Little Bundle Bereft of Joy

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or any of its character. All original characters are mine. Any resemblance to persons real or fictional is entirely coincidental.

"Hello Mr. Hale. My name is Elizabeth Blackthorn, secretary at St. Helen's Boarding School for girls. You are a very difficult man to get a hold of."

Derek raised his eyebrow in bemusement as he listened to the speaker on the other side of the line. Those certainly had not been the words he had been expecting to hear when answering the number to some boarding school up in Oregon. He had assumed it was a wrong number and was going to tell them as such, but then, the female had spoken and, rather obviously, known exactly who he was. Or at the very least, she had definitely meant to call him.

"I wasn't aware anyone was that desperate to contact me," Derek said in the least sarcastic voice he could muster. Normally, he wouldn't have cared, but today, he was tired and had no desire to deal with an annoyed female, even if it was just over the phone.

"Well, normally we would contact Ms. Argent as she is Hannah's primary guardian," the school secretary said in a voice that was attempting to sound patient, but to any werewolf, it would have been patently obvious that she was very annoyed. "However when we called her last place of residence, we were informed that she has passed on. Since you never showed up for Hannah, we had to find a way to contact you. As much as we love children here, we simply cannot allow them to remain all summer. Therefore, I would like to know when you will be able to come pick up your daughter."

"My daughter?" Derek asked in a voice so calm that it was borderline terrifying. He had stopped moving, his posture so rigid he looked like a statue and the tension in the room was suddenly so thick it might as well have been a brick wall, and he was alone. If he hadn't known instinctively how important it was for him to keep his head together for this conversation, he suspected that his voice would have frozen from the shock as well. "Ms. Argent never deemed to inform me that I have a daughter, much less one that is attending your boarding school."

"You are listed on file as the father," she told him, in a matter of fact tone. "We cannot release her to anyone but you. If you want to do a paternity test, you will have to do it on your own time. We simply cannot keep her here. So, either you come get her, or we contact the police and put her in foster care."

"When was she born?" Derek asked with a groan, knowing he could never abandon the child like that if she really was his. He wasn't that kind of man, even if he did hate the child's mother with his entire being. Derek wouldn't let the girl...his daughter suffer for what her mother did.

"December 11," the secretary answered. "She turned six last winter."

Derek wasn't sure whether to laugh at the irony or cry for so many other reasons. Because based on the time he and Kate had been sexually active, it was so very possible that this Hannah really was his daughter, and he had never smelt any evidence that suggested Kate had slept around while they were together. In all likelihood, Derek had just been informed by a complete stranger that he had a six year old daughter.

"I can come pick her up today," Derek replied as he ran his free hand through his hair, letting out another sigh. He wasn't ready to be a father, but he doubted anyone who suddenly found themselves in the same situation would be. However, he was thankful that, at the very least, he would be able to take care of her financially. Derek would forever mourn the loss his entire family. Even now, the mere thought of what had happened tore his heart in half, but the insurance money that had finally come through, only after the police had officially written Kate Argent down as the arsonist and closed the case, would allow him to take care of all Hannah's needs. "It will take me several hours to get there."

"That's fine," she informed him. "We will have Hannah packed and ready to go by this afternoon. I look forward to meeting you, Mr. Hale." Then, she hung up the phone without even saying good-bye as though she were afraid that Derek would change his mind. Sighing, the alpha hung up his phone and headed back out of his apartment. If he was going to get to the boarding school before dark and not keep his daughter waiting longer than necessary, he needed to head out as soon as possible. But Derek really didn't feel like he could do this on his own. If nothing else, he needed moral support, but his pack was comprised of a homicidal uncle and a bunch of teenagers who each had at least one deep psychological issue. Who should he ask to go with him?

He loved his pack, really, he did, but they had yet to learn to completely control their wolves. He didn't want them instinctually reacting to his almost guaranteed to volatile emotions when they reached the school. Well, Isaac was pretty close to having as total control over his wolf as any were could, but Derek wasn't ready to trust him with something of this magnitude yet. Scott was automatically off the list because he was dating Allison Argent, and he was not letting a single member of Kate's family near Hannah until he'd had a decent amount of time alone with her. He wasn't sure what vitriol Kate had been spewing about him to his daughter for the last six years, but he figured his chances of trying to make her not hate him were far better if the Argents weren't around. Not to mention, Derek wasn't sure how trustworthy Scott was after that stunt he pulled with Gerard Argent. Not that it wasn't a good plan, but…

So, that whittled down the list of people he semi-trusted to Stiles and Deaton. And of those two, only Stiles was pack. Derek didn't know how, or when, it had happened, but somewhere along the line of them constantly trading favors in saving each other's lives, his wolf had accepted Stiles as a member of his pack. It had taken some time for his human side to catch up, but eventually, Derek had reconciled himself with the fact that his wolf was, as always, right. At least to himself, Derek was able to admit he considered Stiles to be a part of his pack.

Of course, he hadn't told the human teen any of this. Stiles was not only Scott's best friend, but since the beginning, he could barely stand Derek on the best of days. Their relationship had gotten better as of late, but Stiles would no doubt choose Scott's pack over his any day. And Derek wasn't ready to face that rejection quite yet. So, he was going to ask the younger man to come as emotional support as a sometimes ally and a sort of…maybe friend. If nothing else, taking Stiles along would minimize the chances of awkward silences.

"Let me get this straight," Stiles said with no small amount of shock in his voice as he stared at Derek. He hadn't been sure what to expect when he saw the black Camaro pull into his driveway late in the morning the day after his summer break started, but this certainly wasn't it. "You're asking me to sit in a car with you for five hours – one way – to go pick up your six-year-old daughter, who you didn't know existed until half an hour ago, from some boarding school in Oregon?"

"Yes," Derek replied as he stared at the ground and forced himself not to growl. It wasn't Stiles's fault that he was currently pissed of at almost the whole world, and he didn't think threatening / annoying the teen would be a good way to get him to agree to the favor.

"Ok, just gimme a minute," Stiles said as he ran upstairs to grab a clean hoodie and the car charger for his cell phone. After scribbling a quick note to his dad, Stiles locked the door behind him and went to stand on the passenger side of the Camaro, where he stood staring expectantly as Derek.

And Derek stared right back, saying nothing. He was kind of glaring at Stiles, but that was pretty much Derek's default or neutral expression, so Stiles didn't read too much into it. The odd staring and silence stretched out between them until Stiles sighted, deciding to answer the question that Derek was too…well Derek to ask.

"No, I am not going to ask for more details," Stiles said with a roll of his eyes. "Not that it would do much good. I imagine there's not that much more you can tell me anyway. I'm not going to make you talk about your feelings. You've probably got enough of that floating around in your head to fill several books; I'm not going to add to that. And I'm not going to ask how you happen to have a six-year-old daughter when you're only twenty-three. I have a very overactive imagination that has already happily provided several scenarios that are probably closer to and farther from the truth than you care to tell me."

"What I am going to do is sit in a car with a broody werewolf for ten hours because right now, he needs a friend. I'll ramble on and on about random things you probably won't listen to. Possibly play Angry Birds or surf the internet or something on my phone, hence the charger. And generally, just be there in case…"

"Stiles," Derek half-growled from the driver's side, effectively cutting off the human's rapidly degenerating rambling. However, the silence from Stiles wasn't going to last very long, because he was already getting ready to go on an indignant rant about growling at the people who were helping you, but he was stopped by the werewolf's next words. "Thank you."

"Oh, yeah," Stiles sputtered out awkwardly as he attempted to shrug in a nonchalant way but the movement ended up looking like a spastic sort of wiggle. "You're welcome. No problem. Happy to do it. No worries. I got time. We should get going though. You know, head out. Hit the road."

With an expression on his face that suggested he was unsure of whether to hit Stiles or just leave him behind, Derek got into the Camaro and unlocked the door for Stiles.

The next several hours were pretty much what Stiles had predicted. Derek remained mostly silent as Stiles prattled on about movies or comics or whatever else his mind conjured up, and when he ran out of breath or needed to take a break from non-stop babbling, the radio was turned on to combat what would have otherwise been a very tense silence. During those times, Stiles would just play around with his phone.

The only thing that had somewhat surprised Stiles occurred about the halfway point in their route. His stomach had rumbled, rather loudly, telling him it was hungry and well over an hour passed its normal feeding time. In short, the stomach was not happy. Stiles blushed, turned to look out at the suddenly very interesting tunnel wall outside his passenger window, and hoped that Derek would just let him be embarrassed in silence. Because there was no way he wouldn't have heard the rumble, even if he'd been limited by normal human hearing.

However, all the werewolf did was exit on the very next off ramp and pulled into the first fast food place they found. Without a word, Derek got out of the car, and Stiles followed behind like a puppy. He was further surprised when Derek let him order an ungodly amount of food, pushed the human aside, ordered for himself, and the paid for them both. The very pretty, very female cashier gave them a confusingly understanding smile, but Stiles decided to ignore it in the wake of free food. It was the best kind. He'd thanked Derek profusely, but the werewolf had merely shrugged and ate his meal in silence. And when Stiles had finished wolfing down his own portion, it was back on the road.

Now, they were standing in front of the infamous boarding school, and quite suddenly, Stiles was feeling very nervous. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. Coming hadn't seemed like such a big deal when they were back in Beacon Hills, but with the idea of meeting little Hannah and her teachers?...principal?...school secretary? Stiles had no idea what he was supposed to do.

Derek must have heard his heart start to beat faster with the sudden nervousness, because that was the only explanation for the werewolf to grab hold of Stiles's wrist out of the blue and attempt to smile reassuringly at him. Stiles said attempted, because it came out as more of a grimace. But it did its job, because he couldn't stop himself from laughing at the expression on Derek's face. The werewolf instantly let go his wrist and started glaring at Stiles, and that, okay that, made the human feel a little bad. Because he was supposed to be there offering moral support for Derek, not the other way around. So after he managed to calm himself down, Stiles offered his friend an apologetic smile, and asked, "Are you ready to go in?"

Derek didn't say anything, simply nodded, and pushed the doors in front of them open. Stiles followed him inside.

"Well, I certainly wasn't expecting you to bring your partner along. Although, it seems you've traded in for the younger model since we first spoke with Ms. Argent," Elizabeth said, glancing between both Derek and Stiles appraisingly before radioing someone through her headset to bring Hannah to the front office. "Nevertheless, it is nice to finally meet you Mr. Hale and Mr…?"

"Stillinski," Stiles managed to choke out as he felt Derek go rigid beside him. He wasn't sure whether the lady in front of them was being judgmental, just lacked tact, or was the kind of person who liked to see how far she could push quote-em-quote polite conversation before someone called her on it. Seriously? Traded in for the younger model? Whatever her reason was, he felt highly uncomfortable. "My last name is Stillinski."

"Well, it is good to meet you Mr. Stillinski," the secretary said, finally seeming to notice Derek's rather obvious shock. "No need to be so tense, Mr. Hale. Ms. Argent informed us the reason you two could not be together. Although it is unfortunate that Ms. Argent had to deal with the fact intercourse with her made you realize your homosexuality, we are equal-opportunity educators and do not judge a child based on their parent's sexual orientation. So, don't worry. We have treated Hannah just the same as every other student here."

As Stiles started sputtering again, unable to form coherent words, he chanced a glance at Derek and saw that the werewolf's expression had turned absolutely murderous. Dear God! Did this woman have no sense of self-preservation? They were probably mere seconds away from glowing red eyes, fangs, and really, really sharp claws unless Stiles did something. Floundering for any and all conversation topics that did not directly involve Kate Argent (seriously, this woman should know that even most non-werewolf, very human people don't want to talk about their exes with complete strangers), Stiles started rambling, "So, where was Hannah before you called her here? What's her favorite color? Favorite food? Do you know where she usually goes during the summer? How has she been doing in school? Have you told her about her mother yet?"

CRAP! Bad Stiles! BAD! That was a direct question about Kate Argent. He needed to redirect, but his brain-to-mouth filter wasn't having it.

"I mean, how do you tell a six-year-old something like that? She must be devastated. Wait! Does she even know? Do we need to tell her? Oh crap! How are we supposed to do that? By the way, I'm not actually…"

"Mrs. Blackthorn," a young and very stiff voiced called from across the room. "You ordered to have me brought to the office with all my things. Since Mother died, I'm assuming my father has arrived."

A/N: Hello and welcome to the end of Ch. 1 of Little Bundle Bereft of Joy. I hope you enjoyed it and look forward to reading future chapters.

I love reviewers, but I do have a request. I would really love for someone to seriously critique my work. It doesn't have to stop at constructive criticism. I'd love for someone to really pick apart my work and tell me every little thing they hated, what needs to be improved, and what parts of my writing they liked best. Believe me when I say I love all reviews, and it's really nice to know people appreciate my work. However, I'm a far cry from being perfect, and there's always room to improve. Also, if I can get better, I can give better fan fiction to my readers. Anyway, thanks again for reading this fan fiction and hopefully you seriously considered my request.