Stiles ran through the woods on all fours, for once his long limbs feeling in place as wind rushed past his ears, sounding much like a blender to his sensitive hearing, yet he couldn't complain. The noise made it easier to think, the strain of his limbs almost soothing as he felt leaves and nuts crunch and fly under his clawed hands.
Stiles doesn't break his run even as he closes his eyes, letting his senses lead him in an eerie calmness he'd never experienced with his ADHD. It didn't stop his mind from running though.
The barrel of the gun does not tremble or loosen as it points at him, it's purpose certain.
"Wait! Stop, dad, please, Stiles saved us. It's one of the good guys!" Allison begged and Stiles wondered what he had done to get her safety. Scott did pick the situationally worst, yet best girlfriends.
"Please, mister Argent, he's my friend. He hasn't killed anyone besides Peter, who needed to die."
"He killed Kate." Chris cocked the gun fluidly.
"Dad, I love aunt Kate as much as you do, but she was corrupted...She wasn't a hunter, she was a monster." Even as Allison spoke, she looked like she didn't want to say it out loud. Say that her aunt was so much worse than she had wished for.
"...He can live," The all breathed a sigh of relief. "But only if he stays away from Derek Hale." Stiles felt his hairs stand up on edge. "Having a pack will make him stronger. I don't want to have to kill an entire pack of teenagers if I can help it."
"Why would I want to be around Derek anyway?" Stiles put on his bitterest tone, scowling. "He lied to me. Cheated me. If anything, I'd rather watch him burn." He must have put a lot of resentment in his words, because Chris smiled slightly and put his gun away.
"Glad to see we're on the same page, Stiles."
Were really not, Stiles thought as he retracted his claws, red eyes hidden behind custom amber contacts. One of the reasons he had been in isolation so long. After absorbing that much power, Stiles werewolf instinct was in almost constant mode. He couldn't shove it down like most, the shock of it all still reeling through him, unable to process completely. Most who took the Alpha status killed for it and had prepared to take it on. But not Stiles. If it wasn't red he saw in the mirror, it was honey whiskey for only a few minutes. He figured once he learnt more control it would fade.
Which was why he was walking into Derek's new hideout - it was a frickin hideout, Derek, not a house - with a small smile. It was an abandoned train warehouse and Stiles admitted, he quite liked it. Sure, it was dark and damp, but it was also cool against his warm skin and echoed his footsteps in a way that made him ecstatic with awe.
Music flittered through his ears, smirk curling up his lips as he got closer into the dimly light loft.
"I'm on a highway to hell~." Oh hell yeah I am.
Stiles leaned against the doorframe - sorta, there wasn't even a door, he was sure it was just a walkway? - and watched as the beta werewolf pulled himself up on the bar, entire body tight with strain. Stiles let himself run his gaze over the thin layer of perspiration over Derek's chest and abs, wiping his mouth to make sure he wasn't drooling.
"Going to keep watching or are you going to come face the music?" Derek dropped down to the ground as Stiles flushed in embarrassment at being caught.
"Depends, have any pop?"
"The drink?"
"The music."
"I can't wait to break your legs today." Even as Derek said it, he could see his eyes crinkle in humour. Stiles chuckled and pulled his hoodie off to start his training.
Chris' words could take a walk.
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Stiles had heard about Lydia, how she went missing during his week and a half of isolation in the woods. He remembered hearing a scream during that time, but didn't follow it. It had been feminine and shrill, and it hurt his ears. So he ignored it.
Lydia still seemed a bit out of it, weary of the world, but Stiles tried to be there as much as possible. Lydia hadn't been happy as first, yelling at him for going MIA while she was in hospital, but she slowly got over it as time went by. Stiles was just glad she was alive, that Peter hadn't turned her into a werewolf. He figured she was immune - it was the only possibly that seemed realistic to him. As realistic as it got in Beacon Hills with all its supernatural cafoo.
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Isaac shuddered against the cool night air, looking around every time he felt like he was being watched. It was likely just him being paranoid at this point; once you found out about the supernatural, it became second nature really. It felt strange, knowing he was digging Kate Argent's grave, the woman Stiles had killed. Accidentally, but it was still a life taken, as much of a bitch she was.
Isaac's head whipped towards the woods, standing in the backhoe to squint into the darkness.
"Stiles?" He called softly, knowing Stiles would hear him nonetheless. He lets out a shriek when a sudden force hits the backhoe, toppling the machinery over the grave he was digging. He fell into it, knocking the breath out of him as he wheezed, groaning with a hand on his aching chest.
How poetic, dying in a grave. No, not poetic. Ironic more like it. Either way, Isaac wasn't ready to just lay down and die. Isaac jumped up, trying to grasp the backhoe to pull himself up - not that he had that kind of strength, but it was worth a shot.
Isaac's finger tips brushed it, but he couldn't get a grip, falling back down on his rump when a gust of wind blew by him, a figure flying over the backhoe. Isaac jumped once more, grasping the edge with all his might and peeking over as his arms shook with effort.
Something in the dark tore into a grave, ripping something from a corpse before Isaac fell back, unable to keep himself up any longer. He heard a loud whine before a deep growl overlapped it. Then silence. Isaac waited, heart thundering in fear. What if he was the things next meal?
He flinched when the backhoe suddenly rose back up, light shining down on him from the lamp post. Looking up, a rugged man with dark hair and green eyes smiled down at him, clad in leather and white polyester.
"Need a hand?" He offered his hand to Isaac, and he took it without a word. If this guy was the monster, at least he'd be able to run away on foot instead of trapped in a giant hole. The man stiffened once they were on the same level, nose twitching.
"Who are you?" He questioned, brows furrowed.
"Uh...Isaac?" He backed away slowly.
"I see." Derek could smell Stiles on the boy, and had smelt the boys scent on Stiles at least a few times. Was Isaac Stiles friend, or more? Derek shook the thought away, turning on foot to go after the grave robber.
"Uh, thank you!" Isaac yelled after the werewolf, watching him fade away in the distance with awe before heading home. Screw work, he preferred his bed, not a coffin.
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"What do you mean you can smell Lydia here?" Scott furrowed his brows, frustrated as he took a deep inhale from his puffer. Allison held his hand as they walked, not questioning Stiles' nose.
"It means I can smell her, Scott!"
"Why would she be at the Hale house?" Allison finally spoke up, letting Scott's hand go to hold Stiles' shoulder, keeping the rushing boy in place for the moment.
"I don't know." Stiles huffed in frustration, tried of questions already as worry for the strawberry blonde grew. Scott trekked forward without them, wishing he was in his or Allison's bed right this moment. His wishes were halted though when Stiles yelled.
"Stop!" Stiles sniffed, eyes narrowed. "It's...gone. Her scent just whoofed! Gone!" He squawked at the injustice.
"Does that means she's not here?"
"I don't know..." Stiles looked around, inching towards a tree. He looked at the trip wire with a frown. "Hey guys, I found a trip-"
"Ahhh!" Stiles looked back to Scott, distracted from the trip wire he was playing with, only to see his best friend hanging upside down.
"Sorry man." Stiles winced. He stiffened when he heard leaves crunch.
"Hunters." He could smell the silver. Stiles grabbed Allison and hid behind a cluster of trees and fog, watching as Chris and two other hunters approached Scott. Chris sighed at the sight of Scott strung up, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Scott McCall. Who else." Chris came closer, but didn't help him down yet. "Since I have you here, I'd like to relay a message. Keep a leash on Stiles and tell him to rein it in. If you're here, I'm sure he's nearby, and I don't want him getting between my hunters and his friend, Martin."
"Lydia?" Scott asked incredulously. "What about her?"
"I'll just say, when the next full moon comes up, I'll be the one to clean up Lydia's mess and make sure it doesn't happen again." Scott was released with a yelp, grabbing his inhaler and putting it in his jacket. He'd wasn't about to lose it in the woods of all places.
Stiles watched as the hunters left, core chilled to ice.
They thought Lydia was a werewolf.
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Stiles and Scott spoke in low voices by their lockers. Stiles fidgeted with his padlock.
"Where would you go if you were a pretty girl in dangerous of shifting?" Scott shrugged at Stiles question.
"All I know is that Lydia likes her home, school and the mall. Allison hasn't seen her either."
"Well where could she have gone - Heyyyyy Isaac!" Stiles broke off his sentence to greet Isaac awkwardly, stumbling when he tried to lean against his locker suavely.
"Hey Stiles. Look, your dad came by the question me this morning in the graveyard. I told him someone stole a dead guys liver, but I didn't tell him about the other guy who scared the first guy off. He seemed supernatural, do you know him?"
"What am I, a Wikipedia for the supernatural?" Stiles sassed.
"Sorry for asking?" Isaac rolled his eyes, making Stiles blink in surprise. When did Isaac start being sassy?
"Describe him to me." Stiles relented.
"Dark hair, beard, pretty buff, cute smile and green eyes? Leather?"
"You had me at cute smile, I know him." Stiles smirked. "I'll talk to him, don't worry about the big fluff ball."
"Derek would probably kill you if he heard you say that." Scott snickered.
"I'm special." Stiles shrugged with a grin.
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The cafeteria bustled with life and OB and okay food as Isaac, Scott, Allison, Danny, Jackson, Lydia and Stiles sat together. Danny and Allison had linked the two friend groups, forcing them to interact at least a little bit. Stiles nibbled at a fish stick as Isaac looked across the cafeteria with a far off look.
"What's up?" Stiles asked him curiously.
"Nothing, just...doesn't he look lonely?" Isaac said sympathetically as he pointed to a burly black boy with buzzed hair and dark eyes, eating alone. "He just...He looks really lonely and I remember how it felt to sit alone, Stiles, wrapped up in your own thoughts. It's not fun." Isaac sighed, deflating against the table.
"Why don't you go talk to him then?" Stiles suggested.
"What? No, I'd probably vomit on him before getting a single word out." Stiles wrinkled his nose in a cringe, but understood Isaac's anxiety.
"Okay...I will then." Isaac looked at him in surprise as he stood and walked over, putting as much confident in his steps as possible. As he gets closer though, his heart drops lower into his stomach. "Hiya -"
"Don't bother." Well then.
"Oh, okay, I'll uh, be going now..." Stiles turned tail, about to walk back to his table before pausing. He was a goddamn Alpha, was he really going to drop his mission of friendship that easily? He turned back to him. "You know what, no. You look lonely as hell, and I want to talk." He took a seat across from the boy who looked at him with a dead panned expression. Slightly terrifying, but not that scariest thing Stiles had seen these past few months.
"So, I'm Stiles. How's you day been?" He gave an exaggerated smile.
"...Boyd. And rather anticlimactic. I had a math test." Boyd responses after a few moments, looking at the table in an effort to ignore the other teen. He picked at the chipping away paint.
"Mines tomorrow. Tell me, what do you do after school for fun? I like watching movies." He spurred the conversation, determined to get something out of the lonely guy.
"...I work after school. Don't have time for hobbies." He shrugged.
"Oh really? Where do you work?"
"What do you want?" Boyd sighed, actually looking hurt at Stiles' efforts.
"Nothing. Just answer it, it's called 'conversation'."
"At the ice rink. I'm a cleaner." Boyd answered, body guarded.
"Really? Cool! You know, I was thinking of dropping by this afternoon for a skate. Might even bring a friend." He almost laughed out loud at the idea of Derek skating. He was so big and burly he wondered if it would even be graceful.
"I'd say please don't, but it would be bad for business to deter you from coming." Stiles pouted at his words. No wonder the kid sat alone when he tried to push people away so much. Well, more like withdraw from others from how he shifted.
"Well, I'm going to go back to my friends. Feel free to join us at any time, Isaac was the one who got me to come over. He...Doesn't like people being alone. Neither do I." He didn't think the guy would come, and he didn't, but Stiles felt his words had some kind of impression on the stoic teen.
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Stiles eyes almost bulge out of his head when he sees Jackson's nose starts to leak black, viscous fluid. And when Jackson runs out of class, he's sure it's his instinct that makes him follow, the instinct to protect his first bite. He may not like Jackson, not one bit, but the blond was connected to him now, like a tether between them that pulled Stiles into action. A tether that shouts at him to protect and care for the douchebag. Yeah, he hates that bond.
"Jackson?" Stiles hears the click of a lock on the stall door, sighing. Taking a deep breath in to calm himself, he noticed Derek's scent right by. He whipped around, almost tripping over his own feet when he saw the broad werewolf. Derek steadied him with a warm hand on his shoulder, spiking his heart rate for a moment. He knows the glow of his eyes can be seen under the brown contacts when his heart rises, fighting the urge to let them be seen.
"Jackson?" He called once more, eyes still on Derek. Derek nodded, as if confirming his eyes were normal as possible again.
"Just go away, Stilinski!" Jackson snapped, wiping at the black goo leaking from his nose with toilet paper. Derek looks at the stall and knocks once. Jackson growled and snap at Stiles to leave one more time. Derek snarled at the tone though, breaking in the stall door for Stiles, smirking when Jackson flinched, gaping at the broken stall door hanging off one loose bottom hinge.
"Look, I'm not joining your pack, okay? So whatever you're doing, make it stop!" Jackson seemed genuinely fearful, shoving past them both to look in the mirror.
"I'm not doing anything, Jackson." Stiles started in bewilderment as the tar-like substance began leaking from Jackson's ear. "Derek, do you have any clue what's happening?" Stiles looked at him for an answer. The man had been a werewolf a lot longer than he had.
"Your body's fighting the bite...I-I can't do anything." Derek was lost, staring at the goo as if it was the plague. With only a few steps, Derek had fled to the bathroom and no doubt the school. Stiles pursed his lips, looking Jackson over in worry he shouldn't feel so the enemy.
"It'll be okay. You've already turned after all...right?" Jackson didn't respond, staring in horror as his face became marred with black, not even snapping when Stiles wet some toilet paper and began cleaning his face of it.
Was this how he would die?
19 BITES
A/N: Yeah boiiiiiii! Two of three of my favourite betas have now entered the scene. *pats myself on back* I think I deserved that, Everyone loves a little Boyd. I like the idea of Stiles being a little protective of Jackson since he gave him the bite and is new to being an Alpha. Stiles such a mother's hen as it is, let's admit.