After a nice, brief break, I've finally decided to return from my hiatus and continue on with this story. I want to thank you all for your kind words about "Home" and that they truly did make me so happy while I was resting my muse. Just so you all know, the plot will be loosely following the plot of season two, but, as always, I will throw in a few of my own twists as well as a couple new characters. The plot will be set about a couple months after the events of the first season—I know a little bit of time passed by in between seasons on the television show, but it seemed to be more realistic with the developments of the characters if a good chunk of time elapsed. I also want to add that, for those of you who have taken a peek at my Author's Page, I used to have Felicity Jones as the actress who portrayed Jane. But, after some thought, I have decided to change actresses to Emilia Clarke, mostly known for her role as Daenerys on Game of Thrones (which is an incredible show, by the way). There are a couple pictures posted of her (as a brunette, of course) in case you all want to take a look sometime. (: Also, the lovely graphic that is the book cover for this story was created by the incredible Lady Asphodel from The Dark Arts. If anyone is interested in graphics, they should definitely check out that website-they have the most talented artists I've ever seen. Well, without further ado, here is the first (of hopefully many) installment of "Howl":

Favorite Line:

"Derek?"

The sharp, harsh sound of a locker slamming jolted me from my tangled thoughts, my shoulders visibly shuddering as I cast a surprised glance around the room I was entrapped within. The backroom of Beacon Hills Hospital was practically bustling with nurses and doctors and medical staff who were either buzzing about finally being free from their shifts or morosely silent as they prepared to begin their nights. Most of their faces were vaguely familiar, but there were still a couple undecipherable faces sprinkled throughout them. Dressed in my emerald green nurse's scrubs, I blended in quite well with them—as if I actually worked with them.

Forcing a vaguely calming breath through my gritted teeth, I found myself stumbling upon the woman standing right over my shoulder out the corner of my eye. She was clad in sunshine-yellow nurse's scrubs, thick-soled black sneakers encasing her feet. Soft slivers of grey streaked throughout her stick-straight, light brown hair, lines tugging at the corners of her beady, black eyes. The sharp tip of her nose was slightly tilted downward, nearly pointing directly to the white, linoleum floor that was only five feet away from her.

Catching my glance, a rather sheepish grin spread across the woman's lined face as she said, "Sorry about that, Jane. I didn't know you were so skittish."

"Don't worry about it," I shrugged, offering her a light smile and hoping I would wipe the determined sense of curiosity that, in an instant, was sweeping across her sharp features.

Beth Hart had been the first of my coworkers that I had managed to meet when I'd started my measly desk job at Beacon Hills, partly since she was usually scheduled for the same shifts as me. The real reason, however, was that Beth made sure to shove her pointy nose into each and every person she met while working and digging up the long list of dirty secrets and juicy gossip that she can dish out at her book club. I knew this all too well thanks to my incessant need to make friends and my naïve decision to attend one of these book club meetings. To be honest, the meeting seemed to lack any talk about the book we were assigned to read, and was mostly filled with vicious, snarky comments about some woman with a botched boob job.

"So, Jane," said Beth now, jarring me from the painful memory and dragging me back to the present with her curious smile. "Any plans for tonight? It is Friday, after all."

Initially I simply shrugged, slipping my arms through my pale blue fleece jacket and silently zipping it up to my bare neck. Being jolted by the insistent stare of Beth, I blinked and relented, "I'm just running some errands before I go home—go to the grocery store, maybe stop at the gym—"

"That's the exact opposite of my Friday nights when I was in college," came a familiar, lightly amused voice from my left.

In a quick instant, a rush of relief fluttered through my veins as I glanced over to find Melissa McCall unbundling her thick, curly curtain of beautiful chocolate brown hair from the top of her head, her warm dark eyes flicking from her locker—which was located to the right of mine—and my own.

Sticking her nose up in the air in muted annoyance, Beth cocked an eyebrow at Melissa and asked nosily, "And what exactly were those Friday nights like, Melissa?"

"When I remember them, I'll let you know, Beth," she grinned in response, grabbing her belongings from her locker and beginning to shrug her own jacket onto her slender shoulders. "Oh, and I think Denise was looking for you."

Pursing her lips at the thought of our stubborn, sharp-tongued supervisor, Beth sighed and slipped out of the locker room, following the scores of people that were finally slipping out of the door. As I fumbled through my purse for my purse keys, I glanced up at Melissa and couldn't help but consider how, just a couple months ago, I hadn't been able to even look at her without automatically considering the fact that she was Scott's mother. But, after Scott had managed to officially introduce me to his mother and explain how I was desperate to find a job at the hospital, she had been more than happy to recommend me to her supervisor and, in less than two weeks, I was starting orientation. Still, even when we were working on the same shift with one another, I would still occasionally catch myself nearly calling her Mrs. McCall.

"What did Denise want with Beth?" I asked her now curiously.

"Nothing," she replied simply, mischievous smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I just figured I wasn't the only one who needed a break from Beth." Smirking as I bit back my own understanding smile, Melissa added, "So, really, now that Beth's gone—what are your plans for tonight?"

Blinking up at her in puzzlement, I slowly replied, "I was telling the truth. I just have to go to the grocery store to pick up a few things and stop at the gym, then I'm just going home. I have to do get some studying done anyways, since I'm covering Amy's shift tomorrow night right after mine." Catching the strange expression blossoming on her usually warm face, I frowned and added, "What is it?"

"You do realize you are almost twenty years old, live in your own apartment, and are a college student?" said Melissa. At my confused nod, she continued, "Well, having those attributes basically requires you to go out drinking and partying and making mistakes that will make you cringe twenty years down the road."

My responding laughter and shaking of my head didn't seem to appease Melissa one bit. Even as I slammed my own locker shut and returned my gaze to her determined stare, I wasn't quite sure how she had expected me to respond. Eventually I said with a little shrug, my gaze still cast onto the contents of my purse, "Big college parties aren't exactly my type of scene. And I really do have to get some work done before this weekend—I'm scheduled to work all weekend long, and if I don't get it all done, I'll fall behind and—"

"Jane," said Melissa firmly, forcing me to stop my incessant rambling and reluctantly stare at her. "You need to stop worrying so much about your responsibilities—it's great, don't get me wrong, but you need to get out and do something. Go to a frat party, go to a club, go on a date—"

At her last suggestion, I subconsciously sucked in a sharp gasp of breath, my spine stiffening as I momentarily forgot about possibly finding my car keys. My eyelids slipped closed, my mind struggling to stifle the thoughts of a penetrating pair of forest green eyes from creeping back into my head. I had been doing so well the past couple of months, forgetting about the past and moving on with my life—and yet, with one tiny word from my coworker, all of that progress was eviscerated in a second.

Avoiding the sharp eyes of Melissa as my fingers finally clasped the cool metal of my keys, I quietly said, "It's probably a good idea to…not go on any dates for right now."

"How come?" asked Melissa, a tad bit puzzled now.

Sighing, I finally offered her a weak smile. "My last relationship was a little…complicated, you could say. It's just a bad idea to start dating right now. But," I hastily added as she opened her mouth, "I promise you I will try to have a little bit more fun and stop being so serious all the time. I promise I will."

It took Melissa only a second of searching my cerulean blue eyes to finally nod and smile gently down at me. "I'll hold you to that promise," she said, causing me to softly chuckle. "Have a good night, alright?"

"You too," I replied just as she slipped out of the locker room. It took me a few more calming breaths before I could gather my strength and, ignoring the slight trembling deep within my knees, step back into the fluorescent lights of the hospital and return back to reality.

Just as I slipped out of my car and bundled up my wide, brown paper grocery bags into my arms, a loud vibrating erupted within my pocket. Groaning in annoyance, I kicked my car door closed with the toe of my tennis shoe, only to have it creak loudly in protest as it gently rested against the door jamb. Rolling my eyes, I reached my fingers down and slammed it shut, vaguely thinking about how I really needed to start looking around for a new car. Mine, which had gone through long, harrowingly cold winters and a long commute across the country, was in desperate need of a reprieve.

Briefly shaking these wishful thoughts from my mind, I balanced my grocery bags against the hood of my car and, with my momentarily free hand, dug my buzzing cell phone from my pocket and pressed it against my ear. "Hello?" I asked, shoving my bags back into my grasp.

"Hey Jane," came my uncle's voice, exhaustion already creeping into his voice from a long day's work. "Hope I'm not catching you at a bad time."

"Not at all," I told him, cradling my phone into the crease of my shoulder as I took a step away from my car and began my trek up to my home.

When I say home, I don't mean my grandparents' house—in fact, I had not returned to my bedroom in that house for a month now. After finishing my last semester at Beacon Hills High School and earning an acceptance letter to a local community college, I had found that it was time to finally move out onto my own. Using a portion of my savings and a chunk of the money my father had left behind after his passing, I had managed to find a decently sized apartment with a reasonable rent, one right on the outskirts of downtown Beacon Hills. So, after packing up all of my belongings for a second time in less than a year, I was forced to do the most difficult part of moving—saying goodbye.

Believe it or not, my grandfather had been the one to shed a few tears when I had hugged him goodbye. They had glistened on his papery, wrinkled skin as he whispered about how truly proud he was of me, and that their door was always open if I ever needed a place to stay the night. Nana, on the other hand, had simply smiled sadly down at me as she bundled me up in her arms and repeated my grandfather's words, adding that she was positive that my father would have been immensely proud of how far I had gone.

Shoving away the painful memories as I reached the front door of my apartment building, I added into the phone, "I just got home from the grocery store—I honestly completely forgot about your dinner tonight until about fifteen minutes ago, so I had to scramble to pick up a few things."

As I punched in the code to my apartment build and waited patiently for the click of the electronic lock, I expected Uncle Jake to say something, anything about our planned dinner for the night. We had sworn to each other that, once a month, we would get together and have dinner, instead of allowing the responsibilities of our lives to swallow us whole. But, as I pushed the main entrance door open with my back, all that came to my ear was a quiet, "Yeah, Jane, about that…"

"What happened?" I asked immediately, an instant foreboding sensation flooding my senses as my steps resounded throughout the empty foyer. A line of slate gray mailboxes stood parallel to me, but I was forced to ignore their gleaming beckoning and cross the pearly white tile floor. The staircase was only a few steps away, past the faulty elevator, but I ignored the inner dreading of having to climb four flights of stairs as I nervously waited for my uncle's response.

"Nothing bad," he replied, temporarily stifling my fears. "Well, I guess that's not true. A girl went missing a few hours ago and now I have to lead a search party into the Reserve to find her. I'm sorry, Jane; I know I already cancelled on you before—"

"It's not your fault, Uncle Jake," I interrupted him, easily masking the pang of disappointment deep within me as I continued my ascent up the staircase to my apartment. "It's your job. We'll just get together some other time. Who's the girl?"

"It's L—what was that? Alright, thanks, Johnson."

My brow furrowing and wrinkling my forehead as my tired feet slowly staggered up the last flight of stairs, I bewilderedly asked into the phone, "Uncle Jake?"

"Sorry about that, Jane," he replied, already distracted from whatever had been hissed into his ear. "I have to go, but I'll call you tomorrow, alright?"

"Okay, be—" I tried to stay before the line clicked dead. "Careful," I whispered my finish to my lost goodbye and, with a heavy sigh, closed my cell phone and held it tightly within my grasp as I slipped out of the stairwell.

The corridor floor was blanketed with indigo blue carpet, the soft material cushioning the soles of my sneakers as I quietly maneuvered myself towards my front door. It was only a short walk, but in the thick, heavy silence resounding through the empty hallway, I was positive that it would take an eternity before I could finally return home. If it weren't for the lightweight material of my scrubs, sweat would surely have been building underneath my arms and beading on my back. Instead, moisture was only building on the back of my neck, right where my long-pony-tail was sticking to my pale skin. Once I put my groceries away, all I wanted to do was take an extensively long, hot shower, slip into some comfy pajamas, and finish my studying before I crashed.

Sighing in pure pleasure of the imminence of this eventual happening, I finally reached my front door and began to dig through my pockets for my key. It was only when my tired eyes lazily glanced down at the door knob that I realized I was wasting my time searching for my keys.

The door was already open a crack, a sliver of darkness tumbling through the gap of open air between the door and the wall.

For just a moment, I stood, frozen, before my open front door, my fingers still fruitlessly digging through my pockets for my needless keys. Shivers shuddered up and down my spine, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. Heavy pounding erupted within my sensitive ears; it only took me an agonizingly slow second to realize that it was the sound of my heartbeat.

Not even bothering to take in a calming breath, I tentatively relieved the heavy grocery bags from my aching arms onto the floor beside the open door and allowed a short moment to pass before I plunged my hand into my purse and grabbed ahold of the one possession I swore I would never leave home with—my father's pistol.

Clicking off the safety and firmly holding it in my grip, I allowed my mind and body to prepare themselves for whoever I would be confronting on the other side of the door before poking the soft wood of the door with the toe of my right tennis shoe. Silently I gently prodded it open, a short creak resounding throughout the still corridor as the empty foyer of my apartment met my gaze. Not hesitating for a second, I breathlessly stepped into my apartment, smothering the wild fear threatening to claw out of me as the darkness surrounded me, eyes peeled for any sort of movement.

Through the empty foyer and hallway, past my cramped kitchen and within my meager living room, there was not a single soul to be found. As soon as my mind registered this temporary relief, I was finally able to grasp the resounding trail the intruder had left within my apartment. Open, torn books littered the floor, my bookcase lying on its back and still shuddering from the horrific ordeal it had suffered through. My coffee table was upturned, shards of glass embedded deeply into the scratched, dark wooden floors and innocently glistening in the moonlight streaming through my open windows—my pale yellow curtains had been ripped from the wall, tattered beyond repair as they lay in pieces on the floor. My couch had been gauged, the cushioned shredded into undecipherable pieces as the bits of cotton lay all around my frozen feet.

It took all of my stubborn willpower to turn away from the horrible damage done to my home and continue down the twisted hallway. The sole door left that had to be checked was wide open, heavy darkness blanketing my entire pathway. Biting down hard upon my lip and barely realizing that I was drawing blood, I peeked around the corner and barely allowed myself a moment to blankly gaze at my ravaged bedroom—the mattress torn to pieces, the pillows scattered in ripped chunks as feathers littered the wooden floors—before turning away.

My ragged breaths billowed out before me but I refused to allow my fear consume me as it had so many times before. Mutely my fingers stretched into my pocket, dragging my phone out. I subconsciously began to type in an all-too familiar phone number, ignoring the whispers deep within me warning that I had vowed to myself that I would never dial that number again. Swallowing the lump in the back of my throat, I listened to the first ring before an agonizingly familiar, deep voice came to me.

"Hello?"

Parting my lips, I was startled to find that my voice had completely died in the back of my throat. Even in my fear of what had happened to my apartment, it took me a moment to move past the mixture of immense fear, sadness, muted anger, and pure joy at the sound of the voice. "Hello?" the voice repeated again, tinged now with slight annoyance.

"Derek?" I finally found myself saying.

At first, only silence met my ears, the lack of expression nearly causing me to nervously hang up the phone and try someone, anyone else instead of him. But, just as the idea crossed my mind, he quietly said, "Jane. I…I thought we agreed—"

"Please, Derek," I interrupted him, unwilling to have him push me away, not right now. My trembling fingers reached up to my pale cheeks, making sure that this wasn't all a horrible nightmare. When my touch eventually registered, I forced myself to shakily continue, "I need you right now. My apartment…I don't know what to do. I just…I need your help." Fresh tears abruptly budded in my eyes, embarrassment causing a blush to rush to my cheeks as I found myself close to sobbing into my phone.

Once more, Derek paused, the silence only filling me with my humiliation as I audibly sniffled and waited for him to say something, anything. Just when I was about to repeat his name, his quiet, firm voice filled my ear once more as he said, "I'm on my way."

And that is our chapter! I'm sorry it took a little bit more time than I expected—I just really needed to my schoolwork done before I turned back to this story. But I hope you all enjoyed it. Please don't forget to leave a review and let me know what you thought. Thank you so much for reading!