Author's Note: Ok, so I'm still working on the next chapter of Closer, but I heard Birdy's version of Young Blood the other day, which is where the title and the lyrics in the summary come from, and this is what came to mind. This is set during the first episode of the show. I planned on this being a one-shot, but the ending is open, so... I dunno. My other story is pretty dark at times and I kinda just wanted to write something lighter, so I'll write more if it comes. As always, I own nothing. Not the characters or the show. Review if you wish. I love reading them. :)

He'd left her. He'd actually left her.

A body had just been found in these woods. Well, half a body, which only made it worse. And who cared if they had someone in custody? He'd freaking left her in the killer woods. Staring in disbelief at the leaves kicked up in the wake of the car, her shock turned to anger as a screech left her, "My science book excites me more than your sweaty groping, loser!"

Turning her gaze from the departing car to the trees around her, she came to the regrettable conclusion that the chances of another car coming by the road that she was on, if you could call it a road, were exceedingly slim. Resigned to the long walk ahead of her, she took a deep breath of the cold air and was silently grateful that she'd at least worn her boots today.

"Who goes parking in the middle of the day, anyway?" she muttered angrily to herself as she trudged through the leaves. "I don't care if a former nobody bitch-slapped you today in lacrosse, I don't always have the time to prop up your flaccid ego, Jackson. I have a test tomorrow, and unlike some people who barely have two brain cells to rub together, I care about my academic record," she ranted, her voice low and angry. "You're lucky I wasn't wearing heels today, because I would have shoved one up your narcissistic – "

"Not that this isn't entertaining," the voice interrupted her heated rambling and she let out a startled scream, turning too quickly and falling on her butt in the damp leaves as her ankle gave out on her. She found herself staring up into a solemn face that was quite possibly the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen, despite the frown he was shooting her way. She blinked and thought for a moment that she must have been hallucinating, because surely she would have heard about a gorgeously grumpy man roaming the woods. Her ears were always open to the mention of hot guys. She shook her head slightly and pulled her attention back to him, only to find that he remained stoic as he raised an eyebrow at her and finished with a hard, "But you're on private property."

She struggled to catch her breath, looking up at him as the chill of the ground seeped through her jeans. She felt a throbbing begin in her ankle and she looked down at it, giving her foot an experimental wiggle. She swallowed a whimper of pain before muttering, "Yeah? Well, it wasn't my idea."

"I don't care," his voice was unyielding and she jerked her gaze back to his as he gave a terse, "You're trespassing. Leave."

She felt a flush of anger stain her cheeks. Beautiful or not, he was a jerk. "Gladly," she spat back at him and shoved herself off the ground, only to cry out in pain as her ankle buckled beneath her and she braced herself for her second meeting with the ground. She was stopped short by a hard grip on her arms as he jerked her back upright, and for a split-second she wondered how he'd gotten to her so fast, before the blinding pain shooting up her leg forced every other thought from her mind.

She gripped his jacket in both hands, eyes squeezed shut as she tried to breathe through the pain to keep from doing something horrifically embarrassing, like vomiting on him. He'd definitely have her arrested for trespassing then.

"Can you walk?" he asked, and she cautiously placed a small amount of weight on her ankle. She shook her head quickly at the resulting pain, swallowing back the nausea.

"Well, that's just fucking great," he growled. She could practically feel the anger radiating off of him and she kept her head down as she blinked furiously, trying and failing to keep the tears from welling up. Her ankle was killing her, who knew how long a walk she had ahead of her, and this jerk was acting like she had the plague. She had every reason to cry if she wanted to, she just really didn't want to cry in front of him.

"This is not my fault," she argued, swiping quickly at her eyes before glaring up at him. "This is your fault."

He stared at her in mingled anger and disbelief as she raised her chin and said, "If you hadn't been lurking around like a creeper and scared me, I wouldn't have fallen."

"Lurking?" he stared at her as though he feared for her sanity before grinding out, "It's. My. Property."

"It's weird," she shot back, watching in morbid fascination as his jaw clenched so tight she was afraid it was going to break. Lifting her gaze to his, she studied him for a moment before tilting her head to the side and asking, "Does your eyelid twitch like that often? Maybe you should get it checked out."

His hands tightened on her arms and she clamped her mouth shut before he decided that strangling her and burying her body in the woods were viable options.

"I want you off my property," he growled, releasing her abruptly and stepping back.

She swayed slightly as she lost his support before righting herself. "I'll get right on that," she scoffed. "Would you like me to crawl on my hands and knees? Or would hopping be sufficient?"

If she hadn't been watching him, she would have missed the fleeting half-smile that tilted his mouth up before he could stop it. She stared. It was barely a smile, a blink-and-you-miss-it expression. And suddenly, it was the most important thing in the world to her to see it again.

"As amusing as that would be," he said, his solemn tone making her silently question the amount of times in his life he'd actually been amused, she could probably count them on one hand, "you'd be here for days." He reached for her and she would have stepped back if she'd been physically capable. Instead, she could only suck in a startled breath as he lifted her easily and began walking. "I don't have that kind of time," he muttered, staring straight ahead as she stared at him.

The next few minutes passed in silence. She alternated her gaze between watching her hands resting against her stomach while threading her fingers together nervously, and watching his face. The latter pulling her gaze in longer and longer intervals until she gave up even the pretense of looking at her hands and let her stare rest on him as he stared straight ahead and studiously avoided looking at her.

His eyes were beautiful, she decided. Clear and green, like a forest lake... or that amazing pair of Gucci heels she'd been lusting after for months. Definitely beautiful eyes, and the rest wasn't bad either. She wondered what he would do if she reached out and ran her fingers along his jaw like she wanted. He'd probably bite her. She smirked at the image. That might be kind of fun, actually.

The thought gave her pause. She was contemplating a stranger biting her, and enjoying it. Shouldn't she be thinking about ways to escape if it turned out he was the one leaving pieces of bodies lying around? It would have been the smart thing to do, and she was very smart. Cataloging every word and gesture of others, filing them away for later use. Always landing on top no matter what, and having a plan allowed you to do that. But staring up at his face, she couldn't make her mind turn to escape plans. If anything, her mind turned to ways of getting him to hold her longer.

He still hadn't looked at her, though, and she sighed and fought the urge to swing her feet back and forth. The silence was starting to get to her, as was the fact that he was ignoring her completely. Maybe he'd forgotten he was even carrying her. He didn't act like her weight bothered him. He wasn't even winded. Jackson would have been gasping for breath by now. Actually, she reconsidered, he wouldn't have been. Because he would have left her there. Loser.

"Are you taking me somewhere to murder me?" her casual question broke the silence.

He stumbled and she threw her arms around his neck, not wanting a repeat performance of her earlier meeting with the ground. He finally turned his head and looked at her. She would have celebrated that small triumph, but she couldn't seem to think straight as his gaze locked on hers. Clear and green and so very pretty, even better than Gucci.

Her arms tightened around his neck and she saw him swallow hard before he tore his gaze from hers and started walking again. "If I were, I wouldn't tell you," he growled.

She kept her arms around his neck as they lapsed into silence once again. Plucking absently at the collar of his jacket, she wondered if he'd notice if she leaned in a little closer. He smelled really good. She wanted to bury her face in his neck and inhale him. Was it creepy to sniff someone you just met? Probably, she acknowledged. It was a definite possibility that he would drop her and run screaming, and then she wouldn't be able to smell him at all. She decided it would be wise to keep her nose to herself.

The silence was starting to get to her again and she tried not to fidget in his arms before saying, "My name's Lydia, by the way. Lydia Martin."

"I don't care," he said tersely.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Of course you do," she argued.

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No –," he broke off and closed his eyes, breathing deeply before opening them and pinning her with a glare. "I am not going to argue with a teenage girl about whether I care about her name or not," he spat out.

"Of course you care, why wouldn't you?" she shrugged. "I care about yours," she said quickly, forestalling the shout she could practically see building up in him. He blinked at her. She had apparently shocked him into silence, not that he was exactly talkative to begin with. She drummed her fingers against his shoulder as the silence stretched on. "So," she finally broke it when it became apparent that he wouldn't, "what is it?"

"What?" he gave a small shake of his head as he started walking again.

"Your name," she prodded him.

"None of your business," he shot back.

"Unusual," she mused. "Your parents must have really disliked you."

"I will drop you," his dry retort made her giggle even as she acknowledged to herself that he was probably at least half-way serious. She heard the small hitch in his breathing at her laugh, saw the glint of amusement in his eyes before he blinked and it was gone. She wanted to raise her fist in triumph at even that small show of emotion from him. He really was entirely too pretty to be so serious. He looked like he'd never cracked a full smile in his life. She decided it was her duty as a compassionate human being to get him to smile. Just one smile. One tiny smile. It would be her good deed for the day.

"Come on," she whined. "I told you mine. Now you tell me yours. Give and take. That's how a partnership works."

"First off," he said as she stared in rapt fascination at his lips, "this isn't a partnership. And second, I didn't ask for your name."

"That makes it even worse that you won't tell me yours," she argued. "I gave you mine voluntarily out of the goodness of my heart, I didn't make you beg or anything. That should earn me extra points."

"No, that just makes you a sucker," he replied before turning his gaze to her. "Never give something away for free, Lydia," he said, his voice low.

She felt her heart beat faster, whether from his stare or his use of her name she wasn't sure. She just knew she wanted to hear it again. And again. And again.

He turned back to the road and she struggled to steady her breathing. "I'll keep that in mind," she said and considered it a triumph when her voice barely trembled. "However," she continued, "since I already gave you my name, it's only fair that you give me yours. That way I didn't give anything away for free," she grinned at him, satisfied with her logic and the fact that he didn't shut her down immediately, though he still didn't say anything.

"Is this a religious thing?" she asked when he remained mute. "Are you afraid that if I know your name I'll, like, steal your soul or something?"

She'd meant it as a joke, but the face that turned to look at her wasn't laughing. His gaze felt like it was cutting into her as it roved over her face, settling on her mouth a moment longer than was probably necessary and she fought the urge to drag her teeth across her tingling lips. He jerked his eyes back to the road and if she hadn't been so very hyper-aware of him in that moment she would have missed his barely whispered, "Or something."

Her hands clenched on the collar of his jacket, the backs of her fingers brushing his neck, and she couldn't think of a single thing to say.

She was finally quiet in his arms.

The girl, Lydia, was still staring at him. He could feel her gaze boring into him and he barely managed to keep his eyes on the road. It made him twitchy, having her eyes constantly on him. She stared at him like she had the right to, like she was inspecting a new possession. Any minute now, he expected her to open his mouth and examine his teeth. The girl had actually been flirting with him. Flirting. With him. A stranger she'd just met who'd made it abundantly clear that he didn't want her around. And she had understood that. He had smelled the anger building up in her before her scent had been flooded with nothing but pain and he'd reached for her before he really even realized what he was doing. It was unnerving, but at least she was quiet now. And he was glad about that. He was. Which was why he felt as shocked as she looked when he heard a reluctant, "Derek," leave his mouth.

"What?' she asked, but he knew she'd heard him because a blinding smile was beginning to steal over her face and he felt his own lips twitch in an answering smile that he just managed to hold back. He lost the battle not to look at her, though, and he turned to face her with an inner sigh of defeat and said, "Derek Hale."

"See?" she said, still grinning. "That wasn't so difficult. You didn't choke on the words or anything. And as far as I can tell," she slid one hand down and pressed it to his chest with an exaggerated look of concentration on her face and he barely succeeded in stopping his hands from clamping down involuntarily on her delicate flesh, "your heart is still beating. So I can only conclude that your soul remains intact."

He wanted to believe that. To believe that there was still some part of him, however small, that wasn't full of anger and hate and bitterness. He wanted to believe, but he didn't. And this girl, if she really knew him and what he was, she wouldn't believe it either. And she wouldn't smile at him, or flirt with him, or let him carry her as though she trusted him not to hurt her. She would've crawled for miles rather than let him touch her at all.

"Derek?" her small voice broke through his thoughts and he blinked, realizing he'd stopped walking and was glaring at nothing. Her voice was cautious, a hint of anxiety threading through the lavender of her scent, but still no fear. He had yet to smell fear on her at all and it filled him with a sense of... relief. When was the last time he hadn't inspired at least some fear in a human? Whether he meant to frighten them or not, although he usually meant to, humans were wary around him. An underlying sense of self-preservation kicking in as they subconsciously recognized him for the predator that he was. She either had absolutely no protective instincts or... he wasn't sure. But she wasn't afraid of him.

He realized she was still staring at him questioningly and he had yet to say anything. "We're close to the main road," he finally managed to say as he resumed walking.

"Are you that eager to get rid of me?" she joked, but he heard the faint thread of disappointment in her voice, smelled a trace of sadness on her skin. She wasn't ready to leave him, and he had no words for that.

His arms tightened infinitesimally, holding her closer. She probably hadn't even felt it, but he did and he frowned. He hadn't planned on holding her closer, he hadn't planned on holding her at all. He hadn't planned on catching her before she fell to the ground when her ankle buckled and could only be grateful she'd seemed to be too distracted by pain to notice he'd reached her faster than he should have. He hadn't planned on carrying her, or talking to her, or telling her his name.

He had a plan, and it involved blood and death and maybe even a decapitation or two. But it did not involve her. He walked a little faster when he realized it was getting more and more difficult to remember why it shouldn't.

His steps faltered as the road came into view and he stopped completely when they reached the edge of it. Her arms hitched a little tighter around his neck as she asked, "What now?" He stared back at her, unsure. When he had started walking, his only thought had been to get her off of his property with the vague idea of leaving her by the side of the road. Someone would come by eventually. Now, though, he was loath to set her down, much less leave her to fend for herself. The unsettling thought that he could just turn around with her and go back the way they had come crept through his mind before the sound of an approaching car broke the silence.

He looked up as it pulled off on the side of the road and a brunette stepped out wearing scrubs. "Is everything ok?" she asked, concern in her voice.

"She fell," he said, watching as her eyes moved to Lydia. "She twisted her ankle," he grudgingly volunteered before she could ask. He should let the girl speak for herself, but she remained silent, watching as the woman moved closer and he resisted the urge to back up when she tensed in his arms.

"Which one?" the woman asked and Lydia responded with a quiet, "The right one."

"Can you move your foot?" she questioned, and he felt himself tense as the girl took a deep breath and moved her foot slightly, whimpering in pain almost immediately. "Ok," the woman nodded, reaching out and gently touching her ankle, barely brushing it before Lydia cried out, her body jerking in shock and pain before trying to curl into herself, into him in an unconscious search for protection.

"Stop," the snarl was ripped from him and the woman lifted her hands and backed up slowly. He held the girl closer, pushing down a growl as the smell of her pain and tears nearly overwhelmed him and could only hope that his eyes weren't flickering.

"I was just trying to check the swelling," she said gently, and he could smell the truth on her. Still, if the girl hadn't been shaking in his arms, he would have ripped the woman's throat out by now. He blinked and lowered his eyes, shaken at the thought. He didn't know this woman and she had only been trying to help, where the fuck was his control? He could feel the girl's breath on his neck as the pain faded from her scent and he was once again surrounded by the smell of her. Just her as she relaxed in his arms and he –

Shaking himself mentally, he struggled to clear his mind. He needed her gone. This wasn't normal, his reaction to her. He shouldn't be holding her like this, shouldn't be breathing her in, shouldn't be feeling like protecting her was what he had been born for. This wasn't normal.

"She needs an x-ray," the woman's voice cut into his increasingly panicked thoughts and he jerked his head up to stare at her. "I work at the hospital," she said, indicating the scrubs. "I can take her there... unless you plan on carrying her the whole way?" she raised an eyebrow at him.

"That's fine," he ground out, shoving down his reluctance as he carried her to the passenger side. The woman moved to open the door for him before walking to the driver's side. Lydia remained quite throughout their exchange, her tightening grip on the collar of his jacket the only sign that she had been paying attention. He set her down gently, taking perhaps more care than was warranted to make sure she didn't hit her head on the edge of the door frame.

Still, she hadn't looked at him and he raised his hands to tug at her wrists as her fingers remained clenched in his jacket. "You have to let go, Lydia," he said, his voice low. She jerked her gaze up to his and blinked, looking from his face to her hands before quickly releasing him and dropping her hands into her lap, a blush suffusing her face.

He suppressed the urge to smile at her as the blush spread until even her ears were turning pink. He wanted to reach out, to skim his fingers along her cheekbone before tracing the delicate shell of her ear. His hand lifted a fraction before he could force himself to stop. This wasn't what he did. He did not smile at people or watch them blush or want to touch their fucking ears unless he was ripping them from their skulls. He needed her gone.

"Are you coming?" the woman's voice broke through his thoughts and he blinked, keeping his gaze on the girl as she stared down at her hands.

"No," he said, his voice clipped. He stood, wanting to slam the door and run, but he couldn't fucking make himself and he paused to make sure Lydia was fully in the car before shutting the door and turning away.

He could feel her eyes on him as he walked back toward the woods, knew that if he turned he would see her looking. But he didn't turn, only kept walking until he the sound of the car faded. And then he ran.