Disclaimer : not mine, all Jeff Davis, no money made with this, blah, blah, blah.

AN : I wrote this for me, myself and I but since it was sleeping on my computer I thought about giving it to my lovely Beta to see where my mistakes were and since it had been beta'd I thought "why not publishing it?" So here it is.

Knowing The Little Things That Matter liked it is enough for me for once, just hope my BFF will like it too.

But feel free to R&R, it's always good to know what people think about what you'd done. ;)

Warning : Self-harm, cutting, may be a trigger!

Hope you'll enjoy it anyway

Broken soul

This time it was it. He had lost everything. His family. His pack. Everything was gone. She'd been missing for some time and now ? Well, she wasn't missing anymore. In a way he wished she still was. Laura. His beloved sister. His only family he had left. Gone. Dead. Cut in half and used as bait!

If it wasn't for his rage he would be crying about all he once had and knew. But no. So here he was, kneeling in what used to be his family's living room, fisting his hair and yelling at the top of his lungs to finally curl up in a ball, exhausted.

When he got his breathing under control again he sat on his heels, feeling useless and hopeless. Ashamed. He should have been here with her. Just like he should have been there for his family.

He had failed them all.

They'd been burning alive while he was at school and she'd been savagely killed when he'd been traveling. He was in some big city and he'd left her alone in that freaking town which had taken him all he had ever had… He felt weak.

After the rage came the pain. The sorrow and guilt that were eating him alive. It was like having your insides turned upside down and your heart ripped out of your chest, all that with you being wide awake and unable to die.

The only thing he knew that could help him cope with this kind of pain was to create another one. A physical one.

It'd been years since he'd last done that. Cutting his flesh and watching the blood run on his skin.

Watching the wound heal and doing it again. And again. And again. Until his arm was covered in red and the healing process began to take more time. That was when he started feeling better. When his flesh couldn't take it anymore. When the cuts took some minutes to heal and not some seconds. When he could see more and more blood escaping his body. That made him feel better. Because it was a pain he could deal with. A pain he could easily focus on and see getting better. Until there was no sign of it at all.

Then he would start all over again. Cutting in deeper with his claws.

He'd started doing this after the fire, when nearly all his family had burned with his house, his home. Six years later he had stopped doing it because it bothered Laura. She knew it wouldn't kill him, sure, but seeing him destroying himself and relieving himself in pain wasn't something she liked in the least. He had stopped for her. And she wasn't there anymore. That was more than he could take…

All the people he'd ever loved or cared about were dead or had betrayed him to no end.

The anger came back, fuelled with despair and he ran his clawed hand sharply on his forearm, cutting deeper than ever through the flesh. Skin and muscles and tendons and bones were ripped in one movement and Derek watched, amazed, at his blood scattering on the floor.

It took him half an hour to heal and when he finally stood up he was feeling dizzy from blood loss and his cheeks were damp with tears.

He went outside, stumbling a little and washed his arm and face before working on putting his walls and mask back up. He would never let anyone be that close to him ever again. He swore to himself that no one would ever had this kind of power on him anymore.

He'd do his best so people would be scared of him and no one would want to deal with him. He'd avenge his sister. Avenge his family. Then he'd end his life. That was the best thing to do. No one would miss him anyway and that way he wouldn't have to deal with anything like that again.

Yes it was the easy way out. Yes it was being weak. Yes it was being selfish. But who would be there to tell him not to do it?

He went inside, took his jacket and went out once more, trying to figure out what his sister had already did before. He would get rid of that alpha or he would die trying to. But before that he had to find him. He ran in the wood, trying to pick up his scent and heard voices. Surely it were those stupid kids from last night.

They were looking for something but he didn't care. He didn't want them there. No. Scratch that. He needed them far. The better way to make that happen was to find what they were searching, give it to them and make sure they left. He easily found the inhaler and walked to them to hand it back.

When he saw them his heart stopped though. They were two boys, teens, but one of them was different. He felt his wolf trying to get out of him. Then the boy noticed him. He threw the inhaler to the other one and told them to move away, that they were on a private propriety. He walked away, relieved that he'd been able to keep his mask up, even if his walls had shattered into pieces. When he was out of sight he leaned on a tree. Those eyes. His eyes. He knew he was lost… he knew he was because he had to deal with the other one, the bitten one, to find the alpha and he knew he wouldn't be able to see him without seeing him. He could smell him on the other. Not because they were together but because they spent so much time just the two of them.

He knew he was lost because he was like a spark in the darkness…