life anew, your body no longer working against you. The inner urge to run, to dance, move- smile! It was a weight lifted off your chest. You could finally breathe again. You no longer had to just keep muddling through, to focus on surviving day after day. Now… now you were living.
You practically floated around the house getting ready for school. Some cereal for breakfast (you were somehow able to smell the fact that your milk was bad before you even opened the bottle, so you ate it dry). When you took off your makeshift bandage, you found the wound completely gone. Your skin was unmarred, just as it had been the day before. If you didn’t feel so phenomenal, you almost would’ve thought you'd dreamt the interaction.
Instead of the cozy sweaters and jeans that you wore on the daily, you chose to mark the special occasion with a flowy white dress. Ditching your backpack, you put a few necessary notebooks in a tote bag. Grabbing your keys, you happily bounded out of the house.
You weren’t sure you’d ever been happier. So much so, that you actually spoke to people when you arrived at school. After a small social scandal last year, you’d been so anxious that it totally got in the way of you interacting with your classmates. And, more recently, when dizziness and fatigue truly began plaguing you, you couldn’t be bothered. Really, the only times you spoke at school were to answer questions.
So to see you, for once, looking happy to be there instead of like you were wishing the earth would swallow you whole, was a shock to the entire student body. A bright smile graced your face as you happily jaunted across campus.
You received a confused look from a guy you held the door for, “Thanks?”
“Mhmm, have a nice day!” He tilted his head as you practically danced away.
Even someone crashing into you couldn’t deflate your mood. “Sorry!” The freshman girl rushed to pick up the books she dropped.
“Oh, that’s alright,” you crouched at the knees to help her gather her things. She stood before you did, and rushed out another apology.
“I really didn’t mean to! I just wasn’t paying attention and,” you rose slowly, and placed the rest of her books on the stack in her hands.
“Don’t worry about it,” you assured her, “no harm done.”
“Really?!” She asked.
“Really,” you assured her with a smile. “I like your skirt, by the way, I’ll see you around!”
The younger student stared after you with a surprised smile, as did basically the rest of the hallway.
Stiles hadn’t even noticed the commotion as he dug around his locker. Scott’s voice drew his attention, “Who is that?”
He looked up to find the whole hallway staring at the back of a presumably very beautiful young lady. “I don’t know, do you think angels are a supernatural creature we just don't know about?”
Scott’s brow furrowed, “Let’s find out.” He dragged his friend toward the classroom she turned into, the one they were also on their way to.
The two caught the end of your interaction with the English teacher, “I’m superb, thank you for asking. In fact, that’s an understatement.”
“Good news?” Mrs. Monroe laughed lightly at your good mood.
“You might say that,” you laughed.
Scott was stuck staring in the doorway before Stiles pulled him back to their desks. “What’s wrong?”
Scott didn’t bother replying, instead listening to the conversation between you and your desk neighbor. You never talked to people in class, but when Stacy complimented your dress you’d engaged her right away. Now the two of you were talking about sisters and fashion?
“Scott?” Stiles asked him quietly.
“Isn’t something weird about that to you?” Scott asked his friend, nodding in your direction.
“What? That she’s stopped being an uptight, antisocial know-it-all? That’s a win, Scott, and we need wins these days,” he snarked.
Scott only huffed at him, but spent the rest of class staring at the back of your head. He packed up as soon as the bell rang, and was hot on your tail after you sweetly wished Stacy goodbye.
Scott caught up to you when you were halfway down the hallway. As soon as he grabbed your forearm to stop you, he knew.
You turned in an instant, but his eyes were locked on your forearm. The bite wasn’t there anymore, but he knew that it had been.
“Scott? Everything okay?” When he met your eyes, his turned gold. Like Derek’s red ones. This- Derek hadn’t told you.
When he texted you late last night, he told you he’d turned two other people and sent you the address of where you were supposed to meet them. But you got the distinct sense that Scott was not one of the two he’d mentioned.
He growled your name, and you blinked out of the trance.
“Look,” you exhaled, “I have to get to class. Let’s talk after school?” You pulled out of his grasp and rushed away.
Even the looming threat of confrontation wasn’t enough to ruin your mood, and the rest of the day was just as excellent as your morning. Unfortunately for you, Scott blocked your path as you exited after the last bell.
He motioned for you to follow him to a more secluded spot. And soon as you did, he was in your face.
“Really? You let Derek turn you? How could you be so stupid?!”
His instant anger was overwhelming, “I’m sorry?!”
“Do you even know how much danger you’re in?! What a mistake you made?”
Your mood soured at his attitude, “Scott, you don’t know me. And you don’t get to judge me for making a well informed decision- Derek told me everything.”
“And you were still stupid enough to choose this?” He asked, frustrated,
“When your options are live or die, it’s not a choice.” That shut him up. At least long enough for you both to take a breath. His mighty protector act wasn’t impressive to you, not when you’d been fending for yourself for so long.
“Derek threatened you?” He asked, quieter than before, though the thought seemed to make him even angrier.
“No,” you sighed, and he relaxed when he realized you were telling the truth. You shook your head, resigning yourself to the fact that some guy from school would be the first person you confided to about this. "I lied to you at the hospital. I wasn’t paying a visit- I was there for a follow up apppointment. They told me I had three months left to live.”
“Cancer?” His shoulders fell as you nodded your head.
“Look, Derek didn’t tell me about you,” you explained, “and I get the feeling you weren’t given my same choice, so- I’m sorry if youre unhappy with what we are. But you have to understand that for me this is a miracle.”
He nodded bitterly, then spoke up after a moment, “And you have to understand that Derek’s bad news.”
“Scott, I’m not stupid. I know he picked me because I couldn’t say no, but I’m asking you not to judge me for saying yes,” your eyes searched his. You didn’t want to be making enemies already, not on what you would otherwise consider the happiest day of your life.
Scott couldn’t bring himself to reply.
You sighed, “See you around.” With that, you turned and walked to your car. You weren’t quite sure why Scott hated Derek so much, but you figured you could ask when you made it to this super secret werewolf mixer at his hideout.
——————————
Needless to say, when you pulled up to a random ally you were less than impressed. Following Derek's written instructions, you eventually found your way to a dark staircase. You made your way down it, swallowing every ounce of good sense in your body.
“You know, Derek, as appropriately creepy as I find this hovel, wouldn’t you rather stay somewhere more comfortable? Like a Hilton?”
Taking two steps into the damp space, you barreled on, “ Maybe a motel six?”
“Derek?” You called melodically into the dark space.
“You’re late,” his gruff voice sounded from behind you, and you squeaked.
You spun toward him, thoroughly startled, “God!” Derek only rolled his eyes.
“Follow me,” you did so without protest, although you found the abadoned train car he lead you into strange.
A call of your name drew your attention, and you found your lab partner. Just like that, your good mood returned. “Erica?” She stood and walked your way, “Geez, you look great!”
“Aw, thanks!” She grinned wide, “So do you!”
“Thank you!” You smiled back, “You know it’s such a coincidence seeing you here, I’ve been meaning to text you about-”
Just as the two of you were about to really chat, Derek cut you off, “Stop.” You both heeded the command, though you sent each other quick looks. “You’re not here to gab.”
“So this isn’t your attempt at a social mixer?” You leaned toward Erica conspiratorily, “Now I can’t shit on his decorating skills.”
You heard a snort, “You definitely still should.” At that, you grinned and found another of your classmates staring at you from across the car. It took you a second to recognize him, since he looked like Derek Jr. But after a second, you placed Isaac from the same science class you shared with Erica.
Just as you opened your mouth to reply, Derek beat you to it, “All of you- sit down and be quiet. Since you joined my pack, you need to know the basics. Think of this as Werewolf 101.”
“You think he rehearsed that?” Erica and Isaac snickered from seats on either side of you, and Derek glared. He would certainly have his hands full.
———————————————
You and Erica were lucky enough to head out once Derek finished lecturing and refused to answer any more of your many, many questions. As you found out at the pack meeting, however, Isaac was a fugitive of the law, since they thought he killed his dad. The police didn’t know what Derek did, that some other creature had mauled the older man. As a result, Derek refused to let Isaac go outside. He griped about being forced to stay in the dingy cave.
Derek had also shared his plans to turn more people, and wanted to know if the three of you had any suggestions. After a confusing and mildly awkward conversation about Scott’s pack alliance, or lack thereof, you assured Derek that you had only moved here last year and just didn’t talk to people. Isaac told him he’d lived here his whole life and still just didn’t talk to people, which earned a grin from you. Erica had thrown out a name you recognized from your AP World History class, a tall, but reserved boy who sat in the back. As the last order of business, Derek said he’d track him down and make him the offer.
And apparently it had gone over well
come to ice rink to meet new beta
You saw the text about forty five minutes after it had been sent in the group chat. Erica had sent an insant “on my way” and Isaac didn’t bother replying since he was already with Derek. You, however, had been making up the exam you missed during your diagnosis appointment and the teacher held on to your phone during it. You cursed yourself and rushed to your car. Momentarily, you were concerned about missing class, but then you decided you didn’t give a shit. What was a second chance if you wasted it worrying about skipping school?
Deciding you were already late, you figured you might as well stop to grab everyone something. Since you tested right through your lunch period, you were starving. You hit a drive through then booked it to the rink. Rushing in, you made it just in time to catch Scott doubled over, walking off the ice.
You gaped at him, and he didn’t bother acknowledging you through his pain.
“I feel like I missed something,” you called, seeing Erica and Isaac wiped out on the ice.
“You’re late,” Derek seethed, “Again.”
“But I brought treats this time to make up for it,” you smiled, and held up a carton holding four milkshakes. Erica and Isaac perked right up and made their way over, with Derek and Boyd close behind.
“I figured you were a mint chocolate chip man,” you held one out for Isaac, and he started on it right away. He’d been texting the group chat (the one without Derek) about Derek depriving him of good food.
“Strawberry for you,” Erica beamed, and took hers happily. You turned to Boyd, then.
“Since we haven’t really talked I figured I’d just get you my favorite flavor and hope you have good taste,” you handed him a cup.
“Oreo?” Boyd looked at you skeptically.
You smiled and nodded, “We’ll get along just fine.” He gladly took the shake from your hand.
“And vanilla for Derek!” You announced, holding out the final cup.
He sent you a questioning glance.
“I didn’t know if werewolves could have chocolate,” you admitted quietly. “You know, because dogs-“
“We’re not allergic to chocolate,” Derek levelled you with a glare.
“Thank God,” Isaac said, “I’m halfway done with this thing.”
“Technically, chocolate is poisonus to dogs, they’re not allergic,” Boyd corrected Derek, taking a sip of his milkshake and earning himself a glare too.
“So... is this the social mixer?” You asked. With a reluctant grunt, Derek nodded and gestured toward the bleachers.