WARNING: Rated M because writer is a potty mouth, intense sexual situations, violence, and drug abuse.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything related to Teen Wolf or any of the song quotes I use at the beginning of the chapters.

A/N: This is a Derek/OC fiction. In my other Derek/OC called Fields Where I Run I said I wanted to write another Derek fiction! DN-1992 mentioned to me how they really wanted a Scott or Stiles sister fiction because she loves those! I got inspired to write one SO here it is. This is probably a little darker than a lot of the other sister fictions I've read out there (but I have a tendency to make my stories a little darker at times anyways). Scott's sister is a drug addict (soon to be recovering) so there are suggestive scenes towards her drug abuse! Hope you enjoy! ALSO UN-BETA'd. All grammar mistakes are mine. Oppsss!


I'm a wanderess

I'm a one night stand

Don't belong to no city

Don't belong down there


The familiar sight of the brick house brought a heavy weight on my shoulders. I sigh, adjust my grip on the handle of the luggage and tug it up the rest of the cracked pavement. My hand stutters as I raise a fist and knock on the oak door. I don't have a key, which is sad on an entirely different front. Who doesn't have a key to their mothers house at eighteen?

I wait a couple minutes. All the bedrooms were upstairs, it would take them a few moments to come down if they heard. I knock again.

Then I sit on the front step idly. Apparently no one is home. I don't expect them to be there, honestly. It's 12:45 on a weekday. My younger brother should be in school while my mother is most likely it work. Neither of them know I am here.

Growing jittery when some of the neighbors stalk past glancing at me confusedly, I decide to creep around the backyard. There is a lawn chair that I stretch out in. I glance at my cell phone and groan loudly when I realize only ten minutes have passed.

I start to dig around in the black purse that I had tossed beside me when I sat down. I pull out the familiar tiny white pill and pop it into my mouth. It slides down slowly without water.

Thirty minutes later I'm consumed with my mind. I don't think about how long it will take for them to come home, how much I left behind, how sad and fucked up I am. Instead, I spread my hands out in front of me and look through the gaps in my slender fingers at the cloudy sky above. My hands look like stars.

I wonder how long I stare at the sky imagining stars and glorious moments that aren't real?

Mom gets home first. I don't realize she had until she apparently went into the kitchen and begins to scream when she sees me lying in the backyard. I jump to my feet and walk to the screen door with a sheepish grin.

Her chocolate eyes are wide with fear and shock upon seeing me. A wooden bat is clutched tightly in her grasp where she looks ready to swing at any threat, but it clatters to the ground noisily as she tosses it to the side. Franticly she unlocks the doors and slides them open, she pulls me into her tight grasp.

I'm smiling teary eyed into her shoulder, my fists gripping the lavender scrubs she wore. Her fingers are rubbing at my back, my shoulders, and she's pulling back to stare into my eyes.

"Haldey, what are you doing here? Why didn't you tell me you were coming? I would have taken the day off," she bursts energetically while her hands run over my jean jacket affectionately.

I gave her a grin. "I didn't know I was coming."

Her hand grips at my chin to tilt my face towards her. I grimace as she catches sight of the nasty green bruise on my cheek and the stitches on my forehead. "Baby… what happened to your face?"

"Dad didn't tell you?" I ask, but I'm not surprised. It's common for my father and her late husband to forget important things like this.

She seethes, "No."

"I…" I bite my lower lip nervously. "I was in a car accident a few weeks ago."

Her head reels back. "A-a few weeks ago?"

I nod.

"Ohhhh-oh boy. When…" Her eyes are blacked out with rage. "When I talk to him…"

"It's okay Mom. I'm okay, it…" It was a huge deal. A huge fucking deal. My entire world is turned upside down and I can't tell what's right from left. "I'm in…" a million pieces and I don't know where to go from here. "Okay. I'm okay, Mom."

She glances down at the suitcase I have clutched in my firm grip. "How long are you staying?"

"I don't know," I tell her with a wince at my helpless tone. "I-I can't stay with him anymore. I can't be there anymore. I…" I'm not okay.

Smiling, she starts to push me towards the stairs. "Go put your things upstairs. I was going to fix Scott and me a sandwich before I head in for my second shift. I'm pulling a double today. Are you hungry?"

"Yes, please."

I tiptoe upstairs. The halls are lined with family photos. Most are of Scott, but there are a few of me. A smile creeps on my lips as I see an embarrassing one of Scott and I taking a bath together. I was four and he was two. I soaped his head up until it was pliable in forming his curly locks into devils horns atop his head, then used bubbles to give myself a long beard.

My room is the same as it always. Powder blue stripped sheets, floral print quilt, a desk in the corner of the room and a bookshelf beside it. Most of the books are those I read while younger: Harry Potter, A Series of Unfortunate Events, Nancy Drew, and various titles from my childhood. I toss my purse onto the quilt, grimacing with the amount of dust that clouded my vision. I hadn't stayed here since I was fifteen so I'm not surprised.


I turn to find a much taller and older version of my brother. He's still the the familiar curly mop atop his head, but he's definitely more muscular than I recall. I feel guilt as I recall the last time I saw him he was thirteen.

"Hey Scott," I greet with a warm smile. "It's nice to see you."

Scott's gaping at me. He looks at a loss of words, but finally manages to shout, "Your hair is blue!"

I hesitantly reach out and touch one the teal strands of my hair. The roots were a rich brown, the same color as Scott's and my mothers, but I had recently bleached the strands and put in the neon color.

"Yeah… I wanted a change," I say.

He laughs. "Well, it looks cool." I can hear the silent I guess in his tone.

"Come here." I don't wait for him, striding over and wrapping him into a deep hug. "I missed you."

Scott inhales deeply. "I missed you too."

"You're taller than me now," I observe.

"And you're shorter than me."

I scoff as he ruffles the top of my head like I'm the younger sibling, which I'm not. Ducking out of his grip I tickle his sides where I remember him being a little chunky and ticklish at thirteen, all I receive now is a familiar sharp giggle and hard muscle.

"When the fuck did you get so ripped?"

His cheeks darken to a deep red. "I wanted to make first line in lacrosse this year. I've been working out all summer."

"Well, you look great. Did you already have tryouts?"

He beams with glee as he informs, "I made first line!" I frown along with him as his smile drops. He doesn't say anything further, but he looks immediately depressed my his first line status for some odd reason.

"Isn't that a good thing?" I press.

He sighs. "Yeah… it's just…" shrugging, he glances towards the doorway. "Mom's done making the sandwiches. Let's go."

"How do you know she's-"

"Scott, Halden! Foods ready!"

I raise a brow and just reason Scott being able to predict the food being finished by familiarity. We trudge down the stairs and into the kitchen. Mom passes each of us a a sandwich with turkey, lettuce, tomato, and a huge slab of mayo.

"Does your father know you're here?" Mom asks while resting her lean elbows on the counter.

I shrug. "Maybe. I left a note on the fridge."

"You didn't think to tell him…?"

"Dad and I haven't talked in a few months."

The look of rage filled her face once more. "What do you mean by months?"

I swallow the bite of my sandwich before answering. "I moved out almost a year ago. I've been staying with him for a few weeks since the accident, but he hasn't actually spoken to me."

I didn't want to tell her why we haven't spoken. Unfortunately my father had just cause for ignoring me for as long as he has, and still is. I don't want my mother to ignore me too.

"Hm," is all she ground out. She shoved the rest of her sandwich in her mouth quickly, her eyebrows raised in that familiar 'pissed off' high territory. "I am going to go make a phone call. Make yourself comfortable, Halden." Pressing a kiss to my temple, she descends up the stairs leaving my brother and I alone.

"Mom said you were in an accident," Scott says.


He furrows his brows and gazes at me sternly. "What kind of accident? It's not a… boyfriend? Right?"

My nails tap along the marble countertop. "No-no, of course not."

He tilts his head to the side.

I clean up my mess and shoot Scott an uncomfortable grin. "I'm exhausted. I think I'm going to take a nap."

Scott just watches me walk up the stairs.

I don't sleep. I lie in the bed staring blankly at the ceiling, the pill still very effective in my brain. My mind feels open, exposed, and enlightened. I feel empty.

The alarm I set to remind me to use the bathroom goes off. I don't feel the need to go, but the pill makes you feel like you don't have to eat, use the bathroom, sleep. Pushing myself off the bed I enter the hallway at the same time as my mom leans against Scott's archway. I notice she cleaned up; her curly brown locks are now pulled back in a low ponytail, wearing dark purple scrubs, and a light blue sweater on top. She glances back at me with a quick grin.

"Hey, late shift again for me. But I am taking Saturday off to see your first game," she tells Scott with a proud grin.

Scott groans loudly. "Oh, Mom, you can't!"

I peer over her shoulder to see him sprawled across the bed quite similar to how I was moments ago, however he is on his stomach while I was on my back.

"Oh, no, I can and I will. Come on, one shift isn't going to break us… completely." She adds the last part softly. Scott blinks at her with blotchy red eyes. "Hey, what's wrong with your eyes? You look like you haven't slept in days."

I raise a brow. That's typically how my eyes look after taking the pill.

Scott shrugs, stuttering out, "Oh, uh, it's nothing. I'm just - stressed."

"Just stress?" She frowns. "Nothing else?"


"I mean, it's not like you're on drugs or anything, right?"

I don't need to see her expression to hear what she's actually saying. She spoke to Dad, he told her.

Scott raises a brow. "Right now?"

Mom backs up. "I'm sorry, what do you mean "right now"? Have you ever taken drugs?"

He narrows his eyes. "Have you?"

She exhales heavily, giving up on the argument. "Get some rest." She rounds on me next. "You too. You look like you can use a whole weeks rest."


When Mom disappears I glance in the room at Scott. He looks defeated as he stares idly at the floor like it's the cause of his demise.

"Something wrong little brother?"

He groans. "EVERYTHING!"

I rest my shoulder on the doorframe. "Want to talk about it?"

"I just…" Scott deflates. "I can't play the game on Saturday. And nobody understands."

Stepping into the room, I plop on the edge of the sixteen year olds bed. He rotates onto his back so he can stare at me. "Why can't you play?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he mutters angrily. "It's not like you care anyway. You haven't been around in years."

My back straightens and I glare down at him. "Hey. I'm not Dad. Don't talk to me that way. I didn't have a choice, just like you didn't. Guess what? I'm eighteen now and I came here."

"Yeah." He sits up and glowers. "Because Dad knows you're a druggie! And you have no place to go since your boyfriend's dead!"

I reel back as if the words physically slapped me. It felt like it, the ache in my chest pulsating angrily.

"That…" I stand, shaking as I hastily make my way out of the room.

"Haldey, I'm sor-"

"Save it, Scott. I know. I'm… I'm a terrible person. Sorry, I just… you're right. I have no one else other than Mom and…" I don't even have my brother. "I won't try, okay. If you don't want me to make up for anything, I won't. I promise."

I enter the bathroom and lock it quickly behind me. My feet give out as I slide to the floor and let myself silently cry. thissucksthissucksthissucksthissucks.

"Fuck," I groan, my hands fisting through my wavy strands frustratedly.

I stay sitting against the door for a long time before I remember my original plan to use the bathroom. I use it, then step back into the hall. There's a loud bang and Scott yelping.

Scott's voice filtered through the hall alarmingly, "They didn't see anything! I..s - swear, I-"

"And they won't! Because if you even try to play in that game on Saturday - I'm gonna kill you myself."

"Scott?" I question, my footsteps quickening towards his room when I read a deeper male voice. "Who the fuck is that?"

When I reach his doorway I see Scott standing at his window. It is open with the curtain billowing in eerily. His desk chair is tipped over and his computer screen is frozen with a younger boys face on it.

"Scott?" I ask again.

He quickly turns to me. "I fell out of my chair. It's nothing."

"You sure?"

When he eyes me silently I turn to go back into my room. I jump when his hand squeezes my shoulder. I stare back at him curiously.

"I didn't mean what I said earlier… I'm sorry about your boyfriend… and I-I want to help, I want you here," he whispers gently.

I hug him tightly. "I want to get better. I need to get better."

"Well… since Mom is coming, want to come to my game Saturday?"

Smiling, I answer with a broad grin, "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Later the next day I am sitting on the living room couch watching the Beacon Hills Newscast. It's entirely boring, but I'm high and don't really care. Scott's been at school the entire day and Mom has another night shift. I'm left alone. All. Freaking. Day.

I couldn't think of anything to other than sleep and then pop another pill. They typically keep me up for about twenty-four hours, which I prefer. Sleeping only leads to nightmares.

The door slams open and Mom comes in carrying takeout. She grins when she catches my eye from the couch.

"Chinese," she informs me. She sets the two bags on the table before she starts for the stairs. "Can you grab three plates and forks? I'm going to change. Scott said he was on his way home ten minutes ago."

Heading into the kitchen I grab the plates. I hear the front door slam open and close along with various other shuffling. As I return to the living room I watch Scott plop tiredly onto the couch. He is already digging through the takeout bags and sorting them out.

"Hey," I greet as I sit beside him on the couch. "How was school? And whatever else you do in your free time?"

Scott doesn't get a chance to respond. Mom is downstairs with an agitated scowl, her arms crossed and staring heatedly at Scott. "Do you want to explain to me why John called to let me know Stiles and you are a key witness in a murder case?"

"Mommmm," Scott drags out while he motions to the food.

She raises a single brow.

"Ugh, Scott and I were in the forest the other night-"

She scoffs, "-the other night?"

I blow at a breath and decide to make our plates for us. This is obviously going to be a huge fight that I'm thankfully not the center of.

"Stiles and I went out into the forest and I dropped my inhaler… So, we went back for it and we found a dead body buried by the Hale house!"

I cringe. "The Hale house? Really? That's awful. I remember them from elementary school."

"Well, you'll never guess who buried the body!" Scott exclaims.

He doesn't have to tell me. The news reporter starts declaring Derek Hale the prime suspect in the alleged murder of the Jane Doe. They also explain the police are doing DNA and blood tests to figure out if the supposed suspect, which they have in custody, is the murderer. They don't give a picture of Derek, instead a detailed drawing of him.

"He looks pretty hot," I decide.

Scott growls. Growls. Literally. I eye him warily and he coughs.

"He's a murderer," Scott points out.

"Accused," I say with a wink. "Not confirmed."

Mom rolls her eyes. "Seriously, Scott. If I hear anything like this again you are grounded. And no more going into the forest. What the hell were you thinking?"

"Stiles wanted to-"

"-I'm pretty sure Stiles isn't putting a gun to your head," Mom cuts him off as she sits in the spot beside me, placing me in the middle of the bickering duo.

"Not yet," Scott grunts.

I elbow him. "Who is Stiles?"

"His best friend," Mom educates with a grin. "You don't remember him? He used to talk your ear off."

"I thought his name was-"

Scott laughs, "-Stiles hates his real name. Don't call him that, ever."

"Duly noted."

"He come around a lot. Likes to climb through the window," Mom says exasperatedly. She leans forward to shoot Scott an irritable grin. "Tell him the next time he does that I won't refrain from hitting him with the bat. I'm upgrading to metal."

He snorts, "I'll let him know."

Mom finishes her meal then slowly trudges upstairs between her mutterings of bed and long day. Scott and I are left with the dull background noise of the news, which mostly repeated Derek Hale being suspected murder of Jane Doe (because Beacon Hills has nothing more interesting to report).

When I finish I feel awkward. I recall our conversation from the night before and decide to head up to my room.

Plunging face first onto the bed, I let myself be consumed with grief and loneliness. Neither are unfamiliar feeling for me. I've felt them as long as I could remember… from Dad's drunkenness, my parents divorce, growing up in a split home, living with Dad, dating Jacob, the car accident… and now.

It's the first time I'm disappointed in myself for my drug abuse. I tell myself that it isn't so bad. I pop a pill once every other day, I smoke weed every now and then, and maybe I shoot up when the opportunity arrises… so what?

So what if Mom looks at me like she lost something precious. So what if Scott doesn't want to be like me like other younger siblings strive to be like their older sisters and brothers. So what.

So what.

So fucking what.

Interested in what you guys think :)