Chapter One: Red door.

"Moving like the speed of sound
Feet can't keep on the ground
Can't stay in one place
Keep moving like a bullet train"

Bullet Train ~ Stephen Swartz featuring Joni Fatora

I was told I would be safe. That I had family there. If I sought them out they would help me. Somehow they knew who I was even if I had no idea they existed.

So I ran.

Maybe I should have stayed to figure things out... because everything was such a mess. My entire existence shattered in a split second, not a single clue what fucked up situation my father had gotten us into. Now he was... he was dead. And I had not even the slightest idea of what I was supposed to do. Other than run, "Run... fast and-and don't look back, princess."

"Why?" My voice croaked. I let my head fall on the fogged glass window of the train. Tucking my legs to my chest, I rested my head on my knees tiredly. Clenching my eyes tightly, I sucked in a sharp breath. There was so much blood. I couldn't close my eyes without seeing it. The smell so coppery and pungent, I tasted the vomit on my breath. Blearily, I looked out the window watching the rain drops trickle down. I couldn't make out the shapes in the darkness, but I knew we were close. I'd be on this stupid train for hours, we had to be close.

Smoothing out the tear spotted paper in my hand, I read the scribbles. Or, what I could make out of them. Some of Dad's last struggled breaths were telling me there was a box under the floorboard in his bedroom, underneath his dresser. He said to look for it and inside it would tell me where I needed to go, who I had to ask for. There was also money in the rusted box. A lot of money. More money than I had ever seen in my entire life. And here I thought we were broke. Living off scraps and sometimes having one meal a day. To think we had all this money under our floorboards. Not to mention, the box held some information about a few bank accounts that were in my name. A few? To my knowledge we hardly were able to manage one, let alone a few.

I restrained myself from crumpling up the parchment, again. "What the hell Dad?" None of this made sense.

The train started to slow. Greedily, I reached for the two medium sized luggage bags and backpack I had managed to stuff with my belongings. Dad said to pack light, but he also said I could never come back. So I packed everything I could think of. My favorite clothes, the numerous amount of shoes I owned, laptop, books, makeup, pictures, favorite pillow, the feather down blanket I couldn't sleep without, and maybe a lot of unnecessary stuff I didn't need.

Like, I might not have needed the entire series of Supernatural, but those were expensive and I wasn't going to leave that behind. Especially when I worked so hard to buy those damn things at the stupid theatre job I had.I hadn't even had time to give a two weeks notice. Not like it mattered, but it is sad to think I might not be able to use them as a reliable reference on a resume. Although, at this point I wasn't even sure I'd be able to use my own name anymore. How does one even change their identity?

As soon as the train jolted to a stop I sprinted off. This damn thing was nauseating. However, the action reminded me that my back was stiff and my neck tense from the long journey. Cracking my neck I sighed at the release, but it didn't last long before the pain crept back. My eyes scanned the darkened train station warily. It was cold, dark, and I was alone. And I had just seen my father die less than twenty-four hours ago. My hands shook at the thought. God, so much blood... I didn't know anyone could bleed so much.

Luckily there was a taxi parked outside. I darted over to it, shoving the luggage behind me sloppily. The cab driver stepped out and helped me load them in the trunk before he held the door for me to slip in the backseat.

Handing him the tattered piece of paper with the address, he glanced back at me oddly after taking a moment to read it over. "You sure this is where you wanna go ma'am?"

"Yeah," I muttered, my hands shaking as I reached for the crumpled paper. As if that wasn't reassuring to wherever the hell my father sent me. "That is where I was told to go."

He raised a bushy blonde brow skeptically. "Well, okay then. Buckle up."

I squirmed in the torn seats awkwardly. The cab driver hummed along to some oldies song as we passed through a forested trail. The trees were denser and the only form of light was coming from the brightness of the moon. An eery feeling crawled up my spine making me shiver. Was he going to kill me? Where was this place anyway?

"Umm... how much farther?" I asked as we dug even deeper into the forest. The road he turned onto hardly fit the cab.

"Just a few more turns. It'll actually be a bit of a walk for you. The road ends before you can actually reach the house," he responded, his eyebrows raising in the rearview mirror.

I frowned. "Oh, okay."

A few moments later the taxi pulled to the side of the road. Once more, he assisted in helping me in getting my bags out of the trunk. All the while, I had my eyes trained on the small trail that was almost overgrown.

The man pointed in the direction my eyes were already focused on. "Just head straight up this trail and you'll reach the house."

"Thanks. Um, here-" I pulled out the wad of cash and handed him the fair with a tip hastily. Anything to get rid of him. "I appreciate it."

"Yeah, well." The man waved his hand around, clearly confused by why I wanted to go to this creepy trail of all places well after midnight. I was asking myself the same thing. "Good luck."

With a sigh, I secured the straps on my backpack and gripped the hands of my luggage tightly. I could already feel my palms sweating in anticipation. Back straight, I shuffled on through the trail as the taxi pulled off. No turning back now. Not that there was anywhere to turn back to.

My foot stumbled on the wet ground, I slipped grazing my knee. Cursing, I pushed myself back on my feet and carried on down the pathway. Really? Who lives out in the middle of nowhere like this? I fell once more with a hiss. Well, I hoped these people have band-aides because I was going to need to cover my entire body with them by the end of this journey.

I could tell I was reaching the end of the trail because the overgrowth lessened. Picking up my speed; much to the dissatisfaction in my back, neck, and now knees. I made it to out into an open area. My eyes widened. The house...

A crazed laugh built in my chest and I gripped the locks of my hazelnut waves angrily. "Are you freaking kidding me Dad?"

Dropping the luggage, I stomped closer to the house for closer inspection. Just to make sure maybe, just maybe, I was going out of my damn mind and not seeing things correctly. Yep. The house was burnt down. Gaps were in the walls where the wood had decayed, almost the entire house was a coal color where the fire licked it's way up the panelling. Most of the windows had the glass completely busted, excluding a few that were magically still intact with a single crack. And the only thing that stood out worse than the tarnished building was the oddly painted bright red door.

I twirled before the house looking for any sign of life. "Is anybody home? Anyone? Any-fucking-one? No. What a surprise? Hah. And to think I traveled miles to an abandoned haunted house. Great, awesome. This is fan-freaking-tastic. Love you too, Dad."

Now what? Throwing up my hands, I sought for something to punch. I had nowhere to go. No living family that I was aware of. And I traveled miles away from home to this place called Beacon Hills, which apparently was "supposed" to have all the answers.

Grabbing my bags I tugged them up the porch. Cautiously opening the red front door, I peeked my head in just incase there was some strange animal or whatever living inside. The bottom floor looked worse inside than the outside. Hardly anything was left. But the stairs didn't look half bad. I carefully put some pressure on the first step to make sure it didn't collapse under my weight. It seemed safe. I continued up the stairs and into the first room. There was nothing in it other than the busted out windows and dust on the floor. It didn't look like the fire caught too much in this room, but there was some marks from the flames on the walls.

I shut the door behind me. Not that it appeared I had to worry about privacy, but mostly to keep any creepy ghost or whatever out. This house was definitely haunted.

I reached into one of the bags and tugged out the pillow and blanket I had packed. My eyes frowned at the dirty floor. It was either here, outside, or going to the police. The police didn't seem like a good idea. Especially since I high-tailed it out of my house leaving my father's mangled body behind.

Curling up in a ball, I clutched my backpack to my chest comfortingly. Tears pricked at my eyes and I felt the ball forming in my throat. But I couldn't close my eyes, if I did I would see it. All that blood...

"Dad, what were you hiding from me?"

After struggling to hold back my tears a ferocious sob escaped. That got the ball rolling and before I knew it I was gasping for breath, clutching the backpack so tightly, if it were a person I would have strangled it to death. I wanted to scream and hit someone. I wanted to hit my dad. I wanted... I wanted him to tell me everything would be okay and this was all some sick twisted joke. I wanted him to hold me, say one of his stupid jokes that made me so unbelievably irritated. Because why would you tell your daughters friends knock-knock jokes while we are trying to discuss homework? How embarrassing. But I would take back how embarrassed I felt if I could show myself how I felt now.

Somehow I managed to exhaust myself into falling asleep. It was restless. I woke up sweating and screaming, throat raw. I'd lay my head down and gaze out the busted window. The stars were shining brightly through the tops of the trees. Then, I would drift off into another painful sleep. Mind wandering in the darkness of my dreams. Blood, there was so much damn blood...

The sound of screaming woke me from my latest and longest rest. This time it wasn't my own. Fear clenched my gut as I carefully pushed myself on my feet. Glancing at my bags and the door I cursed myself. I didn't want to leave my things, I kind of understood what my dad meant about packing light. My backpack was so heavy I wouldn't be able to bust out of here without getting caught. I pressed my ear to the door. Maybe who ever it was wouldn't come up here?

A male's voice echoed up the stairs, "You painted the door. Why did you paint the door?" At least I'm not the only one thrown off by the bright red door. It just appeared so out of place in this run down home.

"Go home, Scott." Another voice threatened, his tone was deeper and demanding.

"Why only one side?"

"Scott!"

There was the sound of scratching. Curiously, I opened the door to peek out. From what I could make out there were three male's. They actually didn't appear as threatening as I figured random men in a burnt down abandoned house would look. Two appeared to be teenagers around my age and the other was a scruffy looking guy in his early twenties at most.

"The birds at the school, the deer last night- just like the deer when I get bit by the Alpha. How many are there?"

There was an irritated sigh from the elder of the group. "A pack of 'em. An Alpha pack."

"All of them? How does that even work?"

"I hear there's some king of leader. He's called Deucalion."

What in the heck? I didn't even want to know. But... maybe these were the people my father wanted me to see? Maybe he hadn't actually led me astray. Hopefully Dad wasn't in some kind of cult because whatever they were talking about made zero sense.

They started to move away from the door downstairs. I didn't want to do this. Nope, no, not even slightly. But I needed answers. With a shaky breath I shoved the door open causing the three of them to stare up at me as it pounded against the back of the wall. All looked shocked by my sudden appearance and I was definitely rethinking my entry.

"Um... hi," I started and any effort of sounding confident was lost with how squeaky my voice came out. Like a scared little mouse. "I'm... I'm looking for the owner of this house?"

The elder man crossed his arms over his chest. An inquisitive thick black brow was raised as his eyes took in my appearance. And I realized I looked terrible, actually worse. I probably appeared homeless. I wore washed out skinny jeans, a maroon teeshirt, my dads leather jacket that smelt so much like him I had to bring it, and everything from my feet to my hair was covered in the dust and grime from the floors.

"This house is owned by the county," the man informed.

"Oh." I tugged at my matted hair nervously. "Do... do you know who previously owned this house by any chance? I'm, ugh, looking for them."

He glowered impatiently. "Why?"

"It's a long personal story that I really don't want to, um, get into... so... if you know where they might be that would be perfect... if not, I guess I can just leave. I just, I don't know who I'm looking for, all I know is that my dad told me to come here."

The two younger boys looked on skeptically as their gazes flickered from me to the man. I fidgeted, I had obviously interrupted an important conversation.

"Who is your farther?"

"David Spencer," I whispered. Just hearing his name caused my stomach to squirm. "He was my father."

"Never heard of him."

"Well, maybe the previous owner's of this house has." My tone was a lot snippier than I intended, but dammit I was exhausted. All I wanted was to have a nice warm bath, eat a home cooked meal, and sleep. Not that I could sleep if I tried, but I wanted to.

"I am the previous owner."

My brows raised irritably. He could have just said that to begin with. "I have something to show you then. I was hoping you might be able to help me out. Um, one-second! Let me get it."

I darted back into the room and rustled open the luggage bag with the box. Tugging it out with a groan I made it out the door. Standing at the end of the stairs I stared down at the three, my gut churning once more. I didn't want to get any closer, but I obviously had to show this guy what was in the box for him to be able to see it. The only way to do that, unfortunately, was getting closer. Tip toeing down the stairs I kept my eyes on them, wide and fearful. If they made any sudden movements I would hit them. I probably wouldn't get far; the man and the shorter boy were pretty muscular.

With shaking hands I opened the box and pulled out the picture and paper that were tucked inside. Handing him the picture he grabbed it with a scowl, his pale green eyes widened evidently shocked as soon as his eyes glazed over the tattered item. When I had looked at the picture earlier it had my name scribbled on the back, but that was the only indication that I knew it was of me. Other than the fact the baby did look like me in comparison to other baby photos Dad had of me around the house. There was a woman with long hair and bright beautiful eyes, she cradled a four-month-old me to her chest. I assumed she was my mother, but I couldn't be positive. Dad never really told me about my mom and he never kept any pictures of family members around the house. Maybe that should have been a hint that something was off, but I had grown up like that... I never had to question anything before.

"Where did you get this?"

I bit my lip. "My dad, he had this box under the floor in the house. There's also this-" I pulled out my birth certificate. "Apparently my last name isn't really Spencer."

"Lillian Hale," his voice was softer than before. His eyes fell on me curiously. The two teens gaped at me in shock.

"Did he just say what I think he just said?" The taller, lankier boy hushed to the shorter, muscular teen.

"I don't know why he kept this from me... but he was murdered and-and he told me to come here. Said I would be able to get answers. And I- I don't have any place to go. I don't..." My eyes watered and I willed myself not to break down, but it was so hard not to. "I just want answers and to take a bath."

The man handed me back the items and I carefully placed them back in the box. His eyes traced my face and I knew I looked dirty, but his eyes bore through me. Like he was picking apart every feature and flaw. "Get your things together and meet me outside on the porch. We-" he motioned to the two teens. "Have a few things to discuss. But, I know someone that should be able to provide answers for you."

I narrowed my eyes. This guy just expected me to get in a car with him? And drive to who knows where? "Who are you?"

"My name is Derek Hale," he pursed his lips. I nodded tiredly. Honestly, I wasn't going to argue with anyone at this point. And whoever he was he was claiming to help and hopefully he was family. I didn't have anywhere else to go anyway.

A/N: YOU can also read this story on wwatpad under the username: lovesavetheempty.

WARNING: Future chapters contain mature content. This is a StilesXoc story, but I shall advise that there will be some girlxgirl scenes. I won't explain at this current time, but it does relate to Lilly's character and shall make sense if you choose to continue reading! Thanks :D