Derek

"Remind me why we're in Texas?" Peter Hale asked from the passenger seat of Derek's sleek black Camaro that tore through the desert highway. Peter glanced out the tinted windows. "All that's missing is tumbleweeds and- oh, no, there's one," he said as a collection of brambles bounced gracefully across the dusty horizon.

Derek let out a hoarse sigh, eyes flitting over at him before looking ahead again. "Hope said there was a diner in this area where she first saw the hunters. The motel we passed a while back was where they'd tracked her...."

"The one with the bullet holes and crime scene tape?" Peter asked, looking over at him with a raised brow.

"Yes."

"That's comforting."

Peter clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Look, believe me when I say I am happy you have had your true love's first kiss moment, but," he looked over at him, "I have to ask. Is she really worth this?"

Derek could feel his eyes burning into the right side of his face. His knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Remaining silent. His question rings in his head. Like when someone chimes a bell too close to your ear and your forehead seems to vibrate.

"Hear me out." Peter continued slowly, taking note of his stiffening posture and that brooding forehead of his scrunching even further together. He knew he had to tread carefully. "I'm not saying she isn't worth anything. I'm asking if she is worth...this. Because this is not a simple disgruntled wolf that has taken your girl. No, this is Hope Mikaelson. She has not only been taken by not one of, but the most dangerous group of hunters on this side of the hemisphere, and to top it off, she's the daughter of the Original Hybrid." He sighed, shaking his head, "Of course, you of all people would choose a girl who is the offspring of the most ruthless vampire family in the world."

"What's your point?" Derek finally met his eyes.

"My point?" He asked, raising a brow. "My point is that this can go one of two ways. Either you can't save her, and you die in the process, or you do save her and permanently have a mark on your back from all enemies she and her family have. Including the hunters that took her."

Derek sighed and turned his attention to the road, silent for a long minute. He knew he was right. He understood this wasn't a simple rescue mission with a happily ever after. There would likely not be a happy ending, whichever this way goes, but he still had to try.

"She's worth it." Was his final response.

Derek didn't explain why; he didn't speak another word. He didn't have to. He knew Hope was worth every bit of danger he put himself in. She wasn't just some stray wolf he'd lusted for in a bar. This was different. She was different.

Derek had dreamt about her.

Weeks ago, prior to Hope arriving in Beacon Hills, he'd woken with a startling nightmare. A woman with dark hair and a heart-shaped face lay dead on the ground. Her blood soaking the earth.

Derek had screamed for her, pleaded with her corpse to draw light back into her deadened eyes that simply stared back at him. He hadn't known who she was. He had never seen her before, but he knew...he loved her. He'd never felt love like that. Never before had he experienced an emotion so raw as it was to lose her in that dream. A woman he didn't even know.

Then she arrived one day, and it took everything within himself not to revisit that nightmare. He did everything he could to stay away, but the urge to know she was safe...to know she wouldn't suffer as she had in his dream was too strong to keep him away for long. He cringed inwardly as he thought about the first time he saw her.

She was in the parking lot of the grocery store talking to Stiles, and she was hiding something.

Initially, his interest had peaked just by seeing her. The woman he didn't know, who lay dying in his arms, was standing within walking distance. Then, however, the glimpse of something suspicious hiding in the back of her car had convinced him he should inspect it a little more closely.

Derek cringed at himself as he remembered watching her through her window from the woods. Never taking his eyes off her. Until she caught him, of course.

He'd like to say the only reason he was watching her was to ensure she was safe. That she wasn't in danger of bringing his nightmare into reality, but that wasn't the only reason.

He had a deep fascination with her. Suddenly he sounded like a sparkly vampire with stalker syndrome.

Derek grumbled to himself but stopped a moment after as he noticed a sign in the distance. It marked the location of the diner he'd been searching for. He narrowed his eyes as the small building grew closer.

"This is it." He nodded to it, pulling into the little area of pale, cracked pavement. The heat out here hadn't done the building or landscape many favors. It was bone dry. If he'd had to take a guess, it didn't receive any outside visitors. Ultimately making it a perfect gathering spot for hunters. They'd be able to talk freely without fear of passerby glances. Hope would have stuck out like a sore thumb if she had stopped here.

Derek parked between faded yellow lines and glanced over at Peter, who had leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

"Good luck." He said as he shifted to get more comfortable in his chair.

Staring at him with intense eyes until he finally looked over, Peter let out a big sigh. "I swear if you get me killed, I'm haunting your ass."

Derek cracked a smirk and stepped out of the car, covered in dark red dust, and entered the little diner. Shoulders squared, biceps bulging from the black t-shirt he had on, brows pulled into a scowl.

He was ready for a fight.

Looking around, he lost his scowl. The diner was empty. In fact, it appeared no one had been here for quite some time. Moving forward, Derek checked the bar and frowned. Crumbs and spilled coffee had stained the countertops, mold beginning to fester uneaten food, and gnats basking in the decomposing food.

Peter walked between the booths and furrowed his brow, seeing the same scene on a couple of the tables. Uneaten food, spilled drinks, and a gnat infestation.

"Guess they left in a hurry," Peter muttered.

Derek nodded. "And never came back," he added.

A clang of metal sounded in the back, catching their attention and drawing their eye to the staff door that must lead to the kitchen. Narrowing their eyes, they shared a glance and carefully proceeded forward. They opened the swinging door, its hinges squeaking, likely alerting anyone inside there was an intruder. They stepped into the kitchen just as a shimmer of silver glided through the air. The whistle in the air followed with a hollow thud as the knife sank into the door. Inches in front of Peter's nose. Neither Derek nor Peter moved from their position, though their eyes had widened, brows raised.

"I'm warning you!" A shout came from behind a metal dish crate. The voice sounded young, scared.

Peter sighed and grabbed the knife handle, tearing it from the door. He gave a little shrug, looking at the blade thoughtfully.

"Nice throw."

Derek rolled his eyes and moved forward. His gold eyes were sharper than the knife as he rounded the corner, claws out, ready to gather the necessary information. A growl had begun to grow in his throat as he looked down at the man squatting on the ground behind a collection of flour bags, but it dissipated when he caught a complete look at not a man but a boy.

Thirteen or fourteen, maybe? Disheveled dark hair, dirty clothes, and light eyes set into a scowl, not successfully hiding the fear he obviously felt. Derek could hear his pulse going berserk under his skin. He was human, he could tell, but what was he doing here?

Sighing in frustration, he drew his claws back in. He'd been looking for someone from whom he could quickly get information, through torture if necessary. But unfortunately, this kid was not what he was expecting.

"Stay away!" The kid lunged at Derek with a box cutter, missing him by just a hair as Derek stepped back.

"Aw," Peter said, stepping around the corner with a smirk, "It's so cute."

The kid glared and threw the box cutter at him with precision. Which he caught, a little too late, because it nicked the tail of his brow.

"Hm..." Peter's expression of amusement disappeared as he took a step toward him but was grabbed by Derek's firm hand.

"He's a kid..." he started- a door opened and closed. He looked up to see he had darted out the back entrance.

"Yeah," Peter said with a smirk, "He's a kid who might have the only information you need."

Derek growled and let his uncle go, chasing after him. He knew he couldn't have gotten far, but when he slammed out the back entrance, he saw nothing but dirt in the stretch of land behind the diner. Where could the kid have- Derek wondered as he scanned the area. A dumpster sat a good twenty feet diagonal of where he stood. Derek's gaze turned to the sky, puffing out a sigh. He didn't want to go dumpster diving.

Starting toward the container, Peter walked out the back door, hands nonchalantly in his pockets as he followed in his footsteps.

"Well, this is an interesting turn of events...."

"Shut up," Derek grumbled, walking to the dumpster. Then, grabbing the top, he lifted it open.

Buzzing blow flies scattered out in a wave of nauseating fumes.

They both jumped back in disgust. Derek coughed into the crook of his arm and blinked, trying to clear his eyes of the decomposing dust flung into the air.

When he'd composed himself, he peeked over the dumpster's edge. The kid wasn't there, but there were rotting corpses piled in a heap.

"Hunters," Derek nodded and coughed again. "They've been dead for a while."

"Okay, but because of who?" Peter questioned.

Derek shook his head, and just as he was about to speak, the sound of a car engine revving up stopped him cold. They shared a horrified look and took off sprinting around the diner to the front, but it was too late. His black Camaro was already spinning dust out of the parking lot and down the road, leaving a cloud of red behind. All they could do was stare as the one form of transportation they had disappeared.

Peter started to open his mouth to say something, but Derek cut him off.

"Don't. Talk."

They stood there for the next five minutes before retreating to the diner, where there would be shade at least. After that, they would have to start devising a new plan.

One where they weren't outsmarted by a fourteen-year-old.