alright. but one of you has to cover my eyes if we actually do see the body.

[ episode 1.01 ]

The Worthington estate, which sat just at the edge of the Beacon Hills preserve, was silent.

Warren Worthington was away, working a late shift at the hospital serving as the on-call surgeon for the night. When not taking a shift in the emergency room, he was the most successful — and busiest — neurosurgeon in Beacon County. The only other resident — other than a cat named Scribbles — of the house was his teenage daughter, Willow Worthington.

The girl that was sitting on the back patio, flipping through a book, was the dictionary definition of a perfect child. Willow got straight A's, had record-breaking times on the cross-country team, and was the head cheerleader. There wasn't a mean bone in the girl's body, who could always be seen with a smile on her face and befriending most everyone in the halls of Beacon Hills High. Lydia Martin may have ruled the school with fear, but Willow Worthington ruled it with her heart.

School was meant to start back the next morning after a month off for winter break, and Willow knew she should be asleep, but a boy in her class, Isaac Lahey, lent her his copy of The Three-Body Problem — a book about aliens that he had recommended. It had quite a surprising twist near the end, and Willow was having trouble putting it down.

It was cold outside, but the lounge with overstuffed cushions was Willow's favorite place to read, so she was bundled up in Jackson Whittemore's old lacrosse sweatshirt from the year before and a scarf that Danny Mahealani's grandmother had knitted. There was also a small fire that she started in their fire pit, which would burn out fairly soon.

Willow's concentration from the book was broken by a sudden sound. At first, she thought it was a page turning, but then realized she hadn't turned any pages. She heard the sound again, this time louder, and identified it as someone dragging their feet through fallen leaves. Knowing that her father wasn't meant to be home for another five hours, she sat up straight and put her book to the side, worried that there was some kind of trespasser. Her phone was clutched tightly in her hand, ready to call Stiles' father, the sheriff.

Whatever caused the disturbance did it again, followed by a thumping sound, like someone had fallen over, and a low, pained groan came after. Willow's eyes scanned the backyard that disappeared into the thick forest. She almost missed it, but the firelight flickered across pale skin — a person.

Willow was frozen, her eyes glued to the slumped-over figure. Though he was half a lacrosse field away, she was pretty sure he wasn't wearing any clothes. She made the assumption that he was either drunk out of his mind or injured, and given that it was nearly freezing outside, her more compassionate side won out over her slight fear.

She rushed into her house and grabbed a first aid kit out of the bottom floor bathroom, also stopping by the laundry room to grab a pair of sweatpants that belonged to her father. He wouldn't miss them as long as they weren't a designer brand. Then Willow ran back outside, where the person was still collapsed.

Her pace slowed as she neared the edge of the forest where he was — and she still had the number for the police department pulled up and ready to dial. The person was a man, she realized, and upon further inspection, saw that he was in fact injured. Long, bloody gashes covered his chest and sides, as well as what looked like a bullet wound.

As Willow awkwardly put the sweatpants on the man, she wondered what could have caused the injuries. The gashes looked like something from an animal, but animals didn't shoot guns. Perhaps he had been out with a group hunting — even though it wasn't permitted on the preserve — and got shot on accident. That didn't explain the naked on a freezing cold night part.

Or was he crazy and had escaped from Eichen House? Was he almost burned alive and driven mad by the memories? That'd certainly explain the horrible burn scars covering half of his body. Maybe she should have called Sheriff Stilinski.

The man didn't wake up until Willow was almost completely done covering his wounds in padded gauze and medical tape. Blue eyes snapped open and he flinched away warily. Willow fell back on her heels and put her hands up, watching him just as cautiously.

"Where—" The man cut himself off, glancing at their surroundings.

"I, um, I just found you passed out," she quickly explained. "It's just it's freezing out and you're hurt."

He looked down at his bandaged torso, a frown on his face. Of course, the bandages were pointless, but the human girl didn't know he'd be fully healed come sunrise. He had run into both a group of hunters and his pesky nephew all while seeking a new potential beta for his pack — a sixteen-year-old asthmatic.

What kind of naive, foolish, teenage girl sees a man covered in blood and tries to help? He had known the girl all of fifteen seconds and knew she was horrible at spotting red flags. Far too naive and foolish to bite.

When the man still didn't speak, Willow awkwardly continued. "Um, I'm almost done patching you up if you want me to finish. But you should definitely still go to the hospital so these don't get infected."

He simply nodded, knowing he wouldn't be going to the hospital. But it'd be even more suspicious if he refused the rest of her help, so he let Willow carefully clean the gash on his chest.

"This'll sting," she warned, prepared to pour some peroxide on it. "You were out cold for the other ones."

Of course, he knew it wouldn't sting nearly as much as actually getting said injuries. It'd feel like a pinch compared to all the pain he'd felt in the past.

"I'm sure I'll manage," he said aloud.

Willow tried not to show how surprised she was at hearing him speak. She was convinced he wouldn't say another word to her other than when he woke up.

"Okay, tough guy," she said, a small smile on her face. She poured the peroxide on his wound, watching it bubble up. True to his word, the man didn't even flinch. Then she started cutting up gauze to fit the size of the gash.

"You look a little young to be a nurse," he commented, studying her. He could see her clearly in the darkness, as opposed to Willow, who was squinting at him through the darkness.

"I'm not. But my dad is a surgeon, and I have lots of friends on the lacrosse team that get hurt a lot. Basic first aid is a must-know," she explained, making conversation. "My name's Willow."

"You probably shouldn't tell strangers covered in blood your name, Willow," he said, an almost amused smile on his lips. "Peter."

"Nice to meet you, Peter," she said, smiling too. "Glad I found you out here. It really would've ruined my first day back at school if I had found your dead body in my backyard tomorrow morning."

"It's very kind of you to help me."

"Of course. No one in your condition should be out, alone and injured in the cold," she told him. Then she smoothed out the tape around the bandage, surveying her work. "There — all patched up. And do you know what the biggest secret to healing is that my father learned in medical school?"

"What?" Peter asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Willow placed a quick kiss to his burned cheek. "No wound truly heals without a kiss to make it better."

Peter grinned at the impossibly sweet girl who had no idea what kind of murderous creature she had just nursed back to health. "I'm sure to make a full recovery now."

"Would you like me to drop you off somewhere? Your house or the hospital? I don't mind," Willow offered. She got to her feet and offered Peter a hand, who took it, only slightly bothered by pain as he stood.

"You're very kind, but no thank you.  I can take a shortcut to my house through the woods," he easily lied. "You've done plenty."

"Alright. But please be more careful in the future," she told him. Then she quickly pulled off her sweatshirt. "And take this. My bandaging skills will be worthless if you die of hypothermia."

Peter could see that she would continue to argue if he didn't take the sweatshirt. He studied the number '37' on the back of it and the last name Whittemore, wondering if it was her last name or perhaps a friend's. And Peter did have to admit that the warmth was welcome as he slipped it on.

"Have a good day at school tomorrow, Willow," Peter told her, somewhat meaning it. "Thank you for helping me."

As Peter disappeared into the woods, Willow wondered if she'd ever see the man again.

And the next morning, as she was rushing out the door to meet Lydia for school, sitting on the welcome mat was a folded-up Beacon Hills Lacrosse sweatshirt.

☽︎

Willow looked immaculate as she stepped out of her pristine white Lexus in an outfit that Lydia Martin had approved three days ago. Leaning towards the more preppy look, Willow was dressed in a white turtle neck with a black sweater vest on top, complete with a pleated white skirt. Her blonde hair was brushed, not a single strand out of place.

Lydia met her on the sidewalk, immediately walking in stride with her as they neared the school. "Word on the street is that we're getting a new girl today."

"That's great," Willow said, grinning. It was rare to get new students at their school, especially in the middle of a year. "Maybe she'll want to try out for cheerleading. Maybe you want to—"

"I am never trying out for cheerleading. Never," Lydia said, an amused smile on her lips. She couldn't count the number of times Willow had tried to recruit her.

As the two girls walked toward the school, they passed two boys, one of which had been attacked and bitten by something in the woods the night before. He had also stumbled upon half of a dead body, which was music to Stiles Stilinski's ears.

"Oh, god, that is freakin' awesome," Stiles said excitedly. "I mean, this is seriously gonna be the best thing that's happened to this town since — since the birth of Lydia Martin."

The boy with a buzz cut watched as Lydia and Willow passed, their pinkies linked as they gossiped.

"Hey, Lydia," Stiles greeted, though Lydia didn't even hear him. "You look... like you're gonna ignore me."

Willow grinned apologetically at him over her shoulder. "Morning, Stiles."

"Willow," he nodded, managing a smile. At least someone knew he and Scott existed. How Willow Worthington even remembered their names, let alone called them her friends, was a mystery to Scott and Stiles. And her knowing his name only fueled the fires of the crush that the latter of the two boys had on her.

As Willow and Lydia walked to their lockers, many people stopped to wave and say hello after not seeing them over the break. Eventually, they had to part, Willow stopping at her locker and Lydia going to hers down the hall. She grabbed her things for first-period English, as well as for algebra, which would follow.

The bell soon rang and the hallways emptied, everyone finding their way to class. Willow took a seat in the front by the window, placing her copy of the book Metamorphosis on her desk, which they had been instructed to read over the break. She glanced outside and spotted a girl around her age sitting on a bench and wondered if that was the new girl Lydia had heard of. Willow couldn't contemplate it for long though, because the teacher began speaking.

"As you all know, there indeed was a body found in the woods last night. And I am sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened. But I am here to tell you that the police have a suspect in custody, which means you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus which is on your desk outlining this semester," Mr. Grover explained.

Willow nodded and glanced down at the syllabus, slipping it in the front of her binder, able to read it through the clear plastic. Mr. Grover gave a short explanation of how the semester would go, mentioning a few books to look forward to. Then he was interrupted by the principal entering with the new girl from outside.

"Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent," he introduced. "Please do your best to make her feel welcome."

Most everyone offered Allison a welcoming smile or wave as Mr. Grover handed her a copy of the syllabus and their book. She ended up taking a seat behind Scott, and Willow watched as he reached back, handing her a pen even though she hadn't asked for one.

Willow simply forgot about it as she turned back to the front of the class. Mr. Grover then instructed them to turn to a specific page and class began.

☽︎

"She's cute," Lydia said, eyeing Allison Argent across the hallway. "We've got to get her before someone else does."

"Be my guest," Willow said, holding out her arm with a small smile on her lips. She followed as Lydia strutted over to the new girl, a determined look in her eyes.

"That jacket is absolutely killer," Lydia complimented. "Where'd you get it?"

Allison glanced down at her outfit for a moment before looking back at them. "My mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco," she explained.

"And you are my new best friend," Lydia said with an impressed smile.

Willow let out a playful scoff, pouting. "How will I ever move on?"

"You'll manage," Lydia said teasingly. Before either girl could actually introduce themselves, they were joined by Lydia's boyfriend. "Hey, Jackson."

Not a second passed before the two were making out, which clearly made Allison uncomfortable.

"I'm Willow," she introduced, pulling her attention from the couple. "That's Lydia and Jackson. And yes, they're always like that."

"Nice to know," Allison said, chuckling. "And it's nice to meet you, Willow. You're in my English and chemistry classes, right?"

"Yup. And French," she added, smiling. Then Lydia and Jackson finally parted. "And they come up for air."

Jackson smirked and nudged Willow's shoulder, who giggled and nudged him back. He then put one arm over Lydia's shoulder and the other around Willow's.

"So," Lydia began, once again focused on Allison, "this weekend, there's a party."

"A party?"

"Yeah, Friday night. You should come," Jackson said, nodding.

"Uh, I can't. It's family night this Friday," Allison told them. Willow was almost sure it was a lie, but she'd never call the girl out and force her to go to a party she didn't want to. "Thanks for asking."

"You sure?" Jackson asked. "Everyone's going after the scrimmage."

"You mean like football?"

Jackson scoffed, as he always did when football was brought up. "Football's a joke in Beacon. The sport here is lacrosse. We've won the state championship for the past three years."

It was true. Football was such a joke that many of the typical sports dynamics were thrown off. For instance, cheerleader tryouts were held in the spring semester alongside lacrosse tryouts, as it was the most important sport to the school.

"Because of a certain team captain," Lydia boasted, smirking proudly at her boyfriend. Then she winked at Willow. "And the most amazing head cheerleader cheering them on."

"Well, we have practice in a few minutes. That is if you don't have anywhere else to be," Jackson offered.

"Well, I was going to—"

"Perfect!" Lydia interrupted, not waiting for an actual answer. "You're coming."

"You get used to them. Promise," Willow whispered, not wanting Allison to be overwhelmed by Lydia and Jackson's combined, intense personalities. They were the very definition of a power couple.

Jackson and Willow parted from the two girls. While Jackson padded up for lacrosse tryouts, Willow changed into athletic shorts and a cropped t-shirt for cheerleading tryouts, which she'd be running alongside their coach. Then she ran out to the field, making sure to wave at Lydia and Allison in the stands.

She also stopped by Scott and Stiles on the way to the circle of stretching girls. "Good luck out there," Willow told them. "Scott, you're totally gonna get first line."

"Thanks!" he said, grinning. She had spent a handful of times with him the summer before trying to help improve his stamina given his asthma. Really, they had only made baby steps, but it was still an improvement.

"You don't gotta lie to him, Willow," Stiles said, chuckling. "We're benchwarmers and we always will be."

"Lungs has worked really hard the last year," Willow insisted, using the nickname she had developed for Scott in middle school. "He could do it."

"Yeah," Scott agreed. "I could!"

"But if you play, I'll have no one to talk to on the bench," Stiles whined. "Are you really gonna do that to your best friend?"

"I can't sit out again. My whole life is sitting on the sidelines. This season, I make first line," he insisted.

"And after you do, I'll buy you a milkshake to celebrate," Willow said, bumping his shoulder with hers. "And Stiles, I'll buy you a benchwarmer milkshake."

"I'll take you up on that offer," Stiles said. "But the first thing we gotta do after tryouts is look for the dead body Scott found last night."

Willow's jaw dropped as she looked at Scott. "You found a dead body?"

"Well, half a dead body," Stiles corrected.

"Yeah. I'm gonna have nightmares for a month," Scott said, grimacing. "We need to go back so I can tell the police exactly where to go. Plus, I dropped my inhaler. My mom will kill me for losing it."

"You can come if you want," Stiles offered excitedly. It wasn't every day the most popular girl in school had time to hang out, and for some reason, he thought a dead body would impress her.

Willow bit her lip, not sure if it was the smartest idea. After all, if someone was dead, then that meant someone or something had killed them. But she figured she'd be safe enough with Scott and Stiles, so she agreed. "Alright. But one of you has to cover my eyes if we actually do see the body."

"This is gonna be so much fun," Stiles said while Scott and Willow shared an amused look at how excited he was by a dead body.

After wishing them luck once more, Willow headed toward the area for cheerleading tryouts. As she passed the bleachers, she was stopped by Matt Daehler and his camera.

"Back to school shot?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course!" she said.

As Matt raised his camera to take pictures, Willow grinned and tilted her head to the side. Then for the second one, she blew a kiss to Matt and the camera.

"Good luck at tryouts, Matt," she called, jogging over to her own coach.

As the girls began warmup exercises, Willow made sure to keep an eye on the lacrosse field. Coach Finstock ended up putting Scott in the goalie position, something he had never done before. Willow worried for him. Sure, she had been all smiles and encouragement around Scott, but even she had her doubts about Scott making first line.

But the strangest thing happened.

Scott was good. He was really good. He caught each ball that was thrown his way. The range on his throws had improved greatly. Not once did he have to take a break when sprinting down the field to catch his breath — rendering the lost inhaler useless.

Willow wouldn't dare say it to the captain's face in fear of hurting his feelings, but Scott was just as good as Jackson. Maybe even better.

How the hell had that happened?

☽︎

"I don't - I don't know what it was. It was like I had all the time in the world to catch the ball," Scott told them.

Willow listened intently as he and Stiles talked about Scott's astounding performance at lacrosse tryouts. They were trekking through the forest, Scott leading them to the supposed body.

"And that's not the only weird thing. I - I can hear stuff I shouldn't be able to hear. Smell things," Scott continued.

"Smell things? Like what?" Stiles asked, sharing a confused look with Willow.

"Like the mint-mojito gum in your pocket," he said, giving Stiles a pointed look. Then he glanced at Willow. "And the tube of strawberry lip gloss in your purse."

"I don't even have any mint-mojito—" Stiles cut himself off as he pulled out a single piece of gum, the wrapper half peeled off. They didn't have to check Willow's bag — she always wore strawberry lip gloss. "So, all this started with a bite?"

"Are you guys trying to pull a fast one on me?" Willow asked, her eyebrows furrowed. "I know I'm very gullible, but still."

"I don't think we're good enough liars to try and trick you," Scott admitted. "Seriously though, what if it's like an infection, like, my body's flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something?"

"Maybe my dad could look you over?" Willow offered. As she did, Scott took her hand and helped her climb over a fallen tree without getting her white skirt dirty. "That way your mom wouldn't find out. I know you don't like worrying her."

"Thanks," Scott said, smiling softly.

"You know what? I actually think I've heard of this," Stiles said, piquing both their interests. "It's a specific kind of infection."

"Are you serious?" Scott asked, growing more worried.

Stiles nodded seriously. "Yeah. Yeah, I think it's called lycanthropy."

Willow put a hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh. Of course, Stiles would make a werewolf joke at a time like this. And of course, it would fly right over Scott's head.

"What's that? Is that bad?" he asked, beginning to panic.

"Oh, yeah, it's the worst. But only once a month," Stiles told him seriously. Then he elbowed Willow, wanting her to play along.

"Once a month?" Scott asked, frowning.

"On the night of the full moon," Stiles stated. Then he and Willow shared a mischievous look before howling in sync. They laughed as Scott rolled his eyes. "Hey, you're the one who heard a wolf howling."

"Hey, there could be something seriously wrong with me," Scott whined.

"I know! You're a werewolf!" Stiles exclaimed before playfully growling. "Okay, obviously I'm kidding. But if you see me in shop class trying to melt all the silver I can find, it's 'cause Friday's a full moon."

"We'll find out what's wrong with you," Willow assured him. "There will be no dying Scott's anytime soon — unless your mom kills you for losing your inhaler and finding a dead body."

Scott nodded while keeping his eyes glued to the forest floor. Clearly, they were at the spot he thought the body was at. However, Stiles couldn't cover Willow's eyes because there wasn't half of a dead body anywhere in sight.

"No, I - I could have sworn this was it. I saw the body, the deer came running. I dropped my inhaler," Scott explained, shaking his head.

"Maybe the killer moved the body," Stiles said, shrugging.

"Why would you say that?" Willow asked, suddenly not feeling very safe. "Why even put that thought in my head?"

"My bad," he mumbled, shrugging.

"If he did, I hope he left my inhaler," Scott said, sighing. "Those things are like eighty bucks."

"I'll buy you a new inhaler, Lungs," Willow told him. "I've got eighty—"

Willow cut herself off when Scott pulled her behind him, the first to see the stranger that had silently approached.

"What are you doing here? Huh?" the man asked angrily. "This is private property."

Willow peered over Scott's shoulder to see a man who was a few years older than them — maybe nineteen or twenty. He was tall with black hair and a scowl fixed on his rather handsome face. His glare was on the boys, and for that Willow was thankful. She'd probably be shaking in her boots if she was on the receiving end of that glare.

"Uh, sorry, man, we didn't know," Stiles mumbled.

"Yeah, we were just looking for something, but uh, forget it," Scott added.

"Oh, actually," Willow spoke up. As she did, she gripped the sleeve of Stiles' hoodie for emotional support. "Have you seen an inhaler lying around?"

The man turned his attention to Willow, hardly getting a glimpse of her considering Scott, who was much taller, was practically shielding her. Then a second later, a small object was flying through the air. Scott caught it with his newfound reflexes, and they all looked at the inhaler in his grasp.

By the time they looked up, the man was already gone. It was like he was never there, and if they didn't have the inhaler as proof, they might have even questioned it.

"All right, come on, I gotta get to work," Scott said, shaking the unsettling encounter off.

"Dude," Stiles said, grabbing Scott's shoulder and stopping him. "That was Derek Hale. You remember, right? He's only like a few years older than us."

"Oh no," Willow muttered, her eyes suddenly swimming with sympathy. She looked back to where the man had been, correct in assuming his age, as she'd known one of his siblings. "His little sister, Cora, was in the grade below us."

"Remember what?" Scott asked, not understanding why Willow and Stiles were so invested with the stranger.

"His family. They all burned to death in a fire, like, ten years ago," Stiles explained.

"Five," Willow corrected.

"I wonder what he's doing back," Scott muttered.

"Hopefully not moving half of dead bodies," Willow said, wrapping her arms around herself. What if he had moved the girl's body? But she quickly shook the thought off. She had no right to assume something so horrible of him. "Come on, Lungs. You've got to get to work."

☽︎

As Friday approached, Stiles' joke about Scott being a werewolf was becoming less of a joke and more of a reality. Of course, Scott was in denial and Willow was none the wiser. She just knew that Scott was getting better and better at lacrosse, making first line, and that he had even scored a date with Allison to Lydia's party. Allison had invited Willow over for a sleepover after the party, where they'd no doubt gossip about Scott until the sun came up.

As Stiles was more and more convinced that Scott was turning into a werewolf, he couldn't tell Willow and risk her getting hurt — not after Scott's freak out where he almost attacked Stiles in his room. So, Willow had no clue that there was a teenage werewolf dancing with Allison who was struggling to control his bloodlust.

Never one to handle alcohol well, the cup in her hand was really just pineapple juice rather than vodka as Willow moved through the crowd. She smiled and waved at people, stopping to congratulate a few of the girls that had been informed they made the cheerleading squad earlier that day before the lacrosse scrimmage. She ended up on the far side of the lawn where there wasn't as much of a crowd. Maybe she could find Stiles or Isaac to dance with if Isaac had even come.

"Worthington!" someone shouted, stumbling over to her. It was Chase Perkins, a senior on the baseball team, and one look at him told Willow that he was completely drunk.

"Hey, Chase," she greeted with a small smile. "Having fun?"

"Totally. But I'd be having more fun if the hottest piece of ass here would dance with me," he said, leaning in close, his words a bit slurred.

Willow, on instinct, leaned back and had to refrain from grimacing. "I don't really feel like dancing right now," she told him, smiling apologetically. "Maybe you should get a glass of water, Chase."

"No water," he said, shaking his head. Chase grabbed her wrist suddenly, holding her tight. "Dance."

"No. Let go, Chase," Willow said, getting annoyed as she tried to pry his hand off her wrist. "You're drunk and you're hurting me."

She let out a yelp as his other hand grabbed her thigh, inching up her dress. "Come on, Worthington, just—"

"Let her go." It was the deep voice of Derek Hale that interrupted them. Willow looked at him over Chase's shoulder with wide, relieved eyes.

Chase had scoffed in annoyance without actually turning around. "Look dude, find your own bitc—" When he did finally turn around, he spotted the tall, intimidating, leather-jacket-wearing man with a steely glare on his face.

Derek took a slow, threatening step toward him. "Let. Her. Go. Or I'll make you."

"Fuck— S - sorry," Chase stuttered out, his hands leaving Willow's body. But he wasn't even apologizing to her. The only reason he did was because Derek was so much bigger. Then he didn't spare her another look as he ran away, not wanting to anger Derek even more.

Willow let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding and leaned back against the side of the house. She nervously glanced at Derek, who was still glaring at Chase's retreating figure. "Um, thank you," she said, feeling very shy as she smoothed her blue dress back down.

Derek's eyes flicked back to her as he studied her, quietly assessing her for any kind of injuries. Other than her red wrist, he saw nothing wrong with her. "It was nothing. Does that kid bother you a lot?"

"Oh no," she said, shaking her head. "Chase, um, he's just drunk. He's not normally like that."

"You shouldn't make excuses for him," he said, a scowl on his face. "And you should go find some friends to be around for the rest of the night."

"Yeah, yeah," she agreed, nodding her head. "Really though, thanks. It was not nothing."

Willow hesitated before turning and moving toward the crowd. She spotted Jackson, Danny, and Lydia, figuring that they were a safe bet. But she did glance over her shoulder at Derek one last time only to see he had disappeared.

As the night went on, it was difficult for Willow to get her knight in shining armor — well, leather — out of her mind. Just two days ago, Stiles was suggesting that he had murdered that girl in the woods, rightfully scaring Willow. But then he had gone and saved her from Chase. That just proved she shouldn't have made such snap judgments about him.

Willow was busy watching Jackson attempt a keg stand, Danny holding up his legs, when Scott ran past quickly. A moment later, Allison followed, calling after him. Considering that Scott was meant to be driving them back to Allison's house at the end of the night, Willow quickly followed, tossing her drink in the trash can.

By the time Willow made it to the front lawn, Allison was standing alone on the sidewalk, watching with a confused face as Scott sped away in his mother's car.

"Did he just leave us?" Willow asked, frowning.

"I have no idea what happened. He just freaked out and ran," Allison said, sighing. "How are we gonna get home?"

"Could you call your mom?" she suggested, shrugging. "Have her pick us up?"

"No way," she said, immediately shaking her head. "She'd sniff out the alcohol being served and chain me up in my room."

"Right. No mom," Willow mumbled. "Well—"

"Allison." For the second time that night, Derek had appeared and interrupted. Both girls turned to look at him, and there was a friendly smile on his face, which contrasted his glare from earlier greatly. "I'm a friend of Scott's. My name's Derek."

Willow narrowed her eyes, more out of confusion than suspicion. Derek wasn't a friend of Scott's. Even if Scott had spoken to him since the first encounter in the woods the other day, two days wasn't enough to consider himself Scott's friend.

"Scott had to go. There was an emergency, but he wanted to make sure you got home alright," Derek said, lying through his perfect teeth.

"Oh, I hope everything is alright," Allison said, frowning. Then she glanced at Willow. "You left your bag of clothes in Lydia's room, right?"

"Yeah. I'll be right back."

Willow glanced once more at Derek before running into Lydia's house. She grabbed her cheer duffel bag that was stuffed with everything she'd need for the night and the following day at Allison's house. Once she returned, Derek led the girls down the block to where his car was parked.

"Wow," Willow said under her breath, admiring the sleek black Camaro. She didn't really know anything about cars but she did know about nice things.

The first few minutes of the car ride were awkward with Allison giving directions every now and then from the back seat. But eventually, she tried to make conversation with Willow to fill the silence.

"Hey, so why didn't you come with a date?" Allison asked. She leaned forward slightly to look at Willow in the front seat. "I heard from Lydia that, like, seven guys asked you."

Willow simply shrugged and fiddled with her dress hem. It was odd to have this conversation in a stranger's car, but Allison didn't know he was a stranger. "I wasn't really interested in any of them. Besides, I don't mind going to parties alone — more time to spend with friends."

"Do you think you'll go to Winter Formal alone too?" she asked, thinking of the dance that was in a month and a half.

"We'll see. If all else fails, I can always go with Stiles," Willow told her. Then she turned around to smirk at Allison. "Or Scott."

Allison scoffed playfully as Willow giggled, and she reached forward to shove her. "Stick with Stiles."

"What? You gonna hunt me down if I don't?" she asked, still giggling. Neither girl noticed how Derek's grip on the wheel tightened at the word 'hunt.'

"We're almost there," Derek spoke up as he turned down Allison's road.

"Great. It's gonna be the next house on the left," Allison explained. And when Derek parked on the curb, Allison smiled at him. "Thanks again."

Allison quickly got out, but Willow remained, staring at Derek. He looked at her expectantly. "Yes?"

"You're not Scott's friend," was all she said.

"No, I'm not," he said, clenching his jaw. "But I heard you two talking about needing a ride. After what happened at the party with that guy, I wasn't comfortable with two girls walking in the dark."

Of course, it was another lie. He just needed an excuse to be around Allison. And it had worked out perfectly, the Argent girl forgetting her jacket in the back seat of his car to lure out Scott with later. He hadn't been counting on Willow being there and recognizing him.

"You could've just said that," Willow told him. Then she glanced out the window, where Allison was waiting. "Thank you for the ride, Derek."

Willow got out of the Camaro and simply told Allison that she was thanking Derek once again. He had pulled away before the girls had even reached the front door.

"Just a warning," Allison said before opening the door. "My parents are kind of..."

"Judgy?" Willow offered with a smile.

"They use the word protective, but yes," she agreed, laughing. "They just never seem to like my friends. But if anyone can win them over, then it's you."

"I accept your challenge," she said. Most adults loved Willow, as she was charming and easy to get along with. She never got into trouble and her grades were perfect. What parent didn't want their child to have a friend like her?

Allison's house was nice, and she gave Willow a quick tour. As they passed by the kitchen, Allison stopped to introduce her to the two grownups leaning against the counter as they talked quietly.

"Mom, Dad. This is my new friend that's staying over," Allison said.

Willow smiled brightly at Allison's parents. Her mother had red hair that was cut fairly short and an intense look in her eyes. Her father had a somewhat kinder look in his eyes with already graying hair and beard.

"Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Argent. I'm Willow Worthington," she introduced while also offering a hand for them to shake. "Thank you so much for welcoming me into your home. It's beautiful."

"Someone was raised with impeccable manners," Mrs. Argent said as Willow shook her husband's hand. "Allison mentioned you're the head cheerleader."

"Yes ma'am. I tried to get this one to try out, but she acted as if I asked her to shave her head," Willow joked, causing both parents to laugh.

"I certainly can't picture her with pompoms in hand," Mr. Argent said. But a gun? Absolutely.

"You can be at the top of the pyramid without me," Allison told her, smiling.

"I need to be heading out to meet with some people, but did you girls enjoy the party?" Mr. Argent asked politely.

"It was a lot of fun. Lydia certainly knows how to host a get-together," Allison told them, leaving out the getting abandoned by Scott and getting a ride home from a stranger.

"Well, I hope the rest of the night continues to be fun. Willow, can I bring your bag up to Allison's room before I go?" Mr. Argent kindly offered.

"Oh, yes. Thank you," she said, shifting the bag strap off her shoulder and handing it to him.

"Sweetie, that looks like a nasty bruise," Mrs. Argent said, spotting Willow's wrist that was already turning from red to purple where Chase had grabbed her.

Willow bit her lip and rubbed her sore wrist. "It's nothing. Some guy just had a killer grip at the party. Didn't want to let go."

"Oh my god," Allison said, immediately worrying about her. "Are you okay? I had no idea."

"It's fine," she assured her, just wanting to forget about Chase. Mr. Argent had returned from Allison's room, a frown appearing as he listened. "Somebody showed up and got him off me. Don't worry."

"But you're just so small," she said, putting her hands on the shorter girl's shoulders.

"What's this young man's name?" Mr. Argent asked, a hard look on his face.

"No, really, it's not a big deal. I appreciate you worrying, but it's not going to be an issue again," Willow told them.

"Well, maybe tomorrow before you go home, Dad and I could show you a few self-defense moves," Allison offered, looking expectantly at her father. "He taught me a few. Then that way you'll at least know how to get out of a guy's hold on your own."

"I don't know. I'm not exactly a fighter," she muttered, looking down at her glittery nails and pretty dress. Willow hated violence of all kinds. She was pretty sure she hadn't even killed a bug before.

"You don't have to be a fighter. But if you can get out of a hold, you can run. And I've seen the trophies in the hallway at school that prove you're an excellent runner," Allison stated.

"I suppose I could try," Willow gave in. "But you should go, Mr. Argent. We've held you up enough. Have a nice night."

"You too. And it's wonderful to meet you, Willow," he said before heading out of the house, making sure to kiss Allison and his wife on their heads as he did.

"Well, I'll leave you girls to it," Mrs. Argent said. "Call if you need anything."

"Bye, Mom," Allison said before dragging Willow up the stairs and to her room.

"Did you actually ask me here to get help unpacking?" Willow asked, looking around the room that was more unopened boxes than actual things.

"No," she said, grinning. Then she toyed with her fingers behind her back. "But I totally wouldn't be opposed if you wanted to help."

Willow smiled and shook her head. "Alright, gimme a box and put on some One Direction. We got a room to finish."

"You know, that Derek guy was kinda cute," Allison said, passing Willow a box of clothes to open. She wiggled her eyebrows mischievously.

Willow groaned and tossed a pillow at Allison, not wanting to talk about anyone like that, especially Derek Hale.

"Seriously. When he opened the car door for you to get in? Sparks," Allison teased.

"You know who else is kinda cute?" Willow asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Do not say Scott," she said, grinning.

"I mean, I was gonna say your dad, but Scott works too—"

"I hate you!" Allison squealed as Willow laughed. "He is no longer giving you self-defense lessons. My mom will."

"If you hate me now, you're gonna want the ground to swallow you whole when Lydia sees him."