do you let all your friends kiss you like this?

[ 2.02 ]

Lydia walked in between Allison and Willow as the three girls approached the doors to the school. It was the girl's first day back at school since disappearing in the woods for two days. It was also, coincidentally, a full moon.

Scott and Derek both had given Willow a mile-long list of signs to watch out for when around Lydia. If she showed even a hint of aggression or inability to control herself, they wanted Willow to run fast and far while calling one of them for help. But so far, Lydia seemed herself.

"You really don't remember anything?" Allison asked her.

"They called it a fugue state, which is basically a way of saying we have no idea why you can't remember running through the woods naked for two days," Lydia stated, shrugging. "But personally, I don't care. I lost nine pounds."

Willow smiled, glad that Lydia could find a positive way to spin it.

"Are you ready for this?" Allison asked, nodding to the doors.

"Please. It's not like my aunt's a serial killer," she said bluntly.

Allison and Willow watched her strut into the school with her head held high. Willow shot a sympathetic smile at Allison, apologizing for Lydia's lack of tact. Then they followed after the strawberry blonde.

As soon as Lydia stepped foot in the building, everything stopped. Literally. All movement ceased as everyone stopped and turned to look at her with wide, curious eyes. It was like Lydia was some exotic circus animal being heavily scrutinized.

Willow felt a shy pinky wrap around her own. Lydia may not have said it aloud, but she was relieved to at least have Willow and Allison at her side.

Allison leaned over to whisper to her. "Maybe it's the nine pounds."

Lydia took another moment to collect herself before nodding. She plastered a smirk on her face before fully grabbing Willow's hand and pulling her through the hall as she strutted past the watchful eyes.

Then Allison, both wanting to distract Lydia and stir some drama, looked at Willow with a smirk, who didn't spot the look. "Oh, Lydia? Do you notice anything different about Willow's outfit?"

In an instant, Lydia's eyes were on her best friend. She took note of how Willow suddenly found the ground very interesting, but she paid it no mind and instead looked over the outfit.

Willow wore a soft, blue sweater vest with a white turtleneck under it. It was complete with her favorite white pleated skirt, a blue headband, and spotless white sneakers. There was minimal makeup aside from some light blush and her strawberry-scented lipgloss.

"She looks like she always looks," Lydia claimed, now looking at Allison. "Which is adorable."

"Thanks," Willow said, smiling as she rocked back and forth on her feet.

"While sweet Willow often wears turtlenecks or collared shirts under her top layers, I can assure you that it wasn't a fashion choice this morning," Allison said smugly. "I do believe she's trying to hide something."

Lydia acted quicker than a bomb-sniffing dog, pulling Willow to the stairwell with a tight grip. Not a super strong werewolf grip — just a nosy teenage girl one. Her hands were tugging on Willow's collar as the blonde put up with the grabbing and searching. She didn't even care as Lydia practically shoved her head down the turtleneck opening to see how far down they went.

Before she spoke, Lydia took a deep breath to calm herself. Then she dramatically grabbed the sides of Willow's face to make her look at her — even though she already was. "Tell me when. Tell me how long. Tell me how far. But most importantly, tell me who."

"The night of the dance," Willow started. Really, it was the night of being kidnapped and the night they killed an Alpha. "I wanted to wait for you to get out of the hospital to tell you."

"Well, I'm out. So spill!" she snapped, practically shaking with excitement. Allison was grinning to the side, glad that her plan to distract Lydia had worked.

"As for how far, you saw how far when you stuck your face down my shirt," Willow said, giggling. The hickies stopped just below her shoulders and collarbone.

"Who? I gotta know right now," Lydia said. Allison also leaned closer. "Tell me who right now, Willow Worthington."

Willow took a deep breath, hoping they wouldn't get mad — particularly the one that knew he was a werewolf and watched him rip someone's throat out over the weekend.

"I would just like to remind you all that he's not actually a murderer. And he didn't trap us in the school. He was exonerated."

Allison, of course, knew right away and covered her mouth. "My dad's gonna kill him," she whispered to herself. "My dad's gonna cut him in half."

"Derek Hale?" Lydia questioned. As Willow nodded, she tilted her head to think. Then she shrugged. "I guess it's fine since Kate was framing him. But how exactly did that happen considering he's been running from the police for the last month?"

"Well, we had met before it all happened. And I knew he wasn't the one to attack us at the school, but considering I was unconscious, my word didn't hold any weight," she said, only being somewhat truthful.

"What's he even like?" Allison asked. She had only properly met him when he drove them home from the party — watching him get tortured didn't count.

"Around others, especially Scott and Stiles, he's really quiet and broody and stern," she admitted. Then she got a little shy as she smiled at the ground. "But I don't know, he changes when it's just us. He's really sweet and caring. Like, we spent Sunday just laying around, and he just wanted to hear stories about growing up and asked about my interests and favorite color."

"Oh, he so likes you," Lydia said, smirking. She knew first hand that very few boys were interested in talking. "Now spill about the kissing."

Willow's cheeks went red. "He's very good at it. You know how when I read Twilight and kept saying it was ridiculous every time Bella almost passed out from Edward kissing her or touching her? I get it now."

Both Lydia and Allison couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculous analogy. But they did understand what she meant.

"I do recall him being very hot from the wanted posters," Lydia commented.

"He's so handsome," Willow said, sighing dreamily. "His eyes are this beautiful green. And he's so tall and strong that I just want to melt when he holds me."

"Stand up," Lydia commanded after a second of thinking. Willow did so with a confused look on her face. She stood at the base of the stairwell as Lydia studied her. "How tall is Derek exactly?"

Allison got up as well and moved next to Willow. She then held her hand about a foot above Willow's head. But then after a moment of thinking, she raised it an inch or two more. It did look a little ridiculous given how short Willow was.

"That feels right," she said, leaning her head back to spot Allison's hand placement. "Why?"

"He's just so huge, and you're so little," Lydia commented. "That sex must be out of this world."

If Willow's cheeks had been warm before, they were on fire now. Lydia and Allison both smirked as Willow stuttered incomprehensible syllables, trying to figure out what to say.

"We - I don't - he — Lydia!" Willow whined quietly. "We aren't - it's not even been a week."

"Yeah, but it's gonna happen eventually," Lydia told her. "And I will be here when you're ready for plenty of tips in preparation of Hottie Hale deflowering you."

"Don't call it deflowering," Allison said, chuckling. "It's creepy."

"Fine," she said, glancing at her manicure. "I'll make sure you have plenty of cute lingerie for when he finally fucks the shit out of you."

Willow choked on her spit and reached over to cover Lydia's mouth, who clearly didn't care if anyone overheard them. "Lydia!" she hissed. Lydia simply raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow in amusement.

"This is gonna be fun," Lydia said, knowing this was only the tip of the 'flustering Willow' iceberg.

"I - I'm meant to meet Stiles at the morning lacrosse practice," Willow muttered, ready to leave the conversation. "He said he wanted to tell me something."

"Don't do anything to make Derek jealous," Allison said in a mocking tone.

"Or do," Lydia said, smirking. "Jealousy sex is amazing — oh my god, Willow, stop trying to cover my mouth. Fine, jealousy make-outs are amazing."

☽︎

Willow couldn't get away from her best friends fast enough as she booked it to the lacrosse field. Scott was already on the field somewhere, but Stiles was finishing up the straps on his pads as Willow rushed over.

"Morning," she greeted brightly. "Scott doing alright so far with the full moon tonight?"

"Oh, he's fine," Stiles muttered.

"Where is he?" she asked, searching for number eleven. Stiles poked her cheek to face her eyes on the goal. "He hates playing goalie."

"We've got a plan," was all he said. Then he nervously glanced at the other players. "Scott smelled another one."

"Another what?"

"What do you think, Wills? A werewolf."

Willow frowned and then found Jackson in the crowd before pointing to him. "Did you forget the part where Derek bit him?"

Jackson had finally stopped bleeding black blood uncontrollably. His color had also improved, which was a great relief to him, Willow, and Derek. So, it was to be expected that Jackson would be shifting that night once the moon rose. Though the boy made it clear he wouldn't be joining Derek's pack.

"He says it's not coming from Jackson," Stiles told her, shrugging. "But my plan is flawless."

"But the goalie isn't allowed to leave the goal," Willow said, finding a flaw in his plan.

"Just — let me — just — ugh!"

Stiles didn't really say a full sentence as he stomped to the field. He got in a line with the rest of the boys while Willow took a seat on the bench.

Stiles' genius plan, it seemed, was for Scott to rush past the players actually defending the goal and tackle each player before they could even make a shot. And then he not-so-subtly sniffed them. By the time Danny's turn came around, the boys defending the goal just stood to the side, expecting for Scott to rush past. Jackson opted to skip his turn, claiming that his shoulder was hurting him as he took a seat next to Willow on the bench.

"What the hell is wrong with him?" Jackson whispered to Willow.

"I mean, he's failing some things, but I'm working on it with him. He doesn't really like Harry Styles either," Willow listed off. Then Jackson sent her a pointed look, silently requesting that she tell him what he really meant. "He thinks there's another one on the team. You know — a dog."

Jackson rolled his eyes at her inability to say werewolf with others surrounding them. "Scott's a dumbass. He could've just smelled around the locker room once practice is over."

"Well, I know he's not the brightest, but he's trying his best—"

Willow cut herself off when she saw two police officers led by Sheriff Stilinski. Their eyes were set on one player in particular, who was crouching across from Scott, who had just sniffed him.

Isaac Lahey.

Practice halted as they collected the boy. Stiles then pulled Willow over to him and Scott. They both informed her that Isaac was the new werewolf.

"No," Willow said, shaking her head adamantly. "Isaac is not a werewolf. I - I spoke to him yesterday."

"And today, he's a glowing-eyed creature of the night," Stiles told her, his hands on his hips. Then he nodded to Isaac and his father. "What are they talking about?"

"His father's dead," Scott revealed, and Willow stifled a gasp. "They think he was murdered."

"Are they saying he's a suspect?" Stiles asked.

Willow shook her head. Isaac would never kill anyone, not even his own father. The girl had never met Mr. Lahey and she got the impression that he and Isaac didn't get along very much. But even with claws and fangs, Willow refused to believe Isaac was capable of something like murder.

"I'm not sure, why?" Scott asked.

"Because they can lock him in a holding cell for twenty-four hours," he informed them.

"Like, overnight?" Willow asked, her voice raising an octave. "Like, during the full moon?"

Scott grimaced as he nodded. "How good are these holding cells at holding people?" he asked Stiles.

"People? Good. Werewolves? Probably not that good," Stiles muttered.

"Stiles, remember when I said I don't have the urge to maim and kill?"

"Yeah."

"He does."

☽︎

Given that Willow's lab partner was being questioned by the police, and Danny's partner was absent from class, the two sat at a lab table together in chemistry. Scott and Stiles spent the whole class whispering lowly, only turning to tell Willow the important things.

"Wait. Danny," Stiles hissed, leaning back to get his attention. "Where's Jackson?"

"In the principal's office talking to your dad," he answered quietly. He didn't want to be overheard by Mr. Harris.

"What? Why?" he asked.

"He and Isaac live across the street from each other," Willow informed them, biting her lip. "He may have seen something last night."

"We gotta get to the principal's office," Stiles said suddenly, looking back at Scott.

"How?" he asked cluelessly.

"Everyone please turn to page seventy-three—"

Giggles sounded as Mr. Harris stopped talking. A crumbled-up piece of paper had soared through the air and hit him right on the back of his head.

"Who in the hell did that?" Mr. Harris asked angrily as he faced the class.

There was an amused smile on Willow's lips as Scott pointed to Stiles, but it dropped when Stiles' own finger ended up in her face.

"I have never, ever been to the principal's office. I can't believe you two—"

"Shh! Willow, we're trying to listen," Stiles hissed, he and Scott with their ears pressed against the window to the principal's office. Jackson was in there with Sheriff Stilinski, being questioned.

Willow didn't entertain them by listening, knowing Scott would fill her in. She sat with her arms crossed, pouting. The fact that Mr. Harris even believed that she would throw something at him was ridiculous. But then Scott's other hand pointed at Willow as Stiles pointed his other finger at Scott. Willow — because she wasn't a five-year-old — didn't have any fingers pointed.

"Willow, I think I know why Isaac let Derek bite him," Scott said, pulling his head away from the window as he looked at Willow sympathetically. "It sounds like his dad hits him. A lot."

Willow shook her head. But then she thought of how quiet and meek he had become the last few years. She pictured all the cuts and bruises that were from lacrosse — except they weren't from lacrosse because Isaac only saw a little more field time than Stiles did.

"W - why wouldn't Isaac tell anyone?" she asked, glancing at the office. "Why wouldn't Jackson try to help?"

"Because Jackson's a tool," Stiles said, scoffing. "Sounds like they're almost—"

As soon as the door to the office opened, Stiles fumbled for a magazine to hold over his face as if that'd hide him from his father. Stilinski looked from Stiles and then to Willow and Scott, sighing exasperatedly.

"Hi, Scott. Hi, Willow," he greeted, just pretending like Stiles' stupid plan worked.

"H - yeah," Scott stuttered awkwardly while Willow simply waved at Stilinski.

"Boys and young lady," an unsettlingly familiar voice greeted. "Come on in."

Scott, Stiles, and Willow all looked at the man, their new principal. Gerard Argent.

Willow did her best to not fidget as she sat in between Scott and Stiles. Gerard was sitting at the desk across from them, flipping through their files from over the years — Stiles' was significantly bigger given the detentions he had amassed growing up.

"Scott McCall," he started. "Academically not the most accomplished, but I see you have become quite the star athlete. Mr. Stilinski. Oh, perfect grades but little to no extracurriculars. Maybe you should try lacrosse."

"Oh, actually I'm already—"

Stiles didn't even get to finish his thought as Gerard moved back to Scott, thinking the name sounded familiar. "Hold on. McCall. You're the Scott that was dating my granddaughter."

"We were dating but not anymore," Scott said awkwardly. And they called Willow the bad liar. "Not dating, not seeing any of each other or doing anything with each other — At all."

"Relax, Scott, you look like you're about to crack a cyanide pill with your teeth," Gerard said, chuckling.

"Just a hard breakup," he mumbled.

"Oh, that's too bad. You seem like a pretty nice kid to me," Gerard said. Then he picked up the last file and looked at Willow. "Miss Worthington, we meet again. A model student, record-breaking cross country times, head cheerleader, grades that could make a parent cry tears of joy. And not a single mark on your record."

"Principal Argent, really, there's been a mistake," Willow said. Her need to be perfect in school won out over her fear of the man, and she was prepared to beg and plead to not get in trouble. "I would never disrespect a teacher by not raising my hand in class, let alone throwing something at one. Really, I would never, ever do—"

"Calm down," Gerard said, laughing once more. "This little meeting won't be going in your file. I'm sure it was all these boys' fault. You're free to return to class or wait in the hall to return with them."

Stiles and Scott looked at Willow in disbelief as she stood, somehow not getting in trouble. She smoothed out her skirt and smiled at the older man.

"Thank you so much, Principal Argent," she said politely. "I do hope you enjoy working at our school."

If it were anyone else, Stiles would've muttered 'kissass' under his breath, but he knew Willow couldn't let herself be anything other than polite — even with psychopaths who cut werewolves in half with swords.

As Willow exited, she heard Gerard start to speak with them once again.

"Now, boys, I understand the tactic of picking on a girl you like to get her attention, but I'm afraid that won't be very effective with that young lady—"

She didn't hear the rest as she shut the door with a smile. Willow did opt to wait outside for them, knowing Scott would be trying to think of a plan. Soon, both boys came out, Stiles with his head hung low.

"Got detention," Stiles mumbled, looking accusingly at Scott.

"Someone had to get detention," Scott said to defend his action. Then he grabbed Willow's hand to pull her down the hall. "We've gotta find Isaac. Maybe you can stall the Sheriff while I get Isaac free."

The two of them ran out of the school and spotted the police cruiser. In the backseat was Isaac. He turned and saw them just as the car pulled away.

"No," Willow called helplessly, knowing there was nothing they could do now.

Scott sighed in defeat and turned back toward the school. But then another car drove up, stopping where the cruiser had been. It was a familiar Camaro, and he rolled the window down to look at them both.

"Get in," Derek ordered.

"Are you serious?" Scott asked. He also grabbed Willow's arm, stopping her from walking to the car. "You did that. That's your fault."

"I know that," Derek said, trying to control his temper. "Now get in the car and help me."

"No, I've got a better idea. I'm gonna call a lawyer. Because a lawyer might actually have a chance at getting him out before the moon goes up," he argued.

"Not when they do a real search of the house."

"What do you mean?" Willow asked, frowning. What was so bad about Isaac's house?

"Whatever Jackson said to the cops, what's in the house is worse. A lot worse," he told them.

After throwing open the door, Scott gave in and headed to the car with Willow following.

"She's in the front," Derek told Scott, who tried to get in the passenger seat. Scott whined childishly but did crawl in the back seat. Derek didn't want Scott to see him smile lovingly at Willow, so he settled for watching her out of the corner of his eyes, his wandering gaze shielded by his sunglasses.

The car ride to Isaac's house was filled with Scott asking questions and Derek not answering them. As they parked, Willow glanced at Jackson's house. He didn't have anyone to watch him over the full moon to make sure he didn't hurt anyone, but getting Isaac out of jail was a little more important. So, Willow settled with sending Jackson a text that read 'Good luck ♡︎ Please call me if you start to feel the urge to maim and kill more than you regularly do.'

"If Isaac didn't kill his father, who did?" Scott continued to question as they entered the house.

Derek, who was holding a flashlight for Willow's benefit, shook his head. "I don't know yet."

"Then how do you know he's telling the truth?" he asked.

"Isaac wouldn't kill someone," Willow said, her faith in the boy not wavering.

"Because I trust my senses," Derek answered. "And it's a combination of them. Not just your sense of smell."

Willow looked at the ground and snickered while Scott grew embarrassed. "You... saw the lacrosse thing today?"

"Yeah."

"Did it look that bad?" he asked.

Derek smirked as he led him through the rest of the house. "Yeah."

"Well, smell still gets the job done," Scott mumbled. "It told me that Isaac was a werewolf. It told me that Willow reeks of you."

It was impossibly hard for Derek to not react, but they both noticed how red Willow's cheeks became. "We were just in his car, Scott," she said in a pathetic attempt to cover up the truth. "Of course, I smell like him. You probably do too."

"Willow," Scott said, cutting his eyes to her. "It's been days, I just haven't said anything."

"We're friends," she said, shrugging innocently. "Friends spend time together."

"Friends?" Scott questioned doubtfully. He didn't believe her for a second but decided to leave it. "I thought you had better taste than this, at least."

Derek rolled his eyes before shoving Scott in the direction of the basement door. "You wanna learn? Let's start now," he said, getting them back on track.

"What's down there?" Scott asked, peering through the darkness.

"Motive."

"And what am I looking for?" he asked as he walked down the creaking stairs.

"Follow your senses."

Willow stepped to follow Scott down, but Derek gently held her back. She looked up at him, confused as he shook his head.

"Stay up here, please," he said quietly.

"But—"

"Willow," Derek interrupted softly. His thumb grazed her cheek comfortingly. "You don't need to see what's down there."

Hesitantly, Willow nodded. But it only made her worry about how Isaac's father really had been treating him this whole time. As Derek followed Scott down, Willow listened and stayed put. There wasn't much she could see through the darkness. But it seemed they were both standing over something big.

"What happened down here?" she heard Scott ask.

"The kind of thing that leaves an impression. Open it."

Out of Willow's line of sight, Scott slowly opened the old, rusty freezer. With closer inspection, he found bloody scratches lining the interior as if someone had been locked inside. As if Isaac had been locked inside.

Scott was glad Derek had Willow stay upstairs now.

"This is why he said yes to you," Scott realized.

"Everyone wants power," he simply replied.

"If we help you, then you have to stop. You can't just go around turning people into werewolves!" Scott exclaimed.

"I can if they're willing," Derek said, not seeing a problem with what he'd done.

"Did you tell Isaac about the Argents? About being hunted?"

"Yes, and he still asked."

"Then he's an idiot," Scott told him. As if he wasn't standing over a freezer covered in blood.

"And you're the idiot dating Argent's daughter." Scott's expression turned to one of shock when he realized Derek knew about them still dating. Derek smiled smugly. "Yeah. I know your little secret. And if I know, how long do you think it's gonna take for them to find out? You saw what happens to an omega. With me, you learn how to use all of your senses. With me, you learn control. Even on a full moon."

"If I'm with you, I lose her," he said helplessly.

"You're gonna lose her anyway. You know that."

Derek turned to go back upstairs, but Scott stopped him. "Wait. I'm not part of your pack. But I want him out. He's my responsibility too."

"Why? Because he's one of us?" Derek asked, wondering what was in it for Scott.

"Because he's innocent," Scott said. Then his eyes trailed up the stairs to Willow. He couldn't let Isaac get hurt knowing how much she cared about him.

Scott acted quickly, making calls to Stiles and Allison to try and figure out a plan. Not wanting Willow in that house any longer, Derek led her outside, where they'd wait for Stiles.

"So," Derek began, an innocent look in his eyes, "we're friends?"

"Yeah. I've been calling you my friend since you bought me this skirt," Willow stated, fiddling with the hem of the very same white skirt he had replaced after being shot.

Derek slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her closer. "Do you let all your friends kiss you like this?" He leaned down to press his lips to her neck, holding off a smirk at her sharp intake of breath.

"N - no," Willow said, her cheeks heating up.

"No?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You don't sit on Stiles' lap and let him whisper dirty things in your ear?" The way her heart picked up speed and the whimper that left her lips was music to his ears.

"Derek," she said quietly. "Scott could hear you."

"Let him," Derek simply said before leaning down and capturing her lips with his own. As he pulled away, Willow was chasing after him, standing on her toes to try and kiss him once again. "He needs to know that I'm not your friend."

☽︎

Willow sat in the backseat of Stiles' jeep as he and Derek took up the front. They had just parked outside of the police station, and Stiles began to go over the plan to sneak in.

"Okay, now the keys to every cell are in a password-protected lockbox in my father's office. The problem is getting past the front desk," Stiles said. Through the window, they could see Officer Liz manning the front desk.

"I'll distract her," Derek simply said. Before he could open the door, Stiles grabbed him and stopped him.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa - you? You're not going in there," Stiles said. Derek repeatedly looked at Stiles' hand, silently threatening him until he removed it. "I'm taking my hand off."

"I was exonerated," Derek stated.

"You're still a person of interest," Stiles reminded him.

"But he's an innocent person," Willow said, leaning in between their seats. Stiles childishly used his finger to push her forehead back.

"Him? An innocent — Yeah, right!" Stiles scoffed. Then he sighed. "Okay, fine. What's your plan?"

"To distract her," he said, giving him a pointed look.

"Uh-huh. How? By punching her in the face?" Stiles asked. Willow sighed at his antics and leaned back against the headrest.

"By talking to her," Derek said, obviously getting more annoyed.

"Okay, all right. Give me a sample. What are you gonna open with?" Stiles asked. Derek only stared at him. "Dead silence. That should work beautifully. Any other ideas?"

Derek pretended to ponder for a moment. "I'm thinking about punching you in the face."

"Don't punch him in the face. Please?" Willow asked sweetly.

"Fine," Derek grumbled.

The three of them piled out of the jeep, Derek leading them. Stiles and Willow let him enter first and walk up to the front desk while they peeked around the corner.

"Good evening, how can I help - you?" Deputy Liz greeted, hesitating when she saw Derek's face.

"Hi," he greeted, an easy smile on his lips.

"Hi," she said, suddenly feeling nervous.

Willow quickly realized how Derek planned to distract her, and she didn't like it one bit. She knew exactly what it felt like to be the receiving end of his charming smiles and burning gaze. Given how he had her pressed against the side of Isaac's house as he kissed her not half an hour ago, Willow didn't want him looking at any other girl like that. Not even to help Isaac.

"Um, I had a question," Derek went on, seeming to fumble for his words. "Um, sorry I'm a little - a little thrown. I wasn't really expecting someone..."

"Like me?" Deputy Liz asked, raising an eyebrow.

Derek had positioned himself so that the officer was facing away from the door. "Oh, I was gonna say "so incredibly beautiful" but, yeah, I guess that'd be the same thing."

Stiles silently scoffed before grabbing Willow's hand and dragging her further into the station. If he hadn't of, she'd have remained and tortured herself by watching Derek flirt with the woman.

As Stiles broke into his father's office, Willow stood by the door. He fumbled around with the lockbox for a few moments before cursing, finding it empty.

"Someone's already got the keys," Stiles muttered, leading Willow out of the office and through the station.

"Who? The hunter Allison shot?" she asked.

"I don't — oh!" Stiles cut himself off as they turned a corner and ran into an officer. He had some kind of syringe in his mouth. "Uh, just looking, um, for—"

"Stiles," Willow whispered, tugging on his shirt. Her eyes trailed down to the man's leg, which had a broken-off arrow sticking out of it. Stiles' eyes widened and he pulled Willow behind him.

"Oh, shit," he muttered, backing up.

The hunter acted quickly and grabbed Stiles, pulling him into a one-armed chokehold. Then with his other hand, he pointed a gun at Willow, who stifled a scream, not wanting to end up with a bullet in her head. The hunter dragged Stiles back into the holding cell room before throwing him to the ground.

They all quickly noticed that the door to the cell that Isaac was supposed to be locked in was broken wide open. A second later, the hunter standing over Stiles and Willow was tackled to the ground by one very aggressive werewolf. Stiles dragged Willow back into the corner to avoid Isaac's rage. He didn't kill the hunter, but he did knock him unconscious.

The syringe, which must have been filled with a lethal dose of wolfsbane, was suddenly crushed by a heavy boot. Derek came to the rescue just in time, hardly able to assess the scene before a ravenous Isaac was staring down the two humans.

Just as Isaac charged for Willow and Stiles, Derek let out a deafening roar, flashing his red eyes and fangs. Isaac flinched and fell to the ground, cowering in fear. With one howl, Derek had broken through the bloodlust caused by the moon.

"How did you do that?" Stiles asked, glancing from Isaac to Derek.

Derek looked over them, clearly pleased with his ability to keep Isaac in check. "I'm the Alpha."

"Isaac?" Willow called softly. She slowly crawled across the floor toward him, wanting to check on her friend.

"Willow," Derek said sharply. He bent over to grab her shoulder, but she pulled away.

"He's not gonna hurt me," she said. Well, at least, she hoped he wouldn't hurt her.

Derek didn't give her an inch of personal space as she crawled over to Isaac. He was ready to grab her and run at the first sign of aggression.

"Isaac," she tried again. Willow placed a gentle hand on his forearm, guiding it away from his face. Isaac — the real Isaac, not the wolfed-out version — looked back at her, a scared look in his eyes. "Isaac, Derek's gonna get you out of here, okay. Can you get up?"

After a moment, Isaac nodded and shakily got to his feet as Derek helped Willow up.

"Come on," Derek said, nodding to the door.

"Wait," Stiles said, only talking to Willow when he saw her leaving. Then he glanced at the mess and unconscious hunter. "You're just gonna leave me to deal with this all on my own? That's not like you, Wills."

She crossed her arms and tried to not give in. "Stiles, I've already been to the principal's office today. I will not be questioned by the police as well."

☽︎

"I can't believe you know about werewolves."

"I can't believe you are a werewolf."

"That's fair," Isaac said, managing a chuckle.

Derek had taken them back to an abandoned, underground subway station that had long since been shut down. Apparently, it was where he had been staying since the hunters and police began frequently sniffing around his house.

It didn't seem like Isaac was going to lose control, but Derek still didn't trust him to be alone with Willow. It also meant he wasn't going to let her hang around for the remainder of the night. She was allowed to talk with Isaac for just a few minutes before Derek would be taking her home for the night.

"I can bring you any school work you miss," Willow offered. "And I'll help you with anything you don't understand. That way you won't be behind when you come back to school."

"If I go back to school," he muttered half-heartedly. Then he sighed. "You don't... think I killed my dad, do you?"

"Of course, not. And we're gonna find out who did so that you don't have to stay here all the time," she said, looking around the dim and dingy space.

"Do you have a problem with my train station?" Derek asked, raising an eyebrow. He was waiting by the stairs.

"No," Willow quickly said, not wanting to insult the place he was staying. "It's a lovely and not at all depressing lair. Maybe it could use a plant or a throw pillow."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, chuckling. "Let head out. Isaac, don't leave for the rest of the night."

"Okay," Isaac said, nodding to him. "Bye, Willow."

"Goodnight, Isaac," she said, kissing the top of his head before following Derek out. The Camaro was well-hidden so that no one would come across it, and Derek held the passenger side door open for Willow before getting behind the wheel.

"I need you to be careful," Derek told her, gripping the wheel tightly. "If there's someone or something out there killing people at random, I need to know you're safe. Me and Scott or even Allison can protect you, so just promise me you'll not go out on your own."

"I promise," Willow assured him. She already didn't make habits of wandering around on her own at night. The only exception was if her father was working an on-call shift at the emergency room and she was bringing him dinner. "So..."

"So, what?" he asked, glancing at her.

"It's nice to know you find Deputy Liz incredibly beautiful," she mumbled self-consciously.

Willow had been nervously fiddling with her skirt, but Derek reached over with his hand to grab both of hers, stopping the nervous movement. "You know I was just saying all that so that you and Stiles could sneak past," Derek told her. "And you also know that you're the only girl I look at."

"Am I?" she asked doubtfully.

Derek pulled the car over on the side of the road so that he could fully look at her. He reached and pulled her closer, her knees resting on the center console. "Willow, you are so beautiful that it hurts me sometimes. And I will never look at someone like I look at you — feel what I feel for you."

"As far as apologies go, that's a pretty good one," she said, wrapping her arms around him and playing with the hairs at the base of his neck. "You know, you're really beautiful too, Derek Hale."

"Hmm, I usually just get hot," he mused, a smirk on his face.

"I'm serious," she said, grinning as she pressed their foreheads together. "They could put a statue of you in a museum."

Derek leaned forward to peck her lips. "You're too cute for your own good sometimes."

"So I've heard," she joked. Then she returned to her seat in the car, letting Derek continue the drive to her home. He made sure to hold her hand the whole ride.

"You'll keep watching over Isaac, won't you?" Willow asked once they had arrived at her house. "Keep him safe?"

"Of course. He's a part of my pack now," Derek assured her. "That connection runs deeper than any friendship or family bond."

"Good. He needs someone strong to help take care of him," she said, toying with Derek's fingers in her lap. She was almost nervous to ask her next question. "Is — are you planning to get more?"

"I can't have a two-person pack," he told her. Derek didn't go into details, not wanting the conversation to end in a fight. "I can't protect you or Beacon Hills without a strong pack. Especially if what killed Isaac's dad is a real threat. You understand that, right?"

After a moment, Willow nodded. "I do. But just make sure they really do understand how dangerous it is. Not everyone will be like Isaac — will want to get out of a house like that."

"I'll explain everything to them," he promised.

"And don't turn into Peter," she added, looking up at him. "You may be a sour wolf sometimes, but you're not a scary, power-hungry alpha. Don't forget that."

Derek gently kissed her forehead. "You said it yourself — I don't scare you."

Oh, how that'd change in a matter of days.