If you want to skip past my rant, the warnings, possible pairings and the short summary, just go down!

A/N: I don't feel like there is enough vampire!Stiles out there. I mean, sure, there is some pretty good ones, but I'm getting annoyed with the same constant vampire shit. See, when I picture vampires, I do NOT picture them burning in the sun, not able to enter the house unless given permission, being pale, turning to ashes, and other shit that I just find oddly annoying. I also hate the fact that people think that wolves and vampires don't get along, and other stuff. So, what does that mean? That means this story is going to be a tad different. But, maybe not that much.

Actually, there's a lot more supernaturals in this fic than just werewolves, werecoyotes and vampires. There's probably going to be a LOT others mentioned, like werefox, reaper, necromancer, siren, dream-walker, drainer, angel, demon, nephilim, seers, other were-creatures, and who knows what else.

POSSIBLE PAIRINGS: So, I actually like parrish/lydia, but don't get me wrong. I also like lydia/stiles. I just can't pick! So, this fic might have some romance in it as well (Unsure, im not the lovey dovey type all the time), but there also might be: hayden/liam, melissa/john (because who doesn't like them together?), scott/kira, malia/stiles. Also, a lot of friendship going on. I'm sorry for all those Sterek fans, but I do NOT like the whole derek/stiles thing, well, at least not when it comes to love. When its friendship, i totally dig that. (okay, I'm going to shut up now)

WARNINGS: Just, be warned. I'll try to post warnings for each chapters, but be warned of cursing (and lots of it), and sexual content.

May have lots of mentions of Stiles ADHD and panic attacks. I think they make him so...unique. And funny, and adorable. :) ADHD Stiles is just funny.

Short Summary: Stiles gets turned, but not into anything anyone ever expects. And to think the pack probably thought he was the weak link, Stiles can definitely say he is not anymore.

0o0o0o

Chapter 1: Hourglass of badluck

Stiles was having a terrible day. Nevermind the fact that Theo was...well, being himself, and that he continued to try to find ways to overrule Scott's pack. No, it wasn't just that which made Stiles day bad, but everything in between. His bad luck started when he woke up late. He only had ten minutes to get ready. He had been shuffling around his room, trying to find something clean to wear as he groaned in annoyance. Malia had spent the night, and of corse, she was no where in sight. She didn't even wake him up. Nevermind that, his alarm clock was ripped from the wall and was definitely broken! Stiles barely was able to brush his teeth, and didn't even get breakfast or take his Adderall as he rushed out the door and into his jeep. He had nearly ran every single red light on his way to school, and yet, he was still late to first period.
Back at his locker, Stiles jumped back as his locker door slammed on his finger. He took the time holding the red and swelling finger - on the hand he rights with - as he let out nearly every curse word he could think of. Malia just looked at him in shock and annoyance. He groaned before she opened her mouth. "Why were you late?" She asked, and this time, he couldn't help but roll his eyes as he shifted his backpack on his shoulder - which for some reason was hurting from the way he slept last night. Apparently, Malia was a bed hogger.
"Oh, probably because someone broke my alarm clock and left without waking me up." Stiles didn't mean to snap, but he couldn't help himself. How could she just leave like that? She knew he had school. Hell, she knew because she always goes to school with him. He used to take her to school for god's sake, until she finally got her license.

"It wouldn't shut up. I kept turning the off button and -" She shook her head, getting to the point, "You weren't really waking up. I figured it was just too early for you."

Stiles was more than annoyed now. He knew he shouldn't be so damn pissed off, but something about getting to school late, forgetting to take his Adderall, having a bad shoulder, and now a possibly broken finger - thanks so much, Malia - kind of made him cranky.

"That's called a snooze button." Malia just looked so confused, and Stiles just mummbled 'damn coyotes' under his breath, knowing fully well that Malia could hear him and possibly kill him if she wanted to. She didn't look that hurt though. In fact, she just bit her lip and looked at him with those damn cute yet emotionless eyes and said, "Well, I'm going to get to class, don't wanna be late." She ran off, and he made his way to his own class. Of corse, his locker just happened to be right next to Malia's second period, so she wasn't late. But him of corse, was running long after the bell had rung.

The rest of the day hasn't been very peachy to Stiles either. To his luck, he forgot money for lunch. So, not only did he skip breakfast, but he also skipped lunch on the day he knows lacrosse practice runs miles. Great, just great. Not taking his Adderall made him hungry, and not fullfilling his hunger made him nausous. He had ran to the bathroom - knocking a few people over- without anyone noticing. Of corse, Liam was starring down Hayden as he ignored Mason, and Scott was giving googly eyes to Kira. Lydia - well, who knew what the hell she was doing. It seemed like her green eyes had wandered off, starring at some guy across the cafeteria.

Stiles had spent the rest of his lunch period in the bathroom puking out all the stomach acid his body could hold. The bile had scratched his voice raw, and he even saw tiny streams of blood from puking so much. He still had a small amount of blood on his shirt when he went to his next class. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice. That is, when Mr. Barkley had yelled at him to meet him after school for detention. Stiles really didn't mean to not pay attention. It's just, one minute he was taking notes on polynomials, and the next thing he knew he was starring at Mr. Barkley wondering what he looked like with different kinds of mustaches.

Seriously, he wished he had took his Adderall.

He was shoving his text books in a clumsy manner when Scott came up to him, screwing his face up. "Damn, you stink."

"You know Scott, usually people start off with a 'hello'. I don't understand why supernaturals have such a hard time with that." Stiles mumbled the last part, knowing Scott could hear him. He cursed as the text book added pressure on his -surely broken- finger. Scott just laughed it off, but in his 'this-is-awkward-because-I-can-tell-you-are-in-a-pissy-mood' kind of laugh. Stiles, however, didn't have time for it. He slammed his locker door shut and started heading towards detention without saying a word to Scott.

"Where are you going? Practice is this way?" Scott questioned, pointing to where the rest of the team were probably already at.

"Well," Stiles growled, "detention is this way. Say hi to coach for me."

Seriously, he really wasn't trying to be so rude, but it wasn't like anyone cared. Scott was too busy talking and laughing with Kira, ignoring Stile's every word. Actually, it was kind of the norm for them now. Even with Allison. Heck, especially with Allison. Scott may have gotten slightly better at this whole 'dating-but-still-being-a-good-friend' thing, but he wouldn't have earned an A according to Stiles. Hell, Kira was just as bad as him. She was too focused on Scott that she barely even paid attention to her own damn parents. And Liam, well, he reminded him a lot of Scott. Mason would be trying to tell him - heck, warn him - of something, but Liam would just shut him out as he watched Hayden's bouncy wavy hair as she sat with Theo and the rest of their stupid evil pack. Sometimes, Stiles thinks, us humans are the only fucking logical thing around here. Hell, Lydia hasn't even been around much anymore. She only has about one or two classes, and she doesn't even have lunch with them anymore. In fact, she spends her lunch - and breakfast - with Parrish, because god damnit they must of been perfect for each other. Lydia warned death was near, and Parrish made the bodies disappear. They were inseparable.

Stiles didn't hear Scott say a word. In fact, he was too zoned out into his thoughts to even notice if he did. He glanced behind him, only to see Scott was already gone. He actually felt a sigh of relief escape his lips before he ran into something. Hard.

Stiles felt himself fall backwards, landing hard on his lower back, and even hitting his head on the ground. He looked up, bright lights and fog clouding his vision as he tried to stand himself up. He was suprised to see three football players starring down at him. Brett, the one closest to him, looked extremely pissed off. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was growling under his breath. Maybe not a werewolf growl, but a growl nonetheless.

"Usually people throw me on the ground after I meet them." Stiles blurted out, knowing fully well that sarcasm was definitely not going to help him. He couldn't help himself. His mouth would move but his mind would say fucking stop it, Stiles.

The football player just gave another growl, then suddenly pulled at the collar of his shirt and slammed him up against the lockers hard. Stiles had to admit, it wasn't the first time he's been thrown into walls or lockers. Usually, it wasn't a football player. In fact, usually it was werewolves that knew he's just a human and not someone that can goddamn heal fast.

"You owe me, Stillinski-" He growled, and Stiles could imagine his eyes turning yellow or red. Maybe even steam coming out of his mouth and ears.

"I don't remember trying to buy anything from you-" Cause everyone knows you're a drug dealer.

Brett didn't respond. Instead, he just lifted Stiles off the ground with his shirt.

Damnit, this is my favorite shirt.

"Remember when you and your small bladder ran into my girlfriend?" Brett spoke with a dangerous voice. Stiles knew he wasn't going to get away with this one. "She twisted her ankle. She was supposed to be going to a beauty pagent which would have earned her a full-ride scholarship."

"First of all," Stiles started. He tried to tell himself to be quiet, but the words just kept slipping out. "I was rushing to the bathroom to puke. So, be thankful I didn't do it on her instead. And second, who even said she was going to win?"

Now, Stiles knew well that he wasn't going to get out of this one. Immediately, Brett threw Stiles to the ground. He felt pain erupt in his back, but before he could do anything, Brett and his two football buddies grabbed a hold of him and shoved him into the boy's bathroom.

They threw him on the ground once again. Stiles couldn't even begin to stand up as they began kicking the shit out of him. He felt pain all over his body, especially in his back, face and stomach.

It felt like hours later until they stopped, leaving Stiles on the floor, bleeding and breathing heavily. He could only wish that Scott could hear him from the locker room and come running. But he doubted it. The guy never paid attention to him anymore, so hearing his fast heartbeat from five rooms down probably wouldn't be heard.

Stiles just groaned in defeat, letting the darkness devour him.

0o0o0o

Stiles woke up, immediately remembering Brett and the other two. He had started getting up, but immediately began puking. A lot more blood was in his vomit now, and he could only hope it was nothing too serious. He wasn't in the mood to tell anyone what had happened - especially Melissa. He just wanted to go home and sleep without anyone questioning him.

He pulled himself up, and held onto the sink with white knuckles as he starred himself in the mirror. One eye was already dark red and blue and swollen shut. There were multiple cuts on his face, but perhaps the most obvious, was the large blood stain on his favorite shirt. He lifted the shirt to see the damage. The cuts were small, but there was too many to count. He had lost more blood than he thought, but nothing life threatening.

He signed as he let his shirt fall again, feeling the fabric once again cling to his bloody, wet skin. He felt another wave of nausea hit him, but only shortly before dizziness overwhelmed him. His stomach and lower back felt as if they were exploding in pain. The only way he could explain it, was like knives digging into his skin. He was shocked no one else was in the bathroom, because it felt so real.

He was breathing hard, trying to deal with the pain. Beeds of sweet dotted across his forehead, and once he thought he was going to be fine, another sharp stabbing pain erupted in his abdomen, and this time he fell to the floor.

He couldn't breathe. He felt his heart race each time he struggled to get air. He hasn't had a panic attack in a long time, and hell, the last three times, there was always someone there. This time, he was alone and bleeding and in pain. He desperately wanted to believe that Brett and the guys didn't do that much damage to him, but the level of pain he was feeling made him doubt. He could see the purple and blue bruises on his skin, which only made him panic more as he wondered if he was suffering from internal bleeding. He hoped not, and instead tried to focus on breathing.

It took maybe fifteen minutes for him to calm down again. He wasn't sure, though, sense each minute felt like an hour, and each hour made him worry that someone would realize he's gone, and that he would soon have to explain.

He didn't want to explain. He was tired. He was tired of being the weak human. For being the only - minus Mason, but he technically isn't in the pack yet - human in Scott's pack. He was tired of everything shoving him around. He couldn't heal like they did, couldn't they just treat him a little better?

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Stiles pulled himself out of his thoughts and into reality as he stood to his feet. His body was not feeling numb, and Stiles hoped it was a good thing.

He dug his phone out of his pocket, knowing that Mr. Barkley was going to be extremely pissed if he was late to detention.

Turned out, he wasn't just late. He missed the whole damn thing. Hell, he's been in the boy's bathroom longer than lacrosse has practice. It was already almost 7:30 pm, and he was sure it was already dark outside. Hell, the fact that a full moon was tonight didn't help Stiles' anxiety.

Frustrated, Stiles began walking to the parking lot. He couldn't help but realize no one called. Or texted. Or was worried. No one even know that he wasn't home or was in this mess. Which, was good for Stiles, in a way, because he really didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want them looking at him as the weak link. Not anymore. He was tired of it.

Stiles didn't think his day could get anymore as he got closer to his jeep, realizing that all four tires were slashed, and the side had one long white scratch. On the hood of his jeep was carved a big 'Fuck you.'. This only made Stiles growl more.

For a moment, Stiles had thought about calling Scott. He realized two things. One, Scott was going to tell him he needed to learn how to fight, which would only make him feel even more crappy than before. Two, Scott probably wouldn't pick up his call, because chances are he was with Kira. Hell, Scott would have probably purposly ignore his call, thinking it was just him fucking around with something that wasn't important.

He thought about calling his dad, but knew that he would talk him into filing a report, then yelling at the school for not paying more attention to the students after school. Plus, he was a cop for god's sake. Brett would hate him even more, and the entire football team would probably bash his head in.

Stiles winced as a headache started to come on. Starring at his phone once more, he groaned as he watched the phone suddenly turn off.

Great. Stiles thought, Now my phone is dead.

Stiles was more than done now. He was beaten to a pulp in the guy's locker room by three football players. His jeep was slashed and carved into, and it was the night of a full moon.

He only had one option. He would have to walk home. Sure, he could take the shortcut through the woods, but it was a full freaking moon. Totally not a good idea. Plus, Scott and the pack were probably running around chasing each other's tails like they always do on pack nights, and would probably smell his blood a mile away.

Speaking of pack nights. Stiles couldn't help but notice that they didn't even call to check to see why he was late. Was he even part of the pack anymore? He used to always run with the wolves. Hell, he never minded watching them act like idiots as they shifted into their full-wolf form and played fetch. Okay, maybe they never played fetch, but what they actually did was probably pretty similar. Still, what changed? Did they finally get annoyed of having a human in the pack? Was he no longer even part of the pack?

He wondered if Mason was there. Or Lydia. Both don't shift, but he had a feeling they were both there, watching and laughing.

Stiles felt his heart sink. He threw his arms into his pockets, shiving in the cold. The wet blood on his clothes didn't help, either. He ended up walking along side the road, knowing that it was going to take a lot longer to get home this way.

A part of him wished that someone would stop and recognize him, then ask to bring him home. But, he didn't want to talk about it. In fact, he was still thinking about what he could use as an excuse when people ask about it tomorrow. Well, if the pack even notices it. or him.

As if they care.

He heard rustling in the leaves, then a stick snap in half. Stiles spun around, seeing nothing. He hoped no one was there. He also hoped if there was anyone, it wasn't Scott or anyone else. He didn't want them to see him like this.

Stiles turned back around and started walking. He heard another stick break. Then another.

Seriously, it almost sounded like whoever was doing this was trying to scare him on purpose.

"Fuck you, man." Stiles mumbled under his breath. If it was who he thought it was, they would have heard him.

There was no sound. No more sticks breaking, or rustling of the leaves, or even a voice saying, 'Aw darn, you caught me.'. Nope. Stiles had finally thought this little game was over as he saw the headlights of a car heading his way. He began to raise his hands to wave, but something grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into the darkened woods.

His back met the wet, dirty ground. He groaned in pain and looked up. He could see a dark figure above him, placing it's hand over his mouth as it whispered, "Shh..." The figure looked at the road, watching as the car zoomed past. The headlights had gave him enough time to see whoever it was attacking him was a white man. He wasn't big, so he was sure it wasn't Brett or the other two football players. He only hoped they didn't come around trying to get another throw at him. He had no energy. His body was too weak from all the hittings and the lack of food, and the fact that he had to walk all the way home.

Stiles wasn't sure why, but he didn't feel scared. That is, until he saw a shiney blade press against his neck. His eyes widened as the cold metal touched his skin, brushing down his neck and two his arm. The man was now only holding his arm. Stiles tried to get up quickly, but the man pushed him down again. He could feel the blade rip his skin on his arm, and suddenly he felt the warm breath of the man as he drank his blood from the new wound.

He wondered why he was doing this. He wondered why it felt like he coudn't move. It was as if he was paralyzed, just letting the man drink his fucking blood. Was he a vampire? No, that couldn't be true. Werewolves? Yes. Vampires? God no.

The man had sat up. After what seemed like a long moment of silence, he spoke softly. "I thought you were just a useless human. Didn't know you knew about the supernatural world.." He laughed quietly then continued, "And I wouldn't really call myself a vampire."

Wait, did he just read his mind? Stiles eye's were wide as ever. The man was not longer holding him down, and yet, it was as if Stiles just couldn't move.

He was able to see as the man pressed the blade on his arm arm, letting the blood flow freely. He watched as the man leaned over his body again, letting his blood drip into his fresh wound.

Stiles felt another wave of nausea, as he tried to squirm away. He really hoped he didn't have some infectious disease.

Oh god, but he did practically admit he was a supernatural. What if whatever he was doing made him turn into...him? What ever he was, Stiles didn't want to know.

The man stood up, and suddenly, Stiles was able to sit up as well. A wave of dizziness and fear overcame him.

"What-" He gulped, "What did you do to me?"

The man smiled, and this time, Stiles could see it clear in the dark. He could even smell the iron-rich blood now. His heart skipped a beat.

"You'll see. Night night." He said, and suddenly, Stiles was welcoming the darkness once again.

0o0o0o

Also, fellow readers, I might want to mention that I'm the kind of person (more like, Sadist or chaos-craving) that finds joy in stories where my favoirte character is hurt (but MUST live). So, be warned.

Also, there will probably be a LOT of mention of pain in...well, any of my stories.

I have chronic pain (seven years and counting) and so, my mind is pretty much always thinking 'pain pain pain pain pain' so yeah, you can see why it's something that shows up a lot in any story I right. If this bothers you, then I do apologize. :P