{Prologue

Stiles bends down to get a closer look at the strange substance swirling in the leaves in front of him. It moves and wisps up like smoke, but has the consistency of water. It looks grey at first but pulsates into a pale blue. His eyes become locked on it, and he finds himself reaching out to it. He tries desperately to pull back, but he can't; it's beginning to control him. He tries to call for help, but he can't. The smoky liquid coils up and feels cold against his fingertips. 'Nothing like this was in the bestiary,' Stiles thinks just before his mind goes blank and his eyes burn gold.

{Chapter 1

Mr. Stilinski comes into the living room and sees Stiles lying on the couch.

"You okay?" he asks, and his son looks up at him with a slightly confused but mostly blank look on his face.

"No." He clears his throat and sits up a little. "I mean, yeah, I'm fine."

That was a strange answer. The Sheriff, ever a detective, goes over to his son and places his hand on his forehead. "Stiles, you're freezing. Go get some warmer clothes out of your room."

"My room?"

"Yes, the room upstairs that has your bed and personal belongings in it… Is something wrong? Did you hit your head? Did someone try to beat you up again? Are you on drugs?"

"I'm fine. Nothing is wrong. I'm just cold and tired." He turns and begins walking up the stairs. Halfway up he pauses and turns around. "Dad?"

Mr. Stilinski looks up at him. "Yeah?"

"Just checking." Stiles turns back and finishes making his way up to his room. The Sheriff sighs, hoping his son hasn't completely lost his mind.

Once in his room, Stiles closes the door and locks it. "Stop it… Stop what?" He clamps his hand over his mouth and sinks down to the floor. He breathes deeply and tries not to have a panic attack. Something is happening. Something…

He gets back up and staggers over to his desk. He can't hold himself up for long and kneels down. His lungs are burning, and he feels like he is inhaling smoke. He gasps for air as he dials his boyfriend's number.

"Derek," he chokes out.

"I can't talk right now."

"No, please don't hang up." Stiles is desperate. This is bad. Something is seriously wrong. He wheezes between coughs. Can't Derek hear that something is wrong?

"Stiles, I'm busy. Call somebody else and bother them." Derek hangs up on him.

"No, Der…" All he can hear is his phone beeping, signaling the other person has ended the call. After all the times he has saved the pack, the one time he needs help, Derek cuts him off. He clenches his teeth in anger and squeezes the cell phone so tight the cheap plastic cracks and breaks apart. The change is instant. His body is no longer weak or cold. A piece of the phone's screen scratches against the palm of his hand and makes it bleed. His golden eyes look at the red fluid, and the corners of his mouth turn up in a sinister grin.

"Thanks for the chat, Derek. I feel better now." He picks up something off the floor with his bloody hand and places it around his neck. Stiles gracefully prances down the stairs and heads toward the door. As he turns the last corner, he runs straight into his father.

He looks his son up and down and notices that he hasn't changed his clothes, but his whole demeanor and way he carries himself has transformed. "Stiles, something is going on with you. I think we should get to the doctor." He reaches out to touch Stiles' shoulder, but the boy moves back.

Cocking his head to the side like a curious dog, he moves until he can make direct eye contact with his dad. He lets his eyes glow a furious shade of yellow and speaks with a low, hypnotizing, sing-song voice. "Stiles is fine, upstairs doing his homework like a good little boy. Go to work. He will be fine by himself."

Without a word, Mr. Stilinski turns around and leaves the house. Stiles chuckles and makes a comment to no one in particular about how easy it is to control 'stupid humans.' On his way out of the house he pauses in the kitchen. His mouth begins to water as he opens the refrigerator. There are just some left-overs, but food is food. Repaying Derek for his earlier kindness can wait until lunch is finished.

When Derek pulls up in his driveway, he can see Stiles lounging on the porch. One leg hangs off the front step, and he is staring at the awning. He looks around because something is missing.

"Where's your Jeep?" Derek asks as he walks toward his burnt out shell of a house.

"I couldn't get it to start." Stiles laughs.

"Your Jeep is a piece of junk."

"Tell me about it." He turns his head and smiles at his boyfriend. As he sits up, his expression changes. "Speaking of pieces of junk… Why'd you hang up on me?"

"Sorry about that." He sits down next to Stiles. "I was working on some things with Peter."

"You should have taken time to hear what I had to say."

"What did you need?"

"It doesn't matter now." He smiles mischievously. "I was just being… clingy… I guess." He continues to grin.

"What are you grinning about?" Derek tentatively smiles, a little put off by the way Stiles is acting.

"Wanna have sex?" Stiles asks as he rests his chin on Derek's shoulder and looks at him with large, playful eyes.

Derek chokes on his breath and laughs nervously. He pulls away. "Stiles, not until you're eighteen. We made a deal."

"Oh come on, big guy…" Stiles takes Derek's face in his hand and turns it so they are looking at each other. His eyes burn with color. "… you know you want to."

Derek forcefully collapses onto the bed. Stiles climbs on top of him and begins to rip the man's shirt off. The buttons pop off and clatter to the floor. Derek takes his boyfriend's face in his hands and pulls him closer.

They kiss forcefully and continuously for quite some time. Derek finally pulls away to gasp in air. He feels a little weak, and his body is tingling. Something feels off, but all he can think of is the fact that Stiles is beginning to unbutton his pants.

The boy leans down to kiss him one last time before they go on to other things. As their lips meet, Derek feels even weaker, like the life is being sucked out of him. He pulls away.

"What's wrong?" Stiles says as he rises up and sits on Derek's legs.

"I don't feel so good." Derek swallows, hoping he doesn't pass out.

Stiles gives him a pat on the cheek that is more like a slap. "Rest, then." He curls his lip up into a snarly smile. "I'll see you later."

Derek drops his head back on the bed as he tries to breathe. He can see Stiles slink out of the room. He soon drifts into unconsciousness. It takes a few minutes, but, when he comes to, he feels normal. He thinks it must have just been a dream, but, if he would have been conscious, he would have been able to see Stiles smiling to himself while walking back home through the blustery woods.

That evening Stiles goes out to eat with Scott and Allison. When Scott first called to invite him to go along, Stiles had acted like he had no idea who Scott was. He shrugged it off though, because Stiles is always acting weird like that.

The trio heads out to a local sushi bar. Allison loves sushi and has eaten it many times before. She orders a sampler platter for them. Scott has never tried any of it nor has he ever wanted to try it. So, when it comes out, and he sees it, he decides to order something American off of the kid's menu.

Stiles, on the other hand, digs right in. He tries some of each item- caterpillar rolls, fried calamari, fresh clams and oysters, steamed mussels, miso soup with tofu, steamed rice, tuna rolls, and tobiko sushi with quail egg. He tries it all, but one of his favorites is the deep fried tofu. The server says it is the house specialty- the restaurant is named after it actually. All of the little pouches of them are gone in five minutes, so they order some more. He ends up eating all of them, too.

"I didn't think you would like it so much. It's kind of an acquired taste." Allison playfully hits his arm.

"It was good." Stiles states flatly.

"No it wasn't." Scott looks green.

"You didn't even try it. How would you know if it was good or not?" Allison giggles as she links her arm with her boyfriend's. Stiles rolls his eyes at how they act together. It's disgusting.

The burnt and crumbling clock at the Hale house strikes nine o'clock when Derek enters. It startles him to find Stiles standing there in what used to be the family room. He should have been able to hear him before he got there.

"What are you doing here?" questions Derek.

"I like your house." Stiles twirls around a figurine that remains on the mantle even after all these years. "There's something about it…"

"I used to like it, too." Derek lowers his head.

"I'm sorry about this afternoon." He apologizes as he steps toward Derek.

"This afternoon…" Derek tries to think. He was hoping that strange feeling he had earlier had just been a dream or something.

"You weren't feeling well, and I left. I should have made sure that you were okay." Stiles moves closer to him.

Derek backs up against the couch. "I was fine."

"Good," Stiles says as he leans into Derek, kissing him. Derek sinks back, and they roll over the arm of the couch and land on the cushions.

Derek's heart speeds up. Usually Stiles isn't this forceful, but Derek likes the change. That is, he likes the change until they are kissing, and he gets that same weak feeling. He tries to push Stiles away, but he's being too forceful. It is like he is being drained of energy, but he has to admit the kissing is still good.

As Stiles wildly has his way with his boyfriend, his fingernails dig into Derek's flesh and scratch across his chest. Derek jerks and pushes Stiles away from him.

"Ouch." Derek looks at him with furrowed brows. "What are you doing?"

Stiles quirks his head as he sits there. He has a maniacal look in his eyes. "Having fun." He rolls his body back down and licks the oozing blood away.

Derek can't breathe, and not in a good way. He's about to pass out. "Stop!"

Derek opens his eyes and is alone in the room. He looks around from his spot on the couch and tries to figure out what is happening. Wasn't Stiles just here? He feels like he's going crazy. Two hallucinations in one day?

He breathes deeply to try to calm his heart rate. As he tries to stand up, he realizes he is still weak. When he looks down he sees that the wife beater he is wearing has claw marks ripped through the chest.

As soon as he has enough strength to walk, he goes outside. There is a thick fog clinging to the forest floor. Derek runs to Scott's house as fast as he can force himself to go. When he gets there he pounds on the door. Scott opens the door and stares at him.

"What's wrong?!"

"There's something going on. We have to find Stiles." Derek pants after speaking. He's never felt so tired.

"Find Stiles? What are you talking about? He's right here." As Scott points out, Stiles is right there in the McCall living room.

"Hey man, what's up?" Stiles happily asks.

Derek growls and stalks toward Stiles. "When did he get here?"

"He's been with me all day," Scott says as he holds Derek back.

"Yeah, you said you didn't feel well, so I left your place and went to eat with Scott and Allison. We came back and have been playing video games ever since."

Derek leans against the wall as his legs give out. He sinks to the floor and covers his face with his hands. He knew the stress in his life would get to him one day. This is it; it's happening. He's losing his mind.

"Dude," Stiles starts, "it looks like you've seen a ghost."

Scott bends down to him. "What's wrong?" When he doesn't answer, he turns to Stiles. "I think we should get him to Deaton's."

"Naw, he'll be fine." Stiles moves his head and widens his eyes in a stare. "It was just a nightmare. He's okay now." He turns to Derek. "You're okay now, aren't you? Go home."

Derek stands up and walks out the door without a word. Scott is still standing motionless, looking at Stiles. Stiles turns his attention back to his friend.

"Earth to Scott. Dude, why are you staring at me?" He gives him a cheesy grin. Scott blinks and furrows his brows. He shakes his head, and both of them go back to their video games.

They spend the rest of the night playing games and snacking on the food they brought home from the restaurant. He leaves near midnight and goes home. No one sees him the next day, but they don't really think anything of it. He's probably doing something with his father on his day off.

The next day, though, he is back at Scott's house playing video games. He lies on the floor of Scott's room while the teen goes on and on about how wonderful Allison is.

"Hey, what's this?" Scott asks as he pulls a metallic disc on a chain from around Stiles' neck.

"Give that back!" Stiles sounds vicious. He jumps up from the floor and corners his friend against the wall.

"Whoa, calm down. What is it?"

"It's mine." The wind howls outside, and Scott turns his head to look out the window. Stiles snatches the chain back and storms from the house.

"Oh, come on, Stiles!" Scott goes outside but his best friend is nowhere to be seen.

Later that afternoon, Stiles and Derek are together again. Derek has been pushed onto the bed by his boyfriend and is now watching as he walks toward him. It's a seductive little walk, and Derek is glad he can enjoy it. He has been feeling better lately; less weak and less breathless. He is having a good time until he sees Stiles walk past a mirror. Derek's heart races. The reflection flickers like it is being affected by a strobe light. It flashes between Stiles, a short dog-like creature, and the form of a woman.

Stiles must see Derek's change because he turns to look in the mirror. He cocks his head as he looks back at Derek. His features take on an evil appearance, or at least Derek thinks they do. Stiles continues to stalk over, and he climbs on top of him.

"See something?" The boy questions.

"What are you?" Derek asks as he tries to back away.

A mischievous giggle flows from Stiles' mouth. "Wait and see."

Before Derek can grab him, he is gone. Or, was he ever there? Something is going on, Derek can feel it now. Something is evil. Something is wrong.