i know you're built of compassion, but kate doesn't deserve yours.

[ 2.01 ]

Willow walked through the hospital, her feet carrying her toward the room where Lydia was staying. She had already visited a handful of times over the weekend, bringing Lydia plenty of magazines and some lipstick — in case she got a hot male nurse, of course. This time, she brought a vase full of her favorite flowers.

Stiles was there — he hadn't left — and was stretched out across three chairs in the most uncomfortable looking position as he slept. There was a Get Well Soon balloon tied to his wrist. The boy was talking in his sleep, and his words brought a smile to Willow's lips.

"Ohh, just like that. No, no, you first," Stiles mumbled, puckering his lips. "Me first?"

Lydia's father had come out of the room, spotting the sleeping boy. He turned to Melissa, who was reading over the chart outside of Lydia's room. "He's been here all night?"

Melissa and Willow shared an amused smile. "He's been here all weekend," she told him.

"You're dirty," Stiles mumbled, leaning his head back against the armrest as he kissed in his dream.

Willow giggled and leaned over his face. "Stiles," she called softly.

Stiles' eyes snapped open and he almost had a heart attack seeing Willow's face so close to his. Her lips missed his — still puckered from the dream — by an inch as she kissed his cheek.

"Melissa can probably find you a cot to sleep on that's much more comfortable than these chairs," Willow told him as Stiles slowly sat upright. He twisted his back, the sound of his bones cracking making Willow wince.

"You going in to see Lydia?" he asked her, glancing at the flowers.

"In a little bit. Her dad just came out, so I think she's showering right now," she said, setting the flowers in an empty seat. "I'm gonna grab some Skittles from the vending machine."

"Ooh, Reese's Cups sound good," he said, scrambling out of his seat and following her.

She dug around in her purse until she found a dollar. However, the candy got stuck just before being freed from the vending machine, making her pout.

"Let me see if I have another dollar," Willow mumbled, opening her wallet. Though she couldn't find any bill smaller than a twenty.

"I'll get it," Stiles said, moving in front of the machine. However 'get it' didn't mean he'd use a dollar to push the candy out with another bag. Stiles hit the side of the machine, trying to make the candy fall.

"Stiles, really, it's fine—"

"No, I'll get it," he promised. Stiles grabbed the sides of the vending machine and tried to shake it. Suddenly, the whole thing toppled over. Willow let out a yelp as Stiles grabbed her waist and pulled her back before the machine could crush them.

Willow looked from the broken machine to Stiles, her lips parted in disbelief. Stiles simply rubbed his head awkwardly. "Oops?"

"We have to tell someone," she said, looking down the hall for a nurse.

"No, we don't," he said, dragging her back to their seats to pretend like it never happened. "Then we'll have to pay for it."

"I can afford to pay for it," she reminded him. "Let me find Melissa—"

Willow was cut off by a piercing scream. One that came straight from Lydia's room. Melissa and Mr. Martin booked it to Lydia's room, closely followed by Willow and Stiles.

"What the hell was that?" Melissa asked.

Stiles pushed past them and charged into the bathroom, which hadn't been locked. However, the screaming girl was nowhere to be found. All they saw was the slowly overfilling bathtub, which Melissa turned off.

"Stiles," Willow said, nodding to the open window. The one that Lydia must have escaped out of. "She's gone."

☽︎

Despite Willow's theory — correct one at that — the nurses still had to search every inch of the hospital to make sure Lydia wasn't hiding. They also called the police to try and help find her.

Sheriff Stilinski was rather confused as Melissa explained everything. Willow and Stiles were eavesdropping from a few feet back. "Naked? As in nude?"

"I'm pretty sure they mean the same thing, but, yes, as far as we know, she left here clothing-optional," Melissa stated.

"All right, you checked the whole hospital, right?" he asked.

"Every last corner."

"Nothing suspicious?"

"Nothing. She just took off," she told him again.

Stilinski sighed and looked at the deputy accompanying him. "All right, let's get an APB out on a sixteen-year-old redhead. Any other descriptors?"

Stiles was there in a heartbeat, dragging Willow along. "5'3", green eyes, fair-skinned, and her hair is actually strawberry blonde."

"Is that right?" Stilinski asked, giving his son an unimpressed look.

"Yeah," he said, nodding confidently.

Stilinski grabbed the back of his son's neck and dragged him away. Considering he was still grabbing Willow's wrist, she was dragged along as well. 

"Come here. What the hell are you still doing here?" he asked him.

"Um, providing moral support?" Stiles said, it more of a question than a statement.

"Uh-huh. How 'bout you provide your ass back home, where you should be," he shot back. "Willow, do you need a ride from him?"

"Yes. My father dropped me off," she explained.

Before walking off, Stilinski gave them both a sympathetic look, seeing how upset they were. "We're gonna find her, so don't worry."

☽︎

Stiles and Willow didn't go home, as Sheriff Stilinski instructed. After calling Scott, Stiles managed to swipe the hospital gown that Lydia had been wearing before she ran off. They rushed out to the jeep where Scott was waiting for them. Willow climbed in the back while Stiles got behind the wheel.

"This is the one she was just wearing?" Scott asked as Stiles handed him the hospital gown. It had a spot of blood on it that had bled through her bandages. Then he glanced at their worried faces. "I'm not gonna let anyone hurt her. Not again."

"All right," Stiles said, "just shove the thing in your face and let's find her." He started the jeep and got ready to drive off, but he was startled when the headlights revealed a person in front of them. "Ah!"

It was Allison, who ran around to Scott's window. "What are you doing here? Someone's gonna see us," Scott told her. Two days ago, Chris had found them making out in the car and threatened to kill Scott if they continued to date. They all were quite sure he'd carry out the threat.

"I don't care. She is my best friend, and we need to find her before they do," Allison said.

"I can find her before the cops can," he promised.

"How about before my father does?"

"He knows?" Stiles asked.

Allison nodded, a grim look on her face. "Yeah. I just saw him and three other guys leave my house in two SUVs."

"Search party," Scott mumbled.

"It's more like a hunting party," she corrected.

"Get in," Willow said, reaching over to open the car door for her. As soon as Allison slid in the backseat, Stiles zoomed out of the parking lot, Scott with his head out the window trying to pick up a scent.

"All right, but if she's turning, would they actually kill her?" Stiles asked her, beginning to panic.

"I don't know. They won't tell me anything. Okay, all they say is, we'll talk after Kate's funeral when the others get here," she explained.

"What others?" he asked.

"I don't know, they won't tell me that yet."

Willow bit her lip nervously. Allison wasn't the only one to hear about the so-called "others." The day that Chris picked Willow up to begin her training — she still felt sick at the thought of training to be a hunter — he mentioned it.

There hadn't been much training that day. It was more so he could see where her current skill level and stamina were at. Chris quickly learned that she had little muscle definition and could hardly lift half her own weight. She flinched at loud noises, cowered away when she saw a weapon, and wouldn't even throw a punch at Chris despite both knowing she wouldn't do any harm.

It had hardly been a full sentence, but Chris mumbled something about how she'd get torn apart by someone who was coming if she didn't toughen up. Willow didn't have the guts to ask who he was talking about.

Chris sent her home that night, agreeing that they wouldn't meet again until after Kate's funeral — which Willow would be attending at Allison's request.

"Okay, your family's got some serious communication issues to work on," Stiles muttered. Then he glanced at his passenger seat. "Scott, are we going the right way?"

The werewolf had his head stuck out the window like a dog as he smelled the air, tracking Lydia as best he could. "Take the next right!"

Scott's nose took them all the way to the preserve, deep into the woods until they came across the burned-down Hale house.

"She came here?" Stiles asked, eying it warily. "You sure?"

"Yeah, this is where the scent leads," he stated.

"All right, but has Lydia ever been here?" he asked.

"No way," Willow said, shaking her head. "I can count on one hand the number of times Lydia Martin has set foot in the woods. She wouldn't come all the way out here."

"She's right. And I never brought her either," Allison added.

Stiles nodded and walked ahead to try and find Lydia or clues about her whereabouts. Because they needed to stay in pairs, Willow followed while Allison and Scott stayed behind, whispering about something.

"There are more good people than bad out here looking for her," Willow told Stiles as he searched. "I'm sure by sunrise, Lydia will be safe and warm in bed."

"I hope so," Stiles mumbled. His eyes landed on a thin line that glinted under the moonlight. Willow followed as he got on his knees to inspect it. "Whoa, hey, look at this. You see this? I think it's a tripwire."

Allison had wandered over as well as Stiles fiddled with the wire curiously. Willow heard leaves shifting behind her and spun just in time to see Scott yanked into the air by his ankle. She covered her mouth to stifle her giggle as she watched it happen.

"Stiles," Scott muttered, trying not to grin.

"Yeah, buddy — Oh." Stiles turned to see the predicament that Scott was in.

"Next time you see a tripwire, don't trip it," Scott said.

"Yeah. Noted."

Allison, though amused, stepped forward to try and get Scott down. However, the werewolf's ears picked up on the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. Someone's coming. Hide. Go!" he ordered quietly.

Stiles quickly pulled Willow and Allison behind a tree to hide. A moment later, Chris Argent and the other hunters arrived. Chris knelt down to eye level with Scott, who was looking at him upside down. He didn't look nearly as amused by the situation as the teenagers had been.

"Scott," Chris greeted.

"Mr. Argent."

"How are you doing?"

"Good. You know, just hangin' out." At Scott's horrible joke, Stiles had to pinch Willow to keep her from laughing. "Is this one of yours? It's, uh, good. Nice design. Very constricting."

Chris sighed. "What are you doing out here, Scott?"

"Looking for my friend," he answered honestly.

"Ah, that's right. Lydia's in your group now, isn't she? Part of the clique?" Chris asked, raising an eyebrow. "Is that the word you use? Or is there another way to put it? Part of your pack?"

"Actually, clique sounds about right to me," he said, trying to not be intimidated.

"I hope so. 'Cause I know she's a friend of Allison's and Willow's, and one special circumstance, such as yourself — one, I can handle. Not two."

"No."

"Scott, do you know what a hemicorporectomy is?" he asked, and Willow tensed up, familiar with the medical procedure. She squeezed Allison's hand, hoping that they weren't about to watch one be performed.

"I have a feeling I don't want to," Scott muttered.

"A medical term for amputating somebody at the waist. Cutting them in half. Takes a tremendous amount of strength to cut through tissue and bone like that," he explained. "Let's hope a demonstration never becomes necessary."

Then the hunters were gone, leaving Scott hanging helplessly. The others waited a moment before coming out of hiding.

"You okay?" Allison asked. She was just glad that her father didn't hurt him.

"It's just another life-threatening conversation with your dad," Scott said, chuckling.

"Stiles, help me with this," she said, nodding to the tree where the trigger of the tripwire was mounted.

Willow watched as Scott's claws appeared. In one swift move, he cut the rope and landed easily on his feet, a smirk on his lips.

"Thanks. But I think I got it," he said smugly.

"I thought cats were the ones that always land on their feet," Willow joked, giggling.

Scott laughed and tugged on her ponytail before nodding to the house. "You guys coming?"

As the four of them left for the house, Allison nudged Willow's shoulder, a small smirk on her face. "What?" Willow asked, noticing it.

"Nothing. Just noticed something about you while we were hiding," she said, her eyes trailing from Willow's face to her neck. Her sweater had shifted, revealing her neck and collarbone. "Those weren't there yesterday."

It took a moment for Willow to realize what she meant before she yanked the collar of her sweater back up, a small, embarrassed squeak escaping her lips. Allison was full-on grinning now as Willow tried to hide the hickeys.

"I need to know right now. Everything. Who? When? How long?" Allison fired off one question after another.

"Ally," Willow said shyly, keeping her voice low. "I — not right now. I mean, really, if Lydia found out she wasn't the first person I told, she'd end me."

Allison sighed over dramatically. "Fine. But you're telling us both every little detail as soon as we find her and make sure she's okay."

"Of course," she said. "Now I know to wear a turtle neck or a scarf tomorrow. I didn't even know they were there."

"I honestly don't think I'm gonna be able to get a good night's sleep until I know who it was."

Who it was was Derek. When Willow wasn't at the hospital visiting Lydia, she was at home with the recently made Alpha who was making a habit of climbing in her window.

Willow's cheeks went red as she recalled the last few days. She had gone from someone who knew hardly anything about kissing to someone who was very educated on the topic. It had been a blur of teeth and tongue and Derek's warm, wandering hands as he taught her everything she'd ever need to know.

There hadn't exactly been a conversation about what it was that they were doing, but Willow didn't really care. Not as long as his rough lips were sucking on one spot below her ear that made her melt.

Besides, Peter and Kate were gone. Once they found Lydia, all the drama would die down and they'd have all the time in the world to define their relationship.

☽︎

Willow walked alongside Scott and Stiles toward the school. They had no luck with finding Lydia the night before, but they weren't giving up hope yet. And apparently, she had committed some light grave-robbery last night as well, having dug up a body at the cemetery owned and operated by the Lahey family.

"She ate the liver?" Scott asked in disbelief as Stiles went over the police report he snuck a glance at.

"No, I didn't say she ate it. I just said it was missing," Stiles corrected, determined to defend Lydia. "And you know what? Even if she did, so what? It's the most nutritious part of the body."

"I never ate anyone's liver," Scott mumbled, somewhat disgusted.

"Yeah, right, 'cause when it comes to werewolves, you're a real model of self-control," he shot back. Then he gave a pointed look at Willow, which made Scott wince.

"I forgave Scott for that," Willow stated, hugging her books to her chest. "He feels terrible, and it's mean to keep bringing it up."

Stiles scoffed. "Only time Derek's ever been valid is breaking your arm for that," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Actually, wait - hold on. You're the test case for this, so we should be going over what happened to you."

"What do you mean?" Scott asked him.

"I mean like what was going through your mind when you were turning, you know? What were you drawn to?" he asked.

Scott smiled sheepishly. "Allison."

"Anything else?" Willow asked. She hadn't been clued in until Scott had been a werewolf for a few weeks, so she didn't know what he was like. "Not, like, your mom or the Alpha?"

"Nothing else mattered," he admitted. "But, no, that's good, though, right? 'Cause the night that Lydia was bit, she was with you, Stiles."

Stiles didn't look pleased with the information though. "Yeah, but she was looking for Jackson."

Willow rubbed his arm comfortingly. "Sorry, Benchwarmer."

☽︎

Stiles and Scott's attempt to warn Jackson hadn't gone too well. He wasn't interested in Lydia's whereabouts or her transition into a werewolf and he had completely blown them off.

Unfortunately, school didn't halt for a supernatural crisis. They all filed into the chemistry classroom where Mr. Harris announced a surprise pop quiz. Most everyone groaned as they took their seats, aside from Willow and the few others that remained at the top of the class.

"Morning, Isaac," Willow greeted, sitting next to her lab partner.

"Morning, Willow," he greeted, speaking softly as he always did.

"Are you alright?" she asked, studying his face and frowning. He had a dark bruise around his left eye. Had he been there when Lydia took the liver? Had she hurt him? "Is that from the break-in last night?"

"Oh, uh, no. No," he said, looking down. "L - lacrosse practice got a little rough."

"You all need to be gentler," she told him. Willow reached up to gently brush her fingers over the bruise, making Isaac smile.

"It's not exactly a gentle sport," he reminded her. Then Mr. Harris began handing out the quiz for them to take. "I'm glad you lent me your notes or I wouldn't be prepared for this," Isaac whispered.

"You got this," she assured him, before taking the quiz from Harris with a polite smile.

The room, unfortunately, wasn't silent as everyone began working. Stiles had been incessantly whispering to Scott, not paying attention to his own quiz.

"This is a pop quiz, Mr. Stilinski," Mr. Harris snapped. "If I hear your voice again, I may be tempted to give you detention for the rest of your high school career."

Stiles' jaw dropped as he stared at him. "Can you do that?"

"Well, there it is again. Your voice. Triggering the only impulse I've ever had to strike a student repeatedly and violently. I'll see you at three for detention," he said, earning a scoff from Stiles. Many students snickered as Scott looked back at his friend. "You too, Mr. McCall?"

"No, sir," Scott quickly said.

After Stiles quietened down, everyone continued working. After about fifteen minutes, Jackson stood abruptly, his hand clutched under his nose. Alarmed by the sudden nosebleed, Mr. Harris excused him to go fix it.

It took a moment for Willow to refocus on her quiz, now worried about Jackson. But she only had three more questions left, so she quickly circled the correct answers. She stood and took her quiz up to Mr. Harris to turn it in.

"May I be excused to go check on Jackson?" she asked.

"Of course, Miss Worthington," he told her, glancing at her quiz that he was sure would be a perfect score. "Bring him back once he's cleaned up."

Willow quickly wandered through the hallway and to the nearest boy's bathroom, knowing it's where Jackson would be. Instead of storming in, she cracked the door and knocked lightly to make sure no one else was there.

"Jackson?"

It took a moment for him to respond. "Willow?"

"I'm coming in," she said, doing as such. 

Jackson was spooked, having just spoken with a certain Alpha who had disappeared moments before. But Willow didn't notice how he looked as if he had been talking to someone. Instead, she noticed the black blood oozing from his ears and nose.

"Jackson!" she exclaimed, rushing forward. "Wh - you're bleeding."

"Yeah," he said, his voice shaky.

Willow frantically looked around until she found the paper towel dispenser. After tearing some off and wetting it under the sink, she began wiping the substance off of his skin.

"What's happening to you?" she asked, tears welling in her eyes as more black blood dripped out of him.

Jackson took a deep breath, knowing he should be honest with at least her. "Derek bit me."

Willow's movements froze for a moment as she looked at him with wide eyes. Derek had bit Jackson, one of Willow's closest friends, and hadn't thought to mention it during their blissful weekend together.

"Why are you bleeding?" she asked, recollecting her thoughts. The last time she had seen blood that color was when Derek got shot with wolfsbane, and he had almost died that night. "S - Scott said his bite healed by the next day."

"Derek said something about my body rejecting the bite," was all he said, thinking of the conversation from only a minute ago.

Though Willow didn't know exactly what that entailed, she didn't think it was good. After all, if the body rejected a kidney transplant, it never ended well for the person.

"Y - you're gonna be fine," Willow said, gently cleaning the rest of the blood off him. It seemed the oozing was slowing down. "I know you will be."

Jackson studied her tear-filled eyes and shaky hands before taking them in his to calm her down. "You've always been a terrible liar, Wills."

☽︎

As the school day came to an end, Willow met Allison by their lockers. Both had brought dresses to change into after for the funeral — Chris and Victoria would be picking them up from the parking lot.

"Why would you agree to come to the funeral?" Allison had asked two nights ago. They were talking outside of Lydia's room at the hospital.

"Because you said you wanted a friend there," Willow replied, squeezing her hand comfortingly.

"B - but she kidnapped you. Willow, she tortured you," she said, tears welling in her eyes. "I know you're built of compassion, but Kate doesn't deserve yours."

"I'm not going for Kate. I'm going for you. You still lost someone, Allison, and there's nothing wrong with mourning her. She was your aunt, and there are seventeen years of good and happy memories with her," Willow told her.

Allison nodded and leaned on her shoulder. "I don't deserve a friend like you after what I did."

"Don't say that," she said, frowning. "You were lied to, Allison. Manipulated. Confused. Scared. And none of us, not even Scott, hold that against you."

"Well, I'm not talking to Scott," she said, looking at her fingers. "We broke up."

"No, you didn't," Willow said, a small smile on her lips. "But thankfully, I'm not the one that has to lie to my father about it. You're much better at it than me."

Allison chuckled, knowing she was right. "They haven't said it out loud, but I think my parents would rather I date you than Scott — actually, I know it."

"Well, I am significantly more charming than him," she joked. As if it didn't have anything to do with the fact that she wasn't a werewolf. "You can always tell them you're on a date with me if you need to sneak out to see Scott."

"A solid alibi."

"Nice dresses," Matt Daehler commented, smiling at both the girls.

"Nice camera," Allison told him. She had never actually spoken with the boy.

Before Willow could make an introduction, they overheard two girls across the hall. They were whispering — though not very well — about Allison.

"Not her sister, her aunt. The one who murdered all those people."

"You mean the crazy bitch who killed all those people?"

"Yeah, the fire, all those animal attacks — it was her aunt."

"Are you kidding? I sit next to her in English."

"Find a new seat."

"Allison—" But she was already gone before Willow could stop her. With a sad sigh, Willow closed both of their lockers and leaned against them.

"Long day?" Matt asked, smiling sympathetically.

"Not as long as hers," Willow said. She couldn't imagine the things Allison had overheard all day, and the funeral would be ten times worse. "I don't understand why people can't be kind."

"Like you?" he asked. Then he chuckled. "Trust me, Willow, no one is as nice and kind as you."

"You're nice," she reminded him. "I've got to go, but I'll see you later. Maybe you and Allison can properly meet when she's not as... upset."

☽︎

That wasn't the last time that Matt saw Willow that day. It was later at the funeral.

The press was having a field day, and it was almost impossible to actually get to the graveside setup. Allison clutched Willow's hand incredibly tight, and Chris and Victoria stood on either side of the girls, blocking them — well, Allison — from the cameras flashing. Finally, they made it past the barricade set up by the police and could walk to the grave in peace.

"I knew this was a bad idea," Chris muttered bitterly.

"Well, it wasn't my idea," Victoria said, holding back a scoff.

"I tried telling him, but he insisted on making a point of it."

"Well, if he insisted, then he can deal with this when he gets here," she said, glancing back at the reporters.

"When who gets here?" Allison asked, speaking for the first time since they had been picked up.

"Just sit down, sweetheart," her mother said, leading them toward the chairs.

Allison still didn't let go of Willow as they took their seats. "Thank you," she whispered. "And I'm sorry. I - I didn't know all those reporters would be here. Everyone's going to be asking why you came—"

"I came to support my friend," she told her softly. Then she managed a smile. "Besides, I photograph beautifully, so I don't mind."

If only she knew someone's lens was focused solely on her, as it so often was.

Matt, who had snuck past the police barrier, was crouching down as he tried to not be noticed. It didn't work though, as a hand suddenly covered his camera lens.

An older man, an Argent, stood above him and snatched the camera from his grasp. "This looks expensive," he noted.

"Yeah, nine hundred bucks," Matt muttered. He feared that it was about to be broken.

But the man simply removed the SIM card. "And how expensive is this?" he asked, snapping the object in half.

Then the man made his way over to the grave, stopping in front of Chris to embrace him. "Christopher."

"Gerard," he greeted. For someone seeing his father for the first time in a while, he sure was emotionless.

Gerard then moved on to Victoria, kissing her on the cheek. "I'm so sorry," Victoria told him.

Next, Gerard stood in front of Allison. She only glanced at him, clearly not comfortable around him. Though it didn't seem possible, Allison squeezed Willow's hand even tighter.

"Do you remember me?" he asked Allison. She only nodded the slightest bit. "Considering I haven't seen you since you were three, I don't suppose I can assume you'd call me grandpa. So if it's comfortable, call me Gerard for the time being. But I'd prefer grandpa."

A painfully forced smile was on Allison's face as she nodded once more to him. And then Gerard's cold, beady eyes fell on Willow as he raised a curious eyebrow.

"And who is this young lady?" Gerard asked her. His tone was that of a grandfather meeting his granddaughter's friend, but he still rubbed Willow the wrong way — and that said a lot considering she found ways to get along with Kate even after learning she shot Derek.

"This is Willow Worthington." It was Chris who introduced her, not Allison. "A close friend of Allison's. Kate was rather fond of her as well."

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Argent," Willow said, offering him the hand that Allison wasn't clutching to shake. "Though I wish under different circumstances."

The handshake wasn't painful, but for someone of Gerard's age, he still had a fierce grip. "We've got to work on that handshake, little one."

The nickname made Willow's skin crawl. He made her skin crawl.

A feeling deep inside of Willow told her that the man standing before her would make Peter Hale seem like a golden retriever, and that was a truly horrifying feeling.

☽︎

"Dad!" Willow shouted, pulling the toothbrush out of her mouth as she stared at her phone. Warren stuck his head in the bathroom, sighing in relief when he saw that she wasn't hurt. "Dad! They found Lydia!"

"Oh, thank god," he said, grinning. He walked over to his daughter and kissed her on the top of her head. "We've all been so worried about her. One night this week, we can run dinner over to her and Natalie."

"And then Lydia and I can go to her room to give you two some alone time," Willow said, shooting him a teasing smile before rinsing the toothpaste out of her mouth.

Warren rolled his eyes and lightly shoved her. "There is nothing going on between me and Lydia's mother."

"Sure," she said, giggling. "I'll be sure to tell her you said hello, as I'll probably head over there early before school tomorrow."

"Well, then you'd better warn that new boyfriend that your alarm will be going off earlier than normal."

Willow, who was putting the cap on her toothbrush, froze before glancing at her father out of the corner of her eye. "I don't have a boyfriend, Dad."

"Well, whatever you want to call him, he's very good at climbing the tree outside your window. Really, getting up two stories is impressive. I couldn't have done that in my prime, and I was the quarterback," he went on, a smirk on his face.

Her cheeks were scarlet as she bit her lip nervously. "H - how did you know?"

He raised an amused eyebrow. "Did you forget we have security cameras surrounding the house? By the way, he doesn't have to climb through the window on nights when I'm not home. The front door works fine."

"You're not gonna, like, barge in and demand to know who he is?" she asked nervously, raising an eyebrow.

Warren chuckled and leaned against the doorframe. "Willow, you are sort of a perfect child, so there's not a doubt in my mind that you're being smart and responsible. So how about you just introduce us when you decide you want to call him your boyfriend. Until then, I'll let you enjoy what is likely the only secret you've ever kept from me."

Well, it wasn't the only secret, what with the werewolves and hunters and being kidnapped. But what Warren didn't know wouldn't hurt him — literally.

"Thanks," Willow said, smiling softly. "Night, Dad."

"Good night. Keep me updated on Lydia's condition," he told her.

It took Willow another twenty minutes to get ready for bed, and by then, her father had gone to sleep. With a job as exhausting as his, he was practically a master at falling asleep as soon as he shut his eyes.

She stood in front of the mirrored vanity in her room, brushing her hair into a ponytail, softly humming a One Direction song as she did so. Her eyes glanced down, searching for the scrunchie that she had laid out, only to see it gone.

Suddenly, warm lips gently pressed to her neck, startling her. Willow glanced in the mirror to see Derek behind her, having come through the window. He let his nose brush up the back of her neck, causing a shiver to run down her spine before he used the scrunchie he had swiped to pull her hair up for her.

Willow's cheeks had been red the whole time, shyly watching his reflection in front of her.

"Hello there," Derek finally greeted, wrapping his arms around her waist as she leaned back against his chest. "How was school? Learn anything new?"

"It was fine, but it'll be better now that Lydia is coming back," Willow told him with a smile. Then she turned in his arms and raised an eyebrow as she met his eyes. "And I learned that you bit Jackson."

She wasn't mad, he could see it in her eyes. Willow knew that Jackson wanted to be a werewolf, and Jackson always found a way to get what he wanted. But Derek knew it was one more person for her to worry about — even if he couldn't understand why Willow considered the boy a friend.

"I need a pack, Willow, and Jackson wanted the bite — even after seeing how dangerous it is out there," Derek told her.

Willow frowned as she fiddled with the collar of his black t-shirt. "He... he was bleeding, Derek. Black blood. I saw it. He said you mentioned his body rejecting the bite."

Derek tensed up, a guarded expression taking over.

"Have you seen it before?" she asked, studying him carefully. His nod was barely noticeable. "W - what happened?"

For a moment, his eyes clouded over, likely recalling something he'd rather forget. Something painful. But then it was gone, and his guard was back up. "She died."

Willow took a step back, her eyes welling with tears. "Jackson's not — he can't die."

"Come here," he said, his voice getting softer. Derek hugged her tightly. "I've only seen it once, and it - it was right away. With Jackson, I don't know. It's only just started today. I don't know."

That was all he could say to comfort her. That he didn't know if Jackson would die or not.

"You'll watch over him once it takes, though," Willow said softly, leaning her head on his chest. "You, him, and Scott. Even if you all kind of hate each other, with Allison's scary grandfather in town, I'd maybe be able to worry less if you stuck together."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "You've met Gerard? You need to stay away from him, Willow."

"Kind of hard when I have a standing dinner reservation after my twice-weekly training sessions at the house he's currently staying in," she mumbled.

"Someone's not thrilled about being turned into a warrior," he said, trying to lighten the mood.

"I'm not a warrior, Derek," she said, chuckling. "And Mr. Argent making me lift weights — embarrassingly small weights — and run laps around the neighborhood isn't going to turn me into one."

"You're right. You're not a warrior," Derek said lowly. As he spoke, his hand traveled up her arm, leaving behind goosebumps with his touch. "You're too gentle. Too delicate." Willow's eyes fluttered shut as his lips brushed against her jaw, just under her ear. "Too soft."

The whimper that left Willow's lips was almost inaudible as his teeth scraped against her skin.

"So soft," he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. With one hand cupping the back of her neck, the other brushed her bottom lip with his thumb, parting her lips.

Willow stood on her toes to lean closer, wanting nothing more than for him to kiss her, which he gladly did, claiming her lips with his own. It wasn't long before she felt like she was drowning in his warm hands and strong scent and rough lips.

And Willow was content to drown.