I woke to meet the worried, anxious eyes of Derek, standing above me. Immediately, his face relaxed when he saw I was awake. The relief softened his features.

"Are you okay?" he asked, "Or is that a dumb question?" He tried for a smile, but couldn't quite make it.

I looked around. I was in my room, the one in Jameson's house. The drapes were drawn, but light seeped in through the edges. I guessed it must be midday.

"I'm okay," I replied, stretching.

A sharp, stabbing pain in my chest told me otherwise. I gasped and put a hand to my ribs. Doubt flickered beneath Derek's eyes.

"I'm fine," I repeated, more emphasis this time. "Just sore."

He still looked wary. I sat up slowly, to prove my point, biting my tongue to keep from crying out. Maybe I was more than a little sore.

"Careful," he cautioned. "You were hurt pretty badly."

"You're telling me," I muttered darkly.

A relieved grin spread across his face, truly genuine now. He looked awful. His blonde, wavy hair was disheveled as if he had been running his hands through it. There were dark circles under his eyes that contrasted with his naturally tan complexion. He was definitely in need of a hot meal and a long rest. Suddenly it dawned on me that I don't know how long it had been since he'd gotten one.

"How long have I been—" I couldn't go on.

He understood what I meant though. He cast his eyes down and furrowed his brow, as if the thought pained him.

"Four days,"

That surprised me. I hadn't thought it had been that long. Questions ran through my brain: What does my mother know? Where is Jameson? What happens now? None with simple answers.

I was aware that Derek was watching me, waiting for a reaction. I was numb. I moved over, carefully, giving his room to sit next to me.

He sat down and cradled my face in his hands, gingerly, not wanting to disturb the bandage on my forehead. I looked into his deep blue eyes, full of hurt and shame.

His lips met mine then. The kiss was full of compassion, relief, protectiveness. I had really scared him. I felt bad, knowing how terrified he must have been, how close he came to losing me.

I basked in the warmth of his embrace. It only lasted a minute though; the kiss ended when we heard footsteps in the hall. Jameson cracked the door and peered in.

He looked no better off than Derek. His shoulder length red hair hung in tangles and he looked like he was recovering from the flu. Paler skin than normal and baggy eyes from what I guessed was sleep deprivation.

He steel grey eyes lit up when they saw me.

"Are you alright?" he asked, weariness diluting the urgent tone in his voice.

I smiled in response, although I knew I must've looked like hell.

He pushed the door open and walked into the room. He was wearing stonewashed jeans and a vintage Beatles T-shirt; his usual wear. It look rumpled somehow, like he had slept with his clothes on.

I thought about it for a moment and realized he was probably wearing that the night I was attacked.

He walked up to the side of my bed and hesitated only a moment before settling down next to Derek. I thought that was a little weird; Jameson had known Derek for years, was his mentor as well as mine. He must have felt the atmosphere in the room change when he opened the door.

He handed me a glass of water from the bedside table. I drank in down greedily. It was stale and tasted like metal, but I was parched.

Their eyes didn't leave me, even as I sat the glass back down. I must have scared them pretty badly. Jameson had put his poker face back on, but I knew better. I could see the cracks.

"Are you alright?" he asked again, a different meaning this time. He meant: "Is the secret still safe?"

"Yes," I said. "But it doesn't matter Jameson," I looked right into his eyes then and took a deep breath. "It was a werewolf."

Derek sucked in a shocked breath and Jameson rubbed the three long scars trailing from the corner of his left eye to his mouth, and sighed; something he always did when in deep thought.

No one spoke for a long time, all of us lost in our own minds, contemplating what I had just said. It was Jameson who finally broke the silence.

"Are you sure?"

I nodded. But I could see he didn't believe me, or at least didn't want to, afraid of what it might mean.

So I added, "I was there. He was huge, had weird yellow eyes and was beating me into the ground with a crowbar. Yeah, I think I'm sure." My words dripped with sarcasm and hung in the air like a heavy raincloud.

Derek winced and looked away, clenching his jaw. Jameson just sighed and looked at me through tired eyes, begging me to see how precarious this situation had become.

"I'm sorry," I said.

Jameson just sighed and shook his head.

"What I don't get is why you were attacked at all. What have the werewolves got against you? Against us? Shifters haven't gone after them in a long time. They have no reason to—" he looked lost.

He was quiet after that, deep in thought. Deliberating. I looked at Derek instead. He felt my eyes on him. Looking up, he smiled sadly. Taking his hand in mine, we sat there. Waiting.

Giving Jameson time to think.

AUTHORS NOTE:

I know I left it at a cliffhanger there, but there will be updates soon. I promise. Scouts Honour! Anyway, I need some help coming up with names for some minor characters in this story. If you guys can come up with a name, or want me to use yours, just write the name in a review. I'll try to use as many as I can, but first come first serve! There are a lot of names I need, so everyone should get a chance. P.S—you might die in the story.

Thanks for reading, Please review!