Killer | Derek Hale

SURVIVOR

"It literally just poofed away!"

"I don't know if poofed is the most accurate word," Scott argued.

"It disappeared in a puff of black smoke using its mind," Stiles stated, "I think that poof works just fine."

Lydia held her hands up to stop them both, "It doesn't matter what it did. We just need to find out what it's going to do."

Argent nodded in agreement, "It doesn't need Maia as a host anymore since it has physically manifested. It has free rein now."

"But she knows everything it's planning," Kira reminded, "She'll know the next move, right?"

"Why don't we just ask her?" Malia questioned. She gestured through the kitchen door in the direction of the living room.

Outside, Maia and Derek sat on the couch. He was holding her hands and making sure she was warm. Despite his touch and the blanket she had, she was still shivering.

Stiles shook his head at his girlfriend, "I don't think she can handle any questions right now."

He glanced at the pair briefly.

Maia was zoning out, still stuck in her mind. She was tempted to believe this was just another trick. That it was a vivid nightmare designed to give her hope before ripping it away again.

Derek squeezed her hands gently, reminding her that he was there. Her gaze shifted to him for a second. She felt the guilt hit her and she averted her eyes, keeping her head bowed.

"Maia, talk to me," he pleaded, "What can I do to help?"

She scoffed and retracted her hands from his grip. Her faced twitched in disbelief, "Why? I don't deserve your help."

"Yes, you do," he argued.

"I hurt you!" she snapped, "I tried to kill your friends. You should hate me."

"I hate that you're shutting me out," he corrected.

She groaned and ran a hand down her face in frustration, "I'm trying to protect you!"

"I don't want your protection, I want you!"

Her face fell and she looked to the side to avoid facing him. The tears brimming her eyes came easily and she struggled to keep them at bay.

He sighed and tried to ease the tension, "It wasn't your fault."

"But it was," she whispered, "All of it."

She looked at him nervously.

"It was my weakness that allowed it to take over. I was so consumed with anger and pain and I-" she choked on her words, "I wanted everyone else to feel it. All of that darkness was mine."

He shook his head and wiped the tears that rolled down her cheek, "It manipulated you. You are not weak. If anything, you're strong because you survived."

"After you saved me."

"I'm not talking about the possession."

Her face lifted.

"When I was in your mind, I saw memories of your childhood. Everything you've gone through. And you know what I saw?" he questioned rhetorically, "A fighter. A survivor."

She closed her eyes as his hands moved to cradle her face sweetly.

"You are not weak," he said firmly, "You're Maia freaking Arceneaux and you are a survivor."