i'm everyone's type

So, the run-in with Mr. Argent had freaked Jackson out a little bit. But not out of working for his goal, nope. More like he wanted it twice as bad, now. He needed to have more power. In fact, he deserved it. But until McCall came through, he'd be surviving on what he had going for him on his own. And that... Well, that had led him to spend some of his evening at the school gym, furiously lifting weights while music blared.

Until it no longer did. He dropped the weights and got up, rounding the lockers to see someone sitting on the bench next to his now-empty iPod speaker dock. But the mystery person had his back to the lockers, so Jackson couldn't make out who it was in the semi-darkness of the room. "What the hell?" he demanded. It couldn't be Danny, or anyone else from the team. They knew better than to mess with his music. Unlike this guy. "Hey," the mystery man said. "I like your taste in music." The voice... It wasn't unfamiliar to Jackson, but it also wasn't clicking, not yet. The man returned his iPod into the dock. "I haven't heard this one in a long time," he said, and then he turned to look back at Jackson, and it was Derek Hale. Of course it was Derek Hale. Like Jackson hadn't dealt with enough creeps today already.

He grabbed a lacrosse stick that had been resting against the lockers. "I'm not scared of you." Derek got up, and started walking towards him. He held the stick in front of him, amde sure he had a good grip. "Come on." Unfortunately, Derek was doing just that. Jackson made sure to keep his chin up, anyway. He had nothing to be afraid of, here. He even said it out loud. "I'm not afraid." But once Derek got right in his face, he stumbled back, even if it was just half a step, and Derek smiled. "Yeah," he said, "you are." Jackson shook his head but that did nothing.

"You know," he continued, "I bet you haven't had a day in your whole life where you haven't been afraid of something."

Jackson wanted to argue vehemently. But all he could think about was not showing fear right at this moment. His breathing sounded loud to his own ears, even over the music. And Derek was still watching him.

"But you won't have to be anymore. Not when you're one of us."

... Wait, what? Jackson swallowed, but didn't manage to get the words out. He didn't need to, though. "I can give you what you want," Derek said. "I can take you to the Alpha."

Surprised, Jackson could do nothing but nod.

-----

Some time later, Jackson, with Derek trailing right behind him, was walking towards what had to be the old Hale house. If you could call it a house. It was more like a burned out husk, looking like it could fall apart at any minute. "This is it?" Jackson asked, looking at Derek over his shoulder. "This is the place?" It didn't look... It didn't look magical enough. That was a dumb way to put it, but it would have to do. Derek just nodded, and said, "Go ahead." He sounded more sincere than Jackson had ever heard him sound – even if the Derek he'd been talking to most of the time before was the one in Fandom.

It was enough to relax Jackson just enough that when he took a few steps closer to the house, he narrowed his eyes and voiced the dry concern it evoked in him. (Or maybe, he was just stalling.) "Is it safe? I don't want rafters falling on my head."

"Go ahead," Derek simply said again, nodding towards the house. So, Jackson moved ahead, up the steps to the door. Close up, the house looked even worse, and he felt like he could still smell the smoke, coming from the walls. The boards creaked under his feet. Seriously, how was this the place where he'd be made faster, better, stronger? He glanced back at Derek, who just waved him onwards. And so Jackson got to the door. He could feel his heart racing, his thoughts were a mess. Things were happening fast, now.

What was he doing?

He turned to look at Derek again, but it took a moment to form a question. "What's in here?" was what he managed to ask. "Everything you want," came the reply, like a verbal shrug. Vaguely reassuring, but not really. Jackson looked at the door, reached for the doorknob, hesitated. Then he turned it, the door opening to reveal nothing much but darkness. Stairs straight ahead. He jumped just a little when Derek put his hand on his shoulder. "It's gonna be all right." He pushed Jackson forward, into the house. "Trust me."

Jackson wasn't really sure he did, but he walked further into the house, looking around. Some light got in through uncovered windows, although it was still hard to make out much but the very outlines of anything. And yet, Jackson still just sort of knew how everything looked. Slowly, while Derek shut the door behind them, he realized he'd seen this all before. "This house," he said. "It's the same h-house."

This caught Derek's attention. "What'd you say?"

"I've dreamt about this place." Well, he'd had nightmares about it. Very vivid nightmares. With fire. "I–– I remember the staircase, I remember these, these walls. I remember... everything."

"You've been here?"

Jackson turned around, sensing something bad in Derek's tone. "No, never," he said, shaking his head. "I dreamt it." Derek was frowning at him, with a look that –– Oh, God. Jackson had screwed up, hadn't he? Not just now, but before. When he'd decided to come here. "There's no one else here," he said. It didn't come out as a question, although the next thing did, after Derek had shaken his head and confirmed it. "And no one else is coming?" If his heart had been beating fast before, it got even worse now. And not just that, but he could feel the stinging in his eyes. Was this how he was going to die? Here, in this house that was barely standing? Derek was advancing on him, claws out now. He stumbled backwards, and fell on his ass on the stairs, instantly panicked. "No, please, please don't, okay?" he pleaded, his voice unsteady. "I'll shut up, I'll never say another word again. I'll leave Scott alone." Derek loomed over him, silent. "Please, you can't do this! Please! I..." There were tears on his cheeks. If he survived this, he'd feel humiliated. But for now, he was honestly, sincerely scared. "I don't deserve it."

"I think you do," Derek said, nothing left of the almost-friendliness from before. "Look around you!" he snapped, before Jackson had really had time to utter a shaky 'no'. "Wouldn't there be someone here trying to save you? There's no one here. There's a reason: no one cares that you drive an expensive car. No one cares that you have perfect hair, and no one cares that you were captain of the lacrosse team!"

He made it sound like it was a ridiculous thing to be proud of, and maybe in that moment (and that moment only) Jackson agreed. He didn't care about any of that. He just wanted to get out of here. But he didn't get to continue his pleading, because there was a voice from the top of the stairs.

"Excuse me," Scott said. "Co-captain."

He leapt from the top of the stairs all the way down to the bottom, where he landed between Jackson and Derek with a thud, but on his feet. When he looked back at Jackson, his face was the same as it had been that night on the beach in Fandom. And Derek growled, his face equally distorted by werewolf features now. Jackson found himself feeling paralyzed. Just watching this unfold. "Move!" Derek growled at Scott who was crouched in front of him. To McCall's credit, he didn't budge. "No."

"Fine, I'll kill you too," Derek replied, but just as soon he'd said that, all hell broke loose. Something flew into the house and exploded in a flash – and then there were bullets. From, Jackson would later guess, assault rifles. He didn't stay to guess, though. As soon as Scott and Derek had hit the floor, he was scrambling off the stairs and towards the back of the house, and he didn't stop moving. He found a back door, forced it open, and then he was running literally for his life through the woods.

Fandom Island had nothing on Beacon Hills.

[ooc: NFB, NFI, OOC-okay! Thus concludes TW S01E10, although there'll be more posts coming for a couple more days. Bear with me.]