It was their first reunion - five years after his class had graduated, eight years after the fire and Derek and Laura moving to New York.
He wouldn’t have even known about it if one of his old classmates hadn’t contacted Laura on Facebook and asked her to pass the invitation on to Derek. She did - and she also pestered him into attending, claiming that it would be good for them to go back - for closure, and to tie up the last few loose ends still holding them to Beacon Hills, including the house falling to ruins in the preserve.
He almost didn’t notice the blip in her heart that gave her away. It took even more cajoling from his side to get her to show him the other message that had come from Beacon Hills - sent through pictures, and deer, and blood. Then they’d spend their entire trip from New York to California arguing about what to do about this problem. Laura wanted to solve this as soon as possible and had planned to go into the woods immediately. In the end Derek had convinced her to wait for one more night, so that he could go to his reunion and then back her up the next day.
To make sure she wouldn’t go into the woods anyways he took the Camaro. Laura was of course physically able to run the distance between the forest surrounding their old home and the hotel they were staying in at the other end of Beacon Hills but physically able did not mean willing thankfully. And if Derek could trust in anything it was Laura’s laziness.
So he took the Camaro back to the high school which he hadn’t been in for years for a reunion with people he hadn’t seen in years either and then just didn’t get out.
He must have sat there for at least five, probably closer to ten minutes when a rap against his window jerked him out of his thoughts. He hadn’t even noticed anyone walking up to his car. It took him a second to place the guy grinning at him through the window, what with the military short hair and the faint scent of heat and sand that surrounded him, but then an answering grin broke out across his face and he quickly got out of the car.
It was Camden Lahey, probably the closest thing he’d had to a best friend back then, Camden Lahey, who drew him into a hug immediately, warm and solid.
“Nice ride, Hale! But now say goodbye to your sweet lady and come inside. I promise we won’t bite!”
Camden Lahey, who took his hand and dragged him towards the school without another glance back at the Camaro and who never let go.
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