So FYI this is meant to be stiles centric. However, for some reason I decided that the prologue should be in the Sheriff's POV.

Some Nights

Some nights, I stay up cashing in my bad luck

Some nights, I call it a draw

Some nights, I wish that my lips could build a castle

Some nights, I wish they'd just fall off

Prologue.

He thought last year was bad, what with all the murders and mysterious disappearances. It had been exhausting. His son had turned up at almost as many crime scenes as the murderer himself. For a second he had thought…

Well, it was Stiles. He didn't know what he thought. But he knew that even if there had been a pattern, even if his son had been lying, and getting into some legal trouble himself, he could never be mixed up in something so big.

But it was suspicious.

And if last year was bad, he didn't know what this was. This was… he was in over his head on this one. Ever since the beginning of summer, things had been getting crazy. They had finally found the murderer, a stupid kid who had no idea what he was getting himself into, and only a few weeks later more murders had started.

At first he had thought it was a copy-cat, as many of the murders appeared to be animal attacks. But than some of them weren't. Some of the victims were kids. Some adults. Some male, female. Black. White. Asian. It didn't seem to matter.

The way they were murdered was different too. Some had used weapons like a gun or knife, others appeared to be claws. There was even a poisoning up at the hospital in which several people were deathly ill and one who had a pre-disposed condition had actually died. It made no sense.

There was just no pattern.

Some of the murders were instrumental and some were hostile. Sometimes organized and some disorganized. There had been an "undoing" of the crime with some victims, in which they had been arranged in such a way that the murderer could almost pretend they were just sitting there watching tv; as if they hadn't dragged them from the bathroom (where they had bashed the victim's head against the sink so hard it had killed them) into the living room and sat them up on the couch; as if it were perfectly natural. Other victims had been torn apart, their body practically a piece of art, leaving their signature behind in their skin.

The sheriff had long since brought in state police, hell, he'd even contacted the FBI, but it didn't seem to help much. The sheer amount of murders in the past few months left the sheriff wishing he hadn't taken the job. Made him seriously consider packing his son up and taking him somewhere safe, like Beacon Hills bad been just a few years before.

Every time he left for work he found himself praying he wouldn't find Stiles or Scott or one of their new friends tied up to a tree by their intestines. Every night (or day, really) he feared he'd come home to find his son bleeding at his desk, appearing to be doing homework.

It was quite obvious that the people doing these murders were just that, people. As in plural. As far as the sheriff was concerned, there were at least four of them, two of them being much sicker than the others. Each victim was another master piece.

The sheriff almost yearned for a nice domestic, rather than the murders, which is funny, considering how much of a pain in the ass they used to be.

But he couldn't help but harboring a feeling of foreboding. Well, it was obvious something big was going down. But he couldn't help but think that he was getting just a little bit closer, like he was on the edge of a real breakthrough.

He sighed as he brought a hand up to his face, scrubbing at it with sleepy frustration. He looked at the clock. 1:48 A.M. If a breakthrough was going to happen soon it sure as hell wasn't going to be tonight. Not right now, at any rate. He slowly gathered up his folders (a manila folder for each alleged murderer. He had named each one in his head and did his best to figure out which murder belonged to which one. It was the only way he could make sense of any of this) as he stood up. He felt an overwhelming desire to call Stiles right now; just to be sure he was okay. God knows what that kid could get up to on his own, without his town being run by murderers and mountain lions. But it was 2 o'clock in the morning and it would just freak the boy out. Besides, it was his first day back at school tomorrow. If his kid had miraculously done as he was told, and went to bed at a decent hour… well, then the Sheriff wasn't going to be the one to wake him.

Sooo… I haven't written anything in years. I'm sorry if I'm a bit rusty. But anyway, I hope you like the prologue. This generally won't happen, but as I'm still feeling the whole writing thing, I may post another chapter tonight or tomorrow afternoon. I hope you like it though, let me know!