Tall, Dark and Handsome meets Almost Tall, Fair-Skinned and Sarcasm {Sterek}

Chapter 29: Not alone

"What? No!" I burst on Derek's behalf, trying to refrain from crawling into the guys lap to protect him from my dads piercing gaze. "He's a born werewolf, and he's not an alpha." I said, as if both things were blatantly obvious.

They weren't, evidently.

"Born?!" Dad's disbelief was back in full force. He was riding one helluva roller coaster today.

He stepped back a little in shock, and Derek sagged against my side in relief. My dads hand moved to his hair, showing that nervous habit I had picked up from him. He stared unseeingly at Derek, his mind clearly reeling. We all stayed quiet, letting him work through it however he needed to. He finally checked back in, his eyes meeting Derek's again in a question.

"Maybe you should take it from here, Der," I encouraged. He knew more than any of us, he was born into it.

Derek glanced between the rest of the rooms occupants before squaring his shoulders and nodding once.

"Werewolves can be born or bitten," he started, looking directly at my father. "I was born. My mother was a werewolf, my father human. All of my siblings were werewolves. But, some of my cousins had a werewolf parent and were born human. There's no way to tell which it will be. My family was made up of both humans and werewolves."

I let that sink in myself, because I'd never heard Derek talk like this before either. Talk about his family. Normally, it was a strictly no-fly zone. My dad was nodding along, slowly moving back to his chair as he sank into the explanation Derek was providing.

"Bitten wolves can only be made by an alpha," he continued matter of factly, "Scott and I are both beta's. But the bite doesn't always work..." he trailed off, his eyes flickering to Scott for a moment. "It either changes you, or it kills you."

A shiver travelled down my spine as I swallowed the lump in my throat. That wasn't something we'd known about. Scott and I made eye contact, sharing in the unsettling fact that he just as easily could have died. I could have killed my best friend all because I wanted to find a stupid, dead body. I am such an idiot.

"Who bit Scott?" Dad asked instantly, and he looked just as shaken as Scott and I felt.

"We don't know," Derek answered, a note of frustration in his tone. Scott and I shared in that sentiment, it was a mystery that had been driving us all mad.

"How many of you are there?" Dad asked wearily, meaning werewolves.

Derek shrugged, "I don't know, lots," he answered honestly, "But in Beacon Hills? As far as I know, just Scott and I. And whoever bit him."

"Okay... so what does being a werewolf mean? Besides the excess facial hair, fangs, claws and glowy eyes?" Dad continued with his unrelenting questions, probably picturing a wolf howling at the moon. He wouldn't be wrong.

"Super speed, strength, healing, heightened sense of sight, smell and hearing," I ticked off my fingers as I answered for Derek, "and they can smell emotions." God, I really did hate them sometimes.

Dads eyes widened as he contemplated this new information. Likely thinking of ways he could make use of them to help solve cases- it was something I'd already considered myself. A handy dandy little tracker wolf on demand.

"Can you change into actual wolves?" He wondered, surveying Scott and Derek a little wearily.

"Most can't," Derek shrugged again, and my head snapped in his direction.

"Most?!" I demanded, excitement spiking as I clutched onto his arm, "some werewolves can change into actual wolves?!"

Derek turned to me, gracing me with a crooked little smirk, "My mother could. She was convinced I would be able to do the same some day."