Teen Wolf: Soul Storm

Author's Note: Well Season 3 is officially over, meaning its time for me to write fan fiction again ^_^

Chapter One

Stiles awoke to a throbbing pain in his arm. He gasped as a white hot sensation shot through his veins, and grabbed for the place on his arm. There was nothing there, just like the last few nights this had been happening.

He'd thought he might finally be able to sleep again with all this Nogitsune stuff over with, but now he awoke every night to this pain in his arm that went away as quickly as it started.

His brain could come to one conclusion immediately, but that didn't mean he liked it. The Nogitsune had split from his body, so had they still been connected in some way? What if Scott biting...

Stiles gulped, feeling a rush of anxiety. Don't think about that. He wasn't going to turn into a werewolf... was he?

oooOooo

Scott couldn't help noticing the dark spots under his best friend's eyes when they met at the school flagpole the next morning.

"You look like crap," he commented.

"Yeah I kinda feel like it Scotty," Stiles groaned.

Scott couldn't keep a hint of worry from showing in his eyes. After all, his best friend had only recently been host to a trickster fox who had used his body to go on a killing spree. He knew that Stiles would never be... wasn't the same.

Stiles seemed to have aged several years in a very short time. He was no longer the carefree teenager who cracked sarcastic jokes at every turn. His humor now had an almost tired air to it, as though it were something outgrown, but not entirely forgotten.

The two of them made their way inside the school, making for their lockers, but Stiles paused at something in the corner of his vision. Derek was standing in the locker room, eyes focused on him with that usual stone mask look.

"Stiles?" Scott asked, eying him questioningly.

"I just remembered something," Stiles told him. "Locker room. You go ahead. I think I left something in my gym locker yesterday."

Scott looked skeptical, lips turning down into a slight frown.

"Well alright dude," he said finally. "I guess I'll see ya."

Stiles watched his best friend walk away with a sudden rush of guilt. Scott probably didn't want to be alone right now with the loss of Allison still so fresh. It was his fault for letting the Nogitsune in...

Fed up with the guilt, Stiles figured he'd better go see what Derek wanted. This wasn't the first time the Sourwolf had visited him at school in the last few days. It seemed to have become some strange daily ritual for them to meet in the locker room.

Derek never would have sought Stiles out before. It seemed things had changed between them without anything being said.

Derek was waiting against the lockers, arms folded defiantly, but he didn't look exactly pissed off. He lifted his gaze, soulful blue eyes meeting Stiles. How many times had Stiles found himself lost in the depths of emotion those eyes seemed to plunge him into?

"So how are you?" Derek's voice cut into his thoughts.

Stiles found himself smiling a little.

"You come to school to see him I'm doing Derek?" he teased.

Derek's frown deepened, and Stiles figured he'd said the wrong thing. He should probably just shut up.

"I came to talk to you about something important."

"Well I'm all ears," Stiles said, crossing his arms.

"I think you're in danger Stiles."

Okay, so that hadn't been what he'd been expecting...

"What do you mean?" the boy asked in confusion.

"I mean Kate's a werewolf," Derek pointed out. "She'll come after the pack. You're pack, and you're still human."

Stiles hated to admit that Derek had a good point. Kate probably would come after him first if she thought it was the easiest way of getting to Derek or Scott.

"I want to protect you."

"By what?" Stiles asked. "Following me everywhere?"

However, Derek only eyed him strangely and didn't answer. If there had ever been a time that Stiles thought Derek Hale looked truly at a loss for words, this was it.

"Well I can't very well get Ethan to follow you," Derek said eventually with a sigh. "I don't know where he's gone to. It seems no one does. I want you to... "

Derek cut off, facial expression almost painful, as though he weren't ready to say what he needed to say next.

"You want me to what?" Stiles asked, eying him expectantly. "I don't have all morning Derek. We're lucky no one's walked in on us yet."

"Alright!" Derek snapped, inhaling to calm himself. "I think you'd be safest if you stayed with me, at the loft."

Stiles almost couldn't believe what he'd just heard, mouth dropping open in surprise.

"Look, just have a bag ready, and I'll pick you up at your house at about eight tonight. Make something up your dad will believe. You're good at that."

Stiles had no idea what he should say. He wanted to argue, but he knew fully well how far that would get him with Derek. Besides, part of him was truly intrigued at how such a venture might play out.

"Fine," Stiles agreed. "Eight o'clock. I'll make something up."

Derek looked slightly surprised to find him so willing. Maybe Derek Sourwolf Hale didn't know him as well as he thought...

Stiles had to supress the urge to grin.

oooOooo

Mr. Avery looked at the clock over the display case, feeling as though five minutes couldn't be over soon enough. He may as well close up the shop now. No one else was likely to come in five minutes to closing time.

As though contradicting his thoughts, the door chime suddenly rang, and in walked a lithe dame with flowing blond hair. She gave him the smallest hint of a smile.

Someone else came in behind her, a male who looked to be in his early thirties- just a little younger than the blond. The man had spikey black hair and brown eyes.

He watched them poke around the store as though looking for nothing in particular.

"The store closes at 8," he told them, not trying to sound rude.

The blond eyed him, but she didn't look amused. Her male accomplice suddenly turned the lock on the door.

"Store closes now," he said.

The blond rushed at him in a flash, jerking him up by the collar of his shirt. She was a strong one...

"Please let me go!" Mr. Avery pleaded.

The blond smirked and flicked her hand, nails lengthening into claws. She eyed her male accomplice.

"This the one you wanted me to take out?"

"That's him," her dark-haired partner said with a smirk.

The blond pushed Mr. Avery against the wall, bringing her clawed hand up around his throat.

"So sorry sweetums," she whispered.

There was a sudden CRACK and the store manager fell to the floor, dead as a stone statue, his head twisted at an awkward angle. The blond eyed her male accomplice with a cold smirk.

"Do whatever it is you're going to do. Just make sure Derek Hale and his friends suffer."

To be continued...