It takes four months for Derek to piece together his pride and ask Allison for her help. Half of that is spent dreading the moment, and the other half is spent convincing himself one girl and one set of arrows isn’t worth it.
(Scott claims she’s trying to separate herself from the pack, to forget she’s an Argent and concentrate on her schoolwork instead; Derek laughs. He knows you can’t escape the blood in your veins, not without forcing it all out.)
It takes her two seconds to say, “No.” A minute of silence to catch her breath, to clench her jaw when she notices the concentrated look on Derek’s face. He’s listening to her pulse; she can feel the quickened thrum in her throat.
“Why would I help you? You killed my mother.”
“The Argent code killed your mother. If your family wasn’t the way it is, she’d still be alive.”
Allison’s upper lip twitches. “But she’d be a werewolf.”
“And she’d be alive.”
Help us, he tells her. Don’t do it for me. Do it for Scott and Lydia and Stiles. Do it for everyone the Alpha pack is threatening. I’m not asking to be your friend or even your ally. We just need you.
It takes four months for Derek to ask Allison for her help. They share a room with desperation and a pair of tired, almost-pleading eyes for ten minutes before she agrees.