Derek Hale Imagines

All About Power

The scent of blood is everywhere, and you cannot escape it. It cuts through your mind in blunt strokes, carving one thing into your head again and again: if you were just a little faster, you could have stopped this. But you weren't, and now you have to deal with the fact that your entire family is dead and gone.

You're not sure when you fell to the ground, legs collapsing as if your strings had been cut. Your knees feel numb now, but you can't tell whether that's from spending so long crouching or from the cold river of blood spread across the floor. Regardless, you don't feel as if you'll ever move again, and that is exactly how Derek Hale finds you.

You don't know he's there until he steps forward, out of the shadows of your darkened home and into the light. His face is somber, not quite detailed with guilt or sympathy but regret, maybe. You look slowly up at him, heedless of the tears that have long since dried on your cheeks.

"Who are you, and what do you want?"

Your tone is harsh. You don't know who this man is, but you want nothing to do with him.

He, however, is unperturbed by this. "My name is Derek. I can help."

He doesn't say what he can do to help, which just makes you laugh. It's a quiet, broken sort of sound, and barely makes it out of your throat at all. "What could you possibly do to help?"

Derek squats beside you on the ground, hands folded in front of him. "I can make you strong, so strong that nothing like this has to happen again. I can get you a chance at revenge."

You blow out a harsh breath. "Revenge is the stuff of movies. Nothing I can do will erase this."

Derek shrugs. "I wouldn't be too sure about that. You know this wasn't a normal killing, right?"

You look up at him, startled, but as soon as the words pass his lips you know that he's right. There are no bullets, no stab wounds, just general ripped and shredded flesh, blood drenching everything. Something about this isn't right, and you know it. Derek knows it too.

Sensing his advantage, Derek presses on. "It was done by a creature called the kanima. It's supposed to be a person that can turn into a beast when it wants to kill, like tonight."

He gestures at the scene around him, and your eyes follow the movement. "So, what, you think it was some sort of monster? That can't be real."

Derek looks back at you now, gaze suddenly piercing. "Neither am I."

A second later, his eyes glow a brilliant red. You stumble back, surprised, but don't run. You should run, you think, but some part of you sticks around. "What do you want from me?"

Derek stands up, dusting off his hands. "I'm a werewolf. I can make you one, too. By being a part of a pack, you stay strong. That's how we kill the kanima."

He extends a hand to you, and after a moment, you take it. "Sounds like a deal to me."

It's a rash choice, to be certain, but it seems like the only one you have. A chance at getting back at the thing that killed your family, and finding a new family in the process. You don't regret a thing.

It's late in the afternoon, and you are alone. You've been doing your best to distract yourself, but you can ignore the pain in your arm no longer. Locking the door behind you, you pace back and forth in front of your bathroom mirror before giving up and rolling up your sleeve to reveal a large bite mark, not unlike that of a wolf. It's healed remarkably well in the last few hours, and seems as if it'll disappear completely by the end of the day.

Last night almost seemed like a dream, and you would think that the whole exchange was a nightmare brought on from grief were it not for the bite mark still visible on your arm. Derek Hale is real, the whole thing is real. You're a werewolf. Two days ago, you didn't even think they existed, and now you're one of them.