Derek

The lights across the desert had been much further than Derek had anticipated. He'd cleared miles upon miles of dusty terrain and still hadn't arrived at his destination. He was closer, certainly, but the sun was beginning to rise. Bringing with it scalding temperatures.

Derek had kept moving all night, staying warm by not letting his body rest. His body was exhausted, and he knew the desert sun would be unforgiving. So finding shade was a priority, preferably before mid-day arrived, turning the place into an inferno.

His eyes scanned the flat heath, searching for anything with a good structure. Nothing- wait, no, there was something. It wasn't in the direction of the lights slowly blinking out of existence as the sun rose higher, but it wasn't in the opposite direction either. So it would have to do; he'd rest for the day- drink the water he'd taken from the diner, and hopefully make it to the town by sunup the following day.

Finding a brisk pace again was not as easy as the night before. Derek was hungry, thirsty, and utterly exhausted. The only thing that pushed his tired limbs forward was the prospect of seeing Hope again. Seeing her safe.

The things he'd wished he'd said to her- before all of this happened. It nagged at his mind all night long. But, when Peter was in the car with him, at least he had his complaints to pretend to ignore. Being by yourself makes more room for guilty thoughts- the could have, should have ideas that could drive the sanest person crazy.

He could have told her he loved her. He should have told her he loved her.

Because now he may never get the chance...

Derek shoved the thought behind him with the small cloud of dust he churned up. Being stuck in such a negative mindset wouldn't help anyone. Then, forcing his thoughts to focus, he zeroed in on the little structure about a hundred yards away.

It was a dilapidating little shack. From what Derek could see, there were holes in the roof, but it would still be better than direct exposure to the elements. An unimpressive miracle oasis in Hell-wait, he jumped into a different thought. Is that...?

It was! Derek jogged now, his dirty shirt clinging to his skin as he approached the sight of his glossy, black Camaro. Partially tucked behind the shack, the familiar license plate stood out in stunning relief.

"Please be real..." he whispered hoarsely, remembering just how tricky and disappointing mirages can be when a person is sick with hunger and thirst.

The closer he got, the faster his heart beat in pure, desperate hope.

Before long, he was upon the scene and, with a shaky hand, placed his palm on the car's trunk. He released a sigh of relief. It wasn't a mirage- his car really was here.

In the middle of the desert...alone.

Derek immediately checked the cars' seats to see if the little thief who hijacked his car back at the diner was there. Empty, he realized with a curl of his lip.

Quickly, he spun to look into the shack through the tilted window. He couldn't imagine how many dust storms this thing must have endured.

There, lying on dirty scraps of cloth, was the kid who had stolen his car. Anger rose from the pit of his stomach- his empty stomach. This kid was responsible for not only taking his vehicle but also slowing down his progress of finding Hope. Every second was precious, and he'd taken an entire night's worth.

Derek rounded the corner of the shack and entered, having to duck his head, so he didn't hit it on the doorway. He was just about wake the thief with a shout but stopped halfway toward him. Frowning, he listened and observed for a moment.

The kids breathing was labored- drastically so. Moving closer, he could practically feel the heat coming off of him. He carefully placed a hand closer to his forehead without touching him. A fever. Searching over his body, he stopped short on the wound on his calf. No, two wounds. Two puncture holes side by side- one on his calf, the other on his thigh just above his knee. The skin surrounding the bites was red and swollen, hinting at an infection stirring beneath.

"Hey," Derek shook the kid just as his eyes landed on the dead snake lying rigidly in the corner. Dark and light beige coloring in patches over its body.

A copperhead.

It would have been a slight relief if not for the two bites. Derek knew a little about certain desert animals- and while the copperhead wasn't the most venomous out here, it was aggressive. Two snake bites on a kid who looked barely over fourteen were not promising. He needed a hospital and quickly.

His eyes turned to the paled face below him and growled. His face shifted, letting out a roar that made the shack tremble under its cracked shingles.

The kid's eyes shot open, and he gasped harshly, eyes searching for the danger his body felt was present.

"Eyes on me," Derek demanded, "Why are you stopped here."

His blue eyes widened, obviously taking in the scene of the hairy werewolf face in front of him. The kid's mouth opened and shut like a fish out of water.

"I don't have all day, and you especially don't with those bites. I need to know if there's something wrong with the car."

"No water," the kid finally sputtered through dry lips.

Derek stood, let his face shift to normal, strode out to the car, and lifted the hood. Dry as a bone, he cringed. He quickly took the water jug he'd brought himself to drink. Unscrewing the cap, he quickly poured the contents into the radiator. He licked his dry lips as he watched the only water he had to feed the car. He knew it was necessary- the only way to make getting back to civilization a reasonable task. But it took every ounce of his control not to lap up some of the water and let it cool his throat.

After avoiding temptation, he closed the hood and tossed the jug in the backseat before reaching his arm through the opened driver's window. It took a couple of heartstopping tries to get the engine to start, but when it did, he sighed in relief.

Derek returned to the shack and sighed. If his uncle had found the kid, he might have left him as punishment for taking the car. He hoped that wasn't true, but it was possible for him. Derek wasn't his uncle, though. The kid was baggage he didn't want, but he couldn't leave him to die.

Scooping him up, he avoided his eyes, which were crusty with a sleepless fevered night. It couldn't have been too long since he'd been bitten, but he wasn't going to change it. He settled him into the passenger seat.

"Just...try to hold on," he said gruffly before going around and getting into the driver's seat. He rolled up the windows and cranked the AC.

"Why are you helping me?" the kid asked, sounding more like chewed-up gravel.

Derek glanced over at him as he put the car in drive and started forward.

"What?" he almost spat; what kind of question was that? Couldn't people just say thanks anymore and move on? Okay, maybe he was a little hangry.

As the kid spoke a little louder, he scowled forward, "You're a werewolf. A monster. Monsters don't help people."

Silence stretched between them for a long moment before Derek finally broke it in his tired voice.

"A monster can be anyone, but not everyone is a monster...."

Derek glanced at him again when he became reticent, but he wasn't passed out as he'd feared. Instead, he glared ahead, his messy blonde curls hiding his partial scowl.

"You group of hunters might have only taught you one way to view life, but the world is bigger than that," he sighed, shaking his head, "Maybe you'll remember that the next time you decide to steal a car. Why the hell were you even driving out here? There's no road."

The kid shrugged. "I thought I could cut across and make the drive faster."

Derek growled a little, scoffing, "You took my car on an off-road trip. At night. Through the desert. You're lucky you didn't crash into a cactus or fall off into some hole. Then you'd have no car at all."

"Okay, jeez, you don't have to lecture me. I get it. It was stupid." He flinched then as a bump jostled his injured leg.

Derek side-eyed him. "How long ago did that happen?"

"Early this morning, maybe a little over an hour. The first bite woke me up. Then, when I tried to grab it, the thing bit me again. I didn't even do anything to it."

"Copperheads attack from movement, mostly. You probably moved in your sleep, and it thought you were a threat."

"Oh, great, the dog watches documentaries," he scoffed.

Derek turned his head to the side sharply and glowered down at him. "Call me a dog again, and I'll toss your ass out of the car."

He shut up quickly, but it must have taken an extraordinary effort to bite his tongue.

The town looked maybe fifteen minutes away now that they'd hit a more straightforward path, and Derek was driving at high speeds, expertly guiding his car through occasional cactus roughage.

Still, this was going to be a long drive, Derek thought.