Chapter Text
He hadn’t been quiet.
And that was the funny thing, wasn’t it? Because whenever someone talked about a serial killer they always said how they didn’t suspect it, how they had been so quiet. He had kept to himself, sure, but he hadn’t been quiet. Because believe it or not, but quiet actually drew more attention than smiling and charming and popular.
Of course he couldn’t keep it a secret from Laura, because Laura had always been there. Watching him carefully, asking him cautious questions, looking through his stuff when she thought he was out. One night he had even heard her on the phone with someone, some private investigator he found out later, sounding so desperate to believe that it couldn’t be him, there was just no way he was capable.
Except that he was capable.
And she knew it too.
To be completely honest, he had no idea when it started. It had started early, he knew that, but he didn’t know an exact day or month or year. It was almost as if one day he had woken up with this twitch in his right hand and this dryness in the back of his throat.
The first one had been easy, just a matter of going deep into the woods one Sunday morning, taking the pocket knife his father said that he should never be without, and sinking it into a tiny blue bird that was looking around the forest floor for insects. He had been fast and quiet and precise, slicing off the wing and beak, hiding the remains under leaves that had fallen to the ground. Afterwards he had cried, thinking about the bird and how he had just taken its life away. It had been tiny, probably just having left the nest.
But he had controlled it. He had controlled the end of that bird’s life. It had been concentrated and tangible and he had taken an open opportunity.
He headed back to the house, going to the water hose in the back by his aunt’s garden, and washing off his hands and knife. Laura had walked outside just as the blood washed off of his hands, red making the water turn pink. He had looked up, watched her blink a few times in confusion, before shaking her head and telling him to come inside.
It became something of a routine. Most people went to church and prayed every Sunday morning. He, on the other hand, sunk his knife into any living thing he could find. There were still times that he cried, over a rabbit or a chipmunk or another small bird. But the bigger the targets got, the less upset he got. The young doe he killed a year into it all had been a revelation.
Her eyes had been wide and fearful and just as she was about to dash off, he had thrown his knife, hitting her in the leg. She had stumbled to the forest floor, leg twitching as she tried to stand back up. He had walked slowly toward her before taking the knife out of her leg. She tried to stand again, but he was faster, knife driving into her chest again and again and again.
It wasn’t until she was dead, eyes frozen open, chest carved to ribbons, and blood spilling from her, brilliant and bright red, did he finally feel his hand start to still. The dryness in his throat was weaker as well and he felt new. He didn’t feel sad, he felt in control.
Hiding the body wasn’t something he had thought through. But would hiding it really be necessary? There were mountain lions in the preserve and it wasn’t uncommon for a doe to get killed by one. He had a knife and his art teacher always told him that he had a good eye. After long minutes of carving into the doe, he finally stepped back, satisfied that it looked like claws had ripped through the flesh.
His father had been convinced as well. The family went on hikes on random mornings, his mother waking him up early in the morning and almost dragging him out of bed. He pulled on his clothes, hair still tousled as he went into the kitchen, eating whatever his aunt had made for breakfast. Laura always wanted to be at the back of the group, walking slowly and taking her time and he usually joined her, too tired to charge forward with his father and uncle and younger cousins.
When they finally reached the body of the doe, the kids were instructed to stay back, to look away. His father had crouched down next to it along with his uncle, scrutinizing it.
“Mountain lion,” his father said sadly. “You can see the claw marks.”
“Yeah,” Peter nodded, standing back up.
Peter didn’t look as convinced though.
He looked at Laura who was looking at him with something like shock and it only took him half a second to realize that his mouth was twitched up in a grin. The corners of his mouth were then forced to turn down and he looked away, noticing the flock of his younger cousins all looking scared and curious.
“It’s so sad,” Laura said, turning away as well. “It was really young, probably tried to run away and couldn’t.”
Her words were a test, there was no way that they weren’t, and he didn’t know how to answer them. Everything that he said wouldn’t change her mind of what she thought, so it was best to just say the truth.
“There’s nothing you could have done, Laura,” he said. “You couldn’t have stopped it.”
“Stopped what?” she asked. “The doe dying or the mountain lion?”
“Both,” he shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets before heading toward the rest of the group.
That had been about a year ago and it still hadn’t slowed him down. There were more does and deer and even a mountain lion cub once. It was easy and there wasn’t a challenge and Laura continued to look at him with knowing and accusatory eyes. He loved his sister, she was his best friend and they told each other everything.
Well, he didn’t tell her about his Sunday ritual, but that was for good reason.
He was 15 and bored and there had been nothing but squirrels and rabbits surrounding him on that Sunday morning. They were allowed to live though, even if he killed hundreds of them, it wouldn’t stop his hand from shaking and his mouth feeling like sandpaper. Even does had stopped quenching his thirst, but he wasn’t stupid enough to try and go after an adult mountain lion.
It was taking hours of walking around and he was almost resigned to find a bird nest or something, when he heard talking. The voice belonged to a woman and she sounded panicked, probably talking into a phone instead of to herself.
“I’m off the trail,” she said. “I don’t know where I am and all of these trees look the same. Dammit, just come find me. I don’t care that you don’t get off work for a few more hours, find me.”
He followed the voice, hand gripping his knife in his pocket. He walked through a few thickets of trees before coming across a teenage girl, probably a year or two older than him, with perfectly curled blonde hair and wearing clothes that weren’t made for hiking. Part of him recognized her as a cheerleader from his school, the other part recognized her as a heartbeat.
Time to use the charming golden boy routine.
“Are you lost?”
She jumped, clutching her phone tighter and looking at him, her eyes wide. “Jesus, you scared me!”
“Sorry,” he shrugged, stepping toward her. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
The girl, Heather (he was pretty sure that was her name, he was also pretty sure that she was the captain of the cheerleading squad), tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, watching him closing. “Why are you out here?”
“My house is on the preserve,” he shrugged. “I was just taking a walk. I’ve lived here my entire life, I can help you get back on the trail.”
“Really?” she asked, still looking skeptical. “I mean, that’s nice, but my boyfriend—”
“Doesn’t get off work for a few more hours?”
“Uh, yeah,” she nodded. “He thought a walk through the preserve would be romantic. But I’m just cold and lost and—”
“I can show you the way out,” he pressed. “It’s no big deal.”
There was a pause and she looked down at her phone before looking back up at him. He knew what his reputation at school was; star player of the lacrosse team, the darling little brother of Laura Hale who had graduated last year. He was class president with straight A’s and teachers tripping over themselves to be the first to write him college recommendations in a few years. He was smart and trustworthy and kind and accomplished.
And apparently Heather knew that because she smiled at him, tucking her phone back into her pocket.
“I didn’t recognize you at first, but you’re Derek Hale, aren’t you?” she asked.
“That’s me.”
“I hear all about you at school,” she said. “Is it true that you’re part of like, 20 clubs?”
“More like eight.”
“That’s still a lot.”
They started to walk through the woods, away from the trail. She wouldn’t know where he was leading her. He’d have to be more careful this time. They would investigate the murder of a human, not like they would a doe.
And was he really going to do this? Kill another human being? Of course he was, this opportunity was too tempting to just let go.
“So, do you have a girlfriend?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m too busy.”
“That makes sense,” she nodded. “I bet girls are lining up though. Boys too, I heard. You’re really popular.”
“I never asked for popularity.”
“Asked for it or not, you’ve still got it.”
She was smiling broadly now and her voice was started to annoy him, his hand practically vibrating around the knife still in his pocket.
“I know you’re just a sophomore, but are you looking into colleges yet?” she asked. “Thinking of somewhere local? I bet you could get into Harvard if you—”
It didn’t matter that she was human. She bled just like a doe. Her eyes were wide and blood trickled out of her mouth and down the front of her coat. He withdrew the knife from her chest, stabbing her again once more time with the same depth to it. And again. And again. And again.
She fell to the ground and he continued, raking the knife through her body, making sure the cuts were jagged enough. Eventually he was satisfied and he just kneeled next to her, knife in his hand and blood seeping onto her coat and down onto the ground.
Derek stood up, frowning down at her before feeling something new well up inside of him. He was still and satisfied and calm. Everything was quiet and serene and he let out of deep sigh, a weight seemingly lifted from his shoulders.
The police found her body within a few days and Deputy Stilinski came around for questions soon. Derek admitted to taking a walk that Sunday morning, but lied about where he went. They didn’t suspect him though, he was 15 and Derek Hale and there was no way he was capable of hurting anyone. Besides, it looked like a mountain lion attack and they weren’t too concerned about a killer on the loose.
After the deputy had left, Derek had headed back upstairs to his room, running into Laura in the hallway. She was leaning against the wall, arms folded across her chest, and a frown on her face.
“It’s terrible what happened,” she said. “Heather was really sweet. She didn’t deserve it.”
“I’m pretty sure a mountain lion didn’t care that she was sweet, Laura.”
She looked away from him then, opening the door to her room and escaping inside.
Laura wasn’t a problem. She didn’t know anything for sure and she would never tell their parents about her suspicions. Besides, who would believe her?
After making his first human kill he didn’t go out for a few months. He forgot about it for a while. His hand didn’t shake and his wasn’t thirsty and Laura looked him in the eye again and he studied for tests and hung out with friends and played sports and just was. He deluded himself into thinking that he was done. That killing her had finished it.
Except that it hadn’t. He woke up one Sunday morning, when it was still dark outside and the entire house was quiet. His body shook and he couldn’t even swallow, something was blocking his throat. He got out of bed, walking to the hall bathroom and gulping down a cup of tap water. It didn’t help and he looked up at his reflection in the mirror.
He was pale and shaking and his eyes looked like they were bloodshot. It was like he was a druggie and the withdrawal had only then kicked in.
After slipping on a jacket and putting his shoes on, he headed outside, hand gripped around a pocket knife. He walked through the preserve almost in a daze, feeling like his body was possessed. There was a tent in the distance and inside the tent were a sleeping man and woman. And then they were screaming and then they were dead.
Derek was walking back from the tent, still shaking but better. His palms felt clammy, but his head was clearing. He could feel his heart pounded in his chest, heat creeping up on his cheeks.
It wasn’t until he slipped back into his bed, having washed off in the basement bathroom, that he realized he was hard. He groaned, tilting his head back against his pillow and sinking down into his mattress. His cock was aching and he stuffed a hand down his pants, bringing a hand around himself before jerking off.
The lack of lubrication didn’t even bother him. With just a few strokes he was coming, panting into the crease of his elbow and spots appearing in front of his eyes. He changed his underwear before curling back up in his bed and falling asleep.
Apparently killing two people kept it away even longer. The police were convinced that the second attack had been a murder, but Derek wasn’t even close to being a suspect. They never found the killer and soon the case was dropped.
Laura still looked at him with fear, but he learned to ignore it.
He was 16 and just starting his junior year when he met her. She was eight years older and beautiful and smart. Her name was Kate Argent and her family ran a private detective agency. The couple in the woods’ family had hired the Argents to do what the police had given up on. Kate had been their elected agent for the case.
She came to the Hale house first, interviewing all of them separately. After all of the adults, Derek was next and he was more than ready. Nothing pinned him to the murder other than the fact that he lived in the woods and his entire family did as well. There was nothing to worry about.
“Take a seat, Derek,” Kate said once he entered the living room, motioned toward the couch across from the armchair she was sitting in. “I’m assuming you know why you’re here.”
“Yeah, you think someone in my family killed that couple in the woods.”
“I do,” she nodded. “And your sister thinks that you did it.”
Derek looked up at that, panic curling up inside of him, but trying his best to turn the panic into confusion.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“You are,” he said. “Laura wouldn’t say that—you’re just saying that to see if I would panic or not.”
“And do you have a reason to panic?”
“No,” he said. “I didn’t kill anyone.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“Well I am.”
“But can you prove that you didn’t kill anyone?”
“I was asleep just like everyone else,” Derek said. “I can’t prove that I wasn’t.”
She watched him for a few moments, being careful to look outraged and angry. He had killed those people so he didn’t have a reason to be outraged and angry, but his innocent façade did.
Kate wrote something down on a notepad before leaning forward.
“Do you have any idea who would do this?” she asked.
“No,” Derek said. “Why would someone kill two people in the woods? Maybe it was a personal grudge.”
“The couple owned a bakery in town, they were nice, peaceful,” Kate said. “Not a lot of enemies there.”
“Everyone has secrets.”
“Do you?”
“I said everyone, didn’t I?”
She leaned back against the chair, the corner of her mouth tugged up into a grin. Kate closed her notepad before standing up, shaking her head.
“You’re smart,” she said. “And kind of a brat. But you didn’t do it.”
He watched her leave, slipping on her coat and talking to his parents before heading to the foyer. His parents had been so annoyed by her coming there, not understanding how anyone in their family could be a murderer. Derek left the living room, seeing Laura standing across the hall.
“That was a waste of time,” he said.
“Yeah,” she nodded. “Pointless.”
The first time he fucked Kate was a week later. He was the captain of the lacrosse team and he had gotten a girlfriend, Maggie. Well, it was more like Maggie had come up to him saying that it made sense for them to date since they were the two most popular people in their class and he hadn’t any reasons for them not to.
He told Kate about it in her bed in her apartment or in the backseat of her car or wherever else they could find. She thought it was funny, high school relationships and petty drama. Her laugh rubbed him the wrong way though, and he would clamp a hand over her mouth before driving back into her, her nails digging into the skin of his arms.
His first time with Maggie had been a lot tamer. She had a party at her house since her parents were gone for the weekend and he had spent the night. It had been cliché and almost painful to go through, trying not to make a face at the bright pink lace underwear she had clad herself in. He had played the part of the blushing virgin perfectly, fumbling with her bra strap and the condom and not getting the right angle on purpose.
She had told him that it would get better, rubbing a hand up and down his back soothingly.
The next day he had gone to Kate’s apartment, grabbing her as soon as she opened the door and fucked her against the wall. No amount of mindless fucking could stop the twitch from coming back though. He needed to make another kill and soon.
It was Sunday morning and he was getting ready to head out. Maybe he would drive to a different town, start spacing out his kills. He did know that he couldn’t risk another hiker or camper in the woods.
But the woods were his place though. They were sacred and his and the bloodshed there was what he needed. But what could he get rid of? What was something that would help the twitch?
The thought hit him like a ton of bricks and he groaned, his mouth twitching up into a grin. That’d be perfect. Everything about that would be perfect. Was it too soon though? Should he really act so quickly on something so grand?
Of course he should.
The twitch would have to wait for a week though because knifing everyone in the house wasn’t an option. He needed supplies and it was going to take a while to get everything.
Kate was a great way to let out all of his pent-up aggression though. It was Saturday night and she wouldn’t stop kissing him even though he had just fucked her into the mattress. Her hands were tangled in his hair and she was smiling against his mouth before leaning away.
“I can’t wait until you’re 18,” she said. “We won’t have to hide then.”
“Yeah,” he said absentmindedly. “That’ll be great.”
He sat up, looking at the pile of his clothes on the floor. Tomorrow was the day and he needed to be well-rested for it.
“You don’t seem very happy about going public,” she said. “Does this have to do with Maggie?”
“No,” he said. “I just don’t like lying to my parents.”
“You’re such a good boy,” Kate said. “I loved lying to my parents. Still do.”
Derek left soon after that, heading back to the house and trying not to think about Kate. He liked her, but what they had wasn’t permanent. Maybe one day she would be the one he killed, but that wouldn’t be for a while.
The next morning he woke up early, grabbing all of his supplies and getting started. To make it look like he had just been out for a walk he couldn’t take anything of importance with him. He couldn’t save anything that he wouldn’t take with him on a walk.
Everyone was asleep, completely unaware and ignorant and he thought about it before he lit the match. Did he really want to do this? Did he really want to kill his entire family? He would never get them back, never be able to see them again.
But the twitch had gotten so bad and the gasoline was already poured and there was nothing else he could do now. This might not cure him, but it would help for years.
He lit the match, started the fire, and ran into the woods. He ran as fast as he could, distancing himself and repeating his story again and again. He always took a walk every Sunday morning, something his mother had told almost everyone in Beacon Hills. He had been gone for just an hour. He smelled smoke and the house was in flames.
The story wasn’t foolproof, but no one would think he did it. He was Derek Hale, he wouldn’t kill his entire family, he wasn’t capable of doing such a thing.
Everything would be fine, everything would be perfect, everything except for Kate running toward him. She wrapped an arm around his middle, tackling him to the ground and kneeing him in the stomach.
“You little shit,” she hissed. “I already called the fire department and when they get here—”
“They’ll put out a search for who burned my family alive,” he said. “And then they’ll find your body after you killed yourself.”
She let out a hysterical laugh at that, tilting her head back and shaking her head.
“You’re insane and such a little idiot,” she said. “Everything between us was fake, we both know that, but you’re… hard. Derek, you’re—”
Another hysterical giggle burst from her lips and she reached her hand down, cupping him through his jeans. Her eyes widened as she applied pressure, gaining a low groan from him.
“You sick little fuck,” she breathed. “You get off on this. Is that why you do it? Is this the only way that makes you feel complete, Derek? Are you really that pathe—?”
He pushed her over, pushing her onto her stomach and straddling her back. Gripping her hair, he pulled her back, gripping his knife tighter and stabbing her in the stomach.
Derek wiped the knife handle before positioning it in her hand and then getting off of her. He ran in the direction of the smoke that was coming from the sky, only stopping to lean against a tree, pushing his pants down and jerking off frantically.
His feet felt like jelly as he continued to run, running until he reached his house where there were fire trucks parked outside. He fell to his knees, looking up at the burning building and was soon surrounded by people.
“Are you all right?” Deputy Stilinski asked. “Do you know what happened? Do you know who did this?”
“My family…”
A sorrowful look came over the deputy’s face and he looked at other deputies that were started to crowd around them.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Your uncle is being taken to the hospital right now and your sister is safe, just a few minor burns. Everyone else…”
Peter and Laura were still alive.
Shit.
“My sister,” he said. “Where is—?”
“I’ll take you to her, come on,” Deputy Stilinski said, guiding Derek through the throng of people and vehicles.
Laura was sitting on the back of the ambulance, her arm burned and breathing through an oxygen mask. She saw him and her eyes went wide and he wondered. Would she turn him in? Would she tell everyone what he had down? She knew, she had always known and—
“Derek! Thank God,” she said, pushing a paramedic aside and taking the mask from her face. She stood up on shaky feet and hurried toward him, wrapping her arms around him and gripping the back of his shirt. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought you’d done this. But it was Kate Argent. She called the fire department, they’re looking for her. She has a case of arson, she was in a mental ward, and I thought it was you this entire time, but it wasn’t. You’re just my baby brother and you’re all… Oh God, you’re all I have left.”
She was crying into his chest, tears making the shirt cling to him. He didn’t care though, wrapping his arms around Laura and forcing tears to come as well. She believed in him. She thought he was innocent. He could still save Laura for later. This wasn’t all lost.
Peter was comatose and put in a nursing home. Kate’s body was found and the murders were all pinned on her along with her own suicide. Derek got a tattoo after the fire and Laura had scolded him for it, going with him and glaring as the black triskelion was etched onto his back. They moved to New York, far away from Beacon Hills, far away from everything.
Laura got a job as a waitress and they got a shitty apartment and he finished high school and applied to Yale. He didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life, but being a surgeon had always been appealing to him.
The twitch was gone for years and sometimes he went days without even thinking about it. Laura was his best friend and older sister again and he made good grades in school and had casual relationships with men and women that didn’t have any consequences.
They were falling into an easy routine and he liked it. He liked the normalcy and the easiness and absence of pressure.
Derek was 22 and had just finished his last semester of college, graduating a semester early, when a pamphlet was put on the table in front of him.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“There’s a great med school just 20 minutes outside of Beacon Hills,” Laura said.
“Beacon Hills?”
“Yeah,” she nodded. “I want to go back.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s our home,” she said. “And Peter’s there and I’m tired of running and I don’t feel like we belong here.”
“I feel like I belong here.”
“Really?” she asked. “You haven’t been putting down any roots, Derek.”
She did have a point. New York wasn’t home, it was a distraction. This wasn’t who he was. He knew who he was and this wasn’t it. Beacon Hills was where his woods were, where the roots he had already planted were. Metaphorically speaking of course.
“I’ll think about it,” he said, taking the pamphlet and standing up.
He didn’t think about it though because he already knew. A few days later he’d made his decision and Laura had been more than happy about it. It was early January and he wasn’t going to start attending med school until the fall, giving him months to get a job and an apartment in Beacon Hills on his own.
They got jobs in town easily enough, but continued to live together until they both had enough money to be independent. After a few weeks of pestering, Laura finally convinced him to visit Peter.
The nursing home was empty and sterile and unnerving. His hand started twitching in the pocket of his jacket, but he stopped it. He probably still had years left, it was fine.
Half of Peter’s face was burned and mangled and he was in a comatose state, just blankly staring out of the window of his room. Derek took a seat next to him, just sitting quietly with his hands folded in his lap.
“You know, don’t you?” he asked. “You’ve always known. Ever since we found that doe in the woods. I’ve always wondered why you never turned me in. I’m not going to question it too much though; I don’t want to jinx anything.”
He leaned back in his chair, looking at Peter who was still completely unresponsive.
“I am going to kill you,” Derek said. “Someday. Not sure when, but I will. Laura too. It’s nothing personal; it’s just something I have to do.”
There was a clatter from the hallway and he looked behind him, seeing Laura standing there.
“You… No, Derek, this isn’t—” she started, frantically shaking her head.
And then she ran.
Of course he had to go after her. He could still give her a head start though.
He calmly left Peter’s room about 20 minutes later and signing out at the front desk with a different time and then heading outside. Laura’s Camaro was already gone and he calmly got into his own car, driving toward the apartment.
She was putting her things in her car when he got there.
“Going somewhere?” he asked, getting out of his own car and walking toward her.
Laura looked up at him, her eyes wide in fear before backing away from him.
“I don’t know why, we just moved in,” he said.
“Derek, you were lying to Peter, weren’t you?” she asked. “There’s no way you killed those people. It was Kate.”
“No, I killed them and Kate,” he shrugged. “And now I guess I have to kill you.”
She crumpled against the car door, shaking her head. “This isn’t you.”
“Of course it is.”
“You’re so smart, Derek,” she said. “And you’ve always had friends and a life and you’re going to be a surgeon and heal people. Derek, you can’t do that if you kill me.”
“Sure I can,” he said. “No one’s going to catch me.”
He knocked her out first and then lifted her into the passenger seat of the Camaro. No one saw and if they did he could just claim that she had had too much to drink and was taking her home. Everyone in the apartment complex were strangers and none of them knew anything about Derek and Laura Hale.
Derek drove to the preserve to finish the job.
It was his best work yet, cutting her body completely in half and finding mountain lion hairs to disperse over both parts of the body. Once he was done he headed back to the apartment to sleep.
The next day he headed to his old family house, walking through the burnt husk of a house and then the surrounding forest. He found an inhaler close to where half of Laura’s body was. He pocketed it.