I SCRAMBLE OUT OF THE JEEP quickly and run ahead as Scott carries Erica in his arms, Stiles making sure to stand close by them at all times despite the fact that Scott doesn't need any help.

My breaths are heavy, panicked. Adrenaline pumps though my veins as I burst through the doors of Derek's lair, which looks like something straight out of a horror movie. Steel beams seem to hold it all together, and there's a decaying, abandoned train carriage directly in the centre.

"Derek! Derek?!" I call out to him desperately, eyes searching the dimly lit space for any sign of him.

I feel only relief when I see him emerge from the empty carriage, both confusion and concern creasing otherwise perfect features.

He must be wondering why I'm here.

"Erica—" I utter, trying to catch my breath as I reach out to him, and hold onto his arms to steady myself.

"Something— something's wrong with Erica." As I begin to explain I make an attempt to push him towards the door just as Scott and Stiles come bursting in, and Derek wastes no time springing into action.

"What happened?" The alpha quizzes, hurrying towards them. With minimal effort he takes the blonde beta from Scott's embrace and moves as quickly as he can, taking her into the empty carriage and settling her body down.

"We don't know," Stiles begins to tell him. "It's like she's having a seizure."

Erica appears almost lifeless now as we gather around her. I've never seen anyone die before; I hope this won't be the first time that I do.

"Hold her up." Derek demands, causing Stiles to move her head towards his chest, doing a good job of keeping her in place.

Erica grunts, but her eyes remain closed. Still the simple sound provides a little bit of hope that she can be saved.

"Is she dying?" Stiles questions him, but Derek seems so unsure himself. I wonder if he actually has a clue what he's doing here, or if it's all just a facade.

"She might, I— which is why this is gonna hurt."

I watch on in slight horror as he reaches out and grabs hold of his betas arm, snapping the bone with an ease that causes the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up.

As Erica opens her eyes and begins to scream out in agony, I can't help but to wince at the sight before me. My back slumps against Scott's side, and he places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. It doesn't help as much as I'd like it too.

"You broke her arm!" Stiles is horrified, but I assume it's not something Derek has done simply for the hell of it— he must have a reason.

"It'll trigger the healing process. I still gotta get the venom out." He explains, pausing for a brief second before adding, "This is where it's really gonna hurt."

Suddenly he's digging his claws into her skin, inky-black blood slowly trickling down onto the old, crinkled up newspaper that litters the floor beneath us. Despite the fact that I feel nauseous, I find myself moving forward, closer to Stiles and Erica as she cries out.

I never thought I held the natural instinct to help, but I was beginning to realize that I did. Or maybe my friends were rubbing off on me. Either way, I didn't hate it. It seemed better than being desensitized, which is how I always felt when I was in the midst of my parents chaos.

"It's gonna be okay, Erica," I whisper, swallowing down the uneasiness that begins to stir within me. I hadn't liked a lot of the things she had done, but at the end of it all she was just a teenage girl. Just like me. I took no pleasure in seeing her this way. "You're gonna be okay."

Her cries soon fade out, and it's like relief washes over her as she settles back into Stiles body. He looks at her bewildered, moving the hairs away from her face in a delicate move. I feel a sense of warmth when she settles and smiles up at him, grateful for his help.

"Stiles.. you make a good Batman." I have no idea where the comment comes from, but the smile on my own face grows as I move away and let them have their moment before she passes out.

Derek glances at Scott, then towards me. I hold his gaze, fighting every urge I have to reach out to him, to settle the sadness I'm certain I can see. I can't help but to wonder who's there to make things better for him at the end of the day. Sadly, I think the answer is no one. "I—"

With a quiet sigh I look down at my knees that I'm now pulling up towards my chest, words seemingly escaping me. I'm grateful when Scott finally says his name and motions for them to step away to talk. The moment he's out of sight, I feel like I can breathe normally again.

"What the hell was that?" Stiles takes me by surprise, and I almost look insulted as I glance towards him.

"What are you talking about?" I fake confusion, eyes crinkled as I stand to my feet, desperate to get away.

"That— you and Derek and the weird eye-contact." He keeps his voice low, careful not to wake Erica from her needed rest, but I can hear slight judgment in his tone.

I roll my eyes, playing it off. "You're reading way too much into it, Stiles. I was just making sure he was alright. Jeez, reminded me never to look at anyone again— ever."

"That's clearly not what I meant, but way to be defensive about it." He retorts, and I know he has me sussed. But I'm still going to deny it. "You're my best friend, Cassia. You can tell me if you find someone attractive. Even if that person is Derek Hale."

"I'm not attracted to Derek!" I snap, a little to quickly and I know that even if the werewolf who stands not even fifty feet away from us can hear me, that my heartbeat will only give the truth away regardless of what I say.

The only person I can truly lie to, it seems, is myself.

"Yeah... right," he mumbles, and I can tell that he's in a mood with me but I know it won't last long. It never does.

I ignore him.

Every ounce of my attention is now on Scott and Derek and the conversation that's taking place between them as I stand at the entrance of the carriage and watch on.

"You know who it is." It's not a question, Scott is certain of it now.

Derek sighs, keeping his back to Scott for a moment before he turns to face him, sitting down on a nearby stack of crates. "Jackson."

"You just wanted Erica to confirm it, didn't you?" Scott questions, to which Derek nods in response.

"I'm gonna help you stop him. As part of your pack." The words leave Scott's mouth and it takes me a second to process. I'm just as taken a back as Derek appears to be.

"If you want me in, fine. But we'll do it on one condition. We're gonna catch him, not kill him."

"And?" The older werewolf doesn't seem so convinced, but it seems like he's willing to listen. He needs Scott. And honestly, it was starting to feel like we needed Derek. And his pack.

"And we do it my way." Scott insists, not backing down.

Jackson was a lot of things, but he didn't deserve to die. If there was a way to save him, to stop the person controlling him, then we had to try.

I clear my throat to make my presence known, stepping down onto the floor and into the open space. They both turn to face me, and as I approach I wear an approving smile.

I like this. I like them, us, being on the same side.

"So..." I begin to say, glancing between the two before my eyes settle upon Derek. "Does this mean we're a team now?"

He lets out a breathy laugh, nodding as he tries his best not to smile, but I see the corners of his lips curve as he says, "something like that."

"Temporarily." Scott is quick to add, reminding me that he's still there. He gives me the same look Stiles had just given me ten or so minutes ago.

I hate that they know me so well. Too well.

My lips purse and I nod slowly, trying to act as casual and carefree as I can, when I'm reality I'm screaming on the inside. "Good. That's... good, right? Like a strength in numbers kinda thing. Though I'm pretty sure the two of you have more strength in your pinky fingers than I do my entire body."

It's no exaggeration. I'd seen the way they moved, the way they got obstacles out of their way with minimal strain. If in a life or death situation I was sure I could throw a semi-decent right hook, but I'd yet to find out how much power my fists possessed. For all I know it could be zero.

"Physical strength isn't everything. There are other ways to help." Derek tells me, a softness to his tone that takes me by surprise. "What are you good at?"

"I'm good at pouring coffee." I pause, think it over. "I can also read abnormally fast, though I don't think either will come in useful against a homicidal lizard— unless he needs a caffeine fix."

Scott smiles briefly and shakes his head. "You're good at a lot of things, Cas. Like being a good friend." There's a small pause. "We need you. I need you."

It's comforting to hear— nice to feel like part of the pack. Scott had so many badass people around him, yet he still valued me. That meant more to me than I could ever begin to express.

"Thanks, Scott." The words leave my mouth quietly, my genuine appreciation more than apparent.

He nods. "I'm gonna go check on Stiles and Erica, then we'll get out of here. It's getting late, and I need to go see Allison. Make sure she's okay."

As he walks away, I feel my cheeks begin to burn under Derek Hale's careful gaze. My brain tells me to get away, to follow Scott. But I ignore reason and instead give in to the invisible pull that he's seemed to have over me since the moment we met.

It feels terribly cliche, but I'm drawn to him. Like a moth to a flame, only I'm not stupid. I know I'll get burned.

"Are you okay?" I ask, and by his expression I gather that it's been a while since anyone else has bothered.

"Why wouldn't I be?" He plays it off, arms folding across his chest in an attempt to keep his emotions shielded.

Hesitantly I make my way towards him, sighing as I dare occupy the empty spot beside him on the wooden crates.

As our arms touch ever so slightly, I inhale sharply, aware that I'm doing a terrible job at keeping my nerves at bay. I can't remember the last time someone made me feel this way — like a million tiny butterflies were taking flight in the pit of my stomach. "Because things have been a little crazy lately and your beta almost died."

"I'm fine," he tries to assure me, but I don't believe it.

"Mhm, okay, tough guy... If you say so." Before I can stop myself, I lean closer, giving him a playful nudge as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

When he looks at me, blinking, it's like his green eyes are searching mine for something that I'm completely unaware of— and for a moment it feels like I'm being put under a spell.

It really was unfair just how attractive he was.
I didn't stand a chance.

"Are you?" He returns the question, and my eyes widen.

"Uh... me? I-I guess. It's hard to tell. I kinda do this thing where I repress my emotions until they spill over into a complete nervous breakdown. Maybe ask me again in a few weeks." It's an attempt at humour, but it's not a lie. I didn't have the best coping skills thanks to my parents and the way everything, even the big things, were swept under the rug never to be talked about again.

Stiles thought Jackson could use a few hours of therapy... I probably could too. In fact, I was pretty sure we all could.

"That.. sounds healthy," he chuckles, slowly lowering the defences as he brings his arms back down to his sides, his pinky finger a mere inch away from grazing mine.

If I was brave I would fill the space, but I don't.

"Oh, it's not. At all. But I'm trying to just... focus on staying alive right now." At least for the next few weeks. I didn't want to die before my eighteenth birthday. That would just be tragic.

"You're not going to die," he states like it's a fact, like it's the one thing in all of this that he's actually certain of.

I'm not so sure.

I'm not so sure any of us will make it out alive, but I hope my friends do.

I hope he does.

I open up my mouth to speak, but the illusion is soon shattered when we're interrupted by the sound of Stiles calling out my name. Suddenly it's like reality crashes back down around us and I realize just how far apart we really are despite our currently close proximity.

"Cassia, you ready to go?"

I groan inwardly and close my eyes briefly, relishing in what's left of the moment before nodding my head and painting on a smile. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm coming."

"Scott.." Derek begins, standing to his feet at the same time I do. "I'll be in touch."

I walk towards my friends and I don't have the courage to look back at him. I'm too afraid to be met with the realization that he might not be looking back.