AN: Chapter 1! Here we go, before we start I'd like to say that there is no solid pairing in this fic. Its open ended, it can go any way. It may end up clicking with Derek, Isaac, Scott, Jackson, Lydia an OOC... As I said, open ended.
Chapter 1
A soft moan broke through the mundane hum of the muted television. Genim "Stiles" Stilinski shifted uncomfortably at his desk, the chair creaking gently as he broke out of his hazy slumber. The 16 year old straightened, awkwardly stretching upwards and wincing when a kink in his shoulder made itself known.
This is not how Stiles wanted to spend his Friday nights.
The aftermath of the Kanima incident gave the awkward group anything but closure. Gerard, the wicked bastard, escaped. He had somehow managed to flee the scene when they were all preoccupied with Jackson's death, followed by his revival… And then his transformation. Stiles had always wondered about that, Lydia's kiss must have been truly magical. He silently squashed the thought, reminding himself that he'd likely never be on the receiving end of such.
Putting that aside, something about that night perturbed Stiles, more so than the other bewildering turn of events.
Just how did an elderly man-recently-turned-werewolf survive spewing his insides in the form of black ooze, his blood teaming with toxic wolfsbane and somehow -still- manage to pull himself up and escape? Fast enough to avoid a skilled hunter and a pack of werewolves no less. It made no sense. None at all.
Which brings us to now.
A tired huff escaped Stiles' lips as he groggily rubbed his eyes before running his fingers through his short, cropped hair.
"Damn it…" he muttered as he glared at his computer screen. His whisky coloured eyes flickering over the latin words before him. Derek and Scott have (once again) left him with the research. They wanted to know how Gerard managed to elude them. Not to mention expecting him to have more of the bestiary translated. The frustrated teen huffed as he skimmed through the text.
He shook his head, as he tried to rid himself of the exhaustion. It's not like he wasn't used to the rigour of this kind of research, in fact, Stiles was more than familiar with late hours, copious reading and a knack for sieving through fiction. Its just that recently things have been different, to the point where he'd began questioning whether his part in all of this was really worth the effort.
To paint an accurate picture, it's only right to review how it all began. Or rather, with who it began.
It was Scott.
His best friend was the single most important living person in his life besides his father. If he hadn't been bitten none of this would have happened-
"..." An awkward silence accompanied that thought.
All the blame couldn't be pinned on Scoot. If Stiles hadn't coerced him to go into the woods looking for a dead body, perhaps all the supernatural mishaps, the research, the bruises, the danger could have been avoided.
Initially his overwhelming guilt, curiosity and his attachment to Scott fuelled his investment in the supernatural, but all Stiles really yearned for was a normal high school life. He wanted to get a girlfriend. He wanted to fall in love. And he definitely wanted to lose his virginity- he wanted it all. Unlike Scott, he didn't have supernatural powers to grant him the perfect immune systems, lovely skin, rippling muscles and a keen sense of smell that could sniff out emotions.
Besides, Scott seemed to be doing just fine since Stiles helped reign in his wolf. He got everything he'd wanted after the bite. Before the Kanima, his focus was almost entirely on Allison and their love. Stiles didn't judge him at all, its perfectly reasonable to spend time with your girlfriend. I mean hey, why rain on his parade? Stiles only saved his life and stood beside him since the third grade- why should he expect some time aside where the conversation wouldn't revolve around Scott and his girlfriend? So Stiles was a little bitter.
After his break up with Allison and her planned departure to France, Stiles was practically bouncing off the walls at the prospect of finally spending the whole summer with Scott. Of course this was after the solemn understanding and sympathy he felt towards his best friend's plight. Stiles planned all sorts of fun movie nights and gaming marathons to pull his best friend out of his gloom and doom. Alas, it seemed like life had other plans.
Scott only got worse.
His dearest best friend has been spending most of his time with Isaac Lahey- Derek's recently turned minion. A tall, sexy minion- One of three.
Figures a roguishly, unfairly attractive man like Derek Hale would find suitably unfairly attractive underlings.
Beneath his bitter pain and frustration, Stiles was secretly happy for his best friend. He was surrounded by people like him. People who understood what he was going through. Friends to learn from and a pack who needed him to cope with their wolves. Stiles was only human after all. A boring old Human. Why keep him around? He was part of the race that was basically seen as poultry by the supernatural world. Weakest, unaware and otherwise completely bland.
And frankly? Stiles wouldn't have it any other way.
He didn't want to become a beast. A monstrous creature that forgot the fundamental basics of morality, corrupted by power and desire. Stiles paused, having lost his focus on the manuscript before him. He sighed and glanced around the room. He wasn't going to get any sleep anytime soon, so he figured he may as well clean his room. He got up and walked around his bare feet rustling the blue carpet as he went about picking up the sprawled books and the littered clothing.
He let his thoughts wander as he went about the mundane task of tidying. He heard from Danny that Jackson was still around. Technically he was supposed to be leaving by the end of the summer, not that Stiles minded, in fact he was delighted that the jockey prick was leaving. With him gone, maybe there was tiny minuscule shred of a chance that Lydia would notice him.
Lydia...
He honestly loved her. He was smitten with her since the third grade. Her lovely eyes, perfect complexion and riveting hair, and that smile. That luminescent smile. What's there not to love? Well, besides the snarky personality. But Stiles overlooked it. He knew the real Lydia, the girl beneath the cold placid exterior. He had seen her warmth a few times, and it was then in middle school that Stiles Stilinski decided that Lydia Martin was a goddess of sorts. Well, if not a Goddess, she was something. Ridiculously intelligent, beautiful, prone to finding dead bodies and appearing in the most inopportune times? Immune to the werewolf bite? Yes, Lydia Martin was no ordinary human and until he found out what she was, he would think of her as the unattainable goddess roaming the halls of Beacon High.
Stiles shut his eyes and let himself fall backwards, moaning softly when his back hit the comfortable feathery fluff that was his beloved bed. He lay there a moment, rolling over as he wrapped the comforter around himself. He inhaled softly in its embrace. He laughed softy, a bitter wistful sound.
"How far have you fallen, Stiles?" He murmured quietly. He was lonely, he could admit that much. His friends had their own lives. His father was busy, and Stiles never wanted to burden him with his silly teenage troubles. It was enough that he was a single father to a very expensive, troublesome kid. They haven't gotten to spend much time together recently, the occasional dinner here and there. And of course, Stiles always cooked.
The teen enjoyed cooking. It was one of the reminiscent memories he had of his mother. It made him feel closer to her.
Before she passed, Stiles would always help with dinner. Humming softly on the chair as he watched her make the most delicious meals, the skill somehow passed down to him, not that anyone knew that. He'd never cooked for anyone but himself and his father. It wasn't that he was embarrassed- it came down to no one staying long enough to find out. After all, who comes into the home of a busy sheriff and teenager with ADHD and expect a well prepared meal.
It was still painful, how much he missed his mother. As much as his father still missed her.
Stiles often hoped his father would eventually move on. That he'd try and be happy again, but he always held back. And Stiles couldn't help but feel he was partially responsible.
Stiles was pulled out of his musings by the sound of his window opening. He rolled his eyes and grumbled. "Dude, Scott, do you know what time it is-" As Stiles turned to the window, he stopped mid sentence and blinked a few times, it wasn't his childhood friend standing there.
"Derek?" He asked uncertainly.
The dark, brooding alpha silently ducked in through his window. He crossed his arms over his chest, the black t-shirt doing nothing to hide the chiselled body beneath. It was like the gods had sculpted the tor- 'Bad thoughts' He mentally reprimanded himself, he wasn't checking Derek out. He was just making an observation. Completely impartial observation. Totally.
Stiles cleared his throat and glanced around his room. Derek stood silently, watching Stiles behind his placid mask of indifference. His brows furrowed into his trademark scowl.
"Stiles.." He growled, as his eyes narrowed. The teenager's heart thumped in his chest and he swallowed nervously, a bead of sweat rolling down his neck. So maybe he was still a little afraid of Derek, especially when they were alone. He was an alpha werewolf for god's sake! One who proved more than a handful of times he wasn't against inflicting bodily harm to get his way.
"Look, I didn't do it! I swear it was probabl-"
"Why didn't you come today?" Derek cut him off, his tone laced with irritation. Stiles blinked a few times before he tilted his head in confusion.
"Come where?" He replied carefully, his fingers running over the hem of his t-shirt.
Derek growled again and took a step forward. "Pack meeting."
Stiles blinked again, his whisky coloured eyes focusing on the alpha's face. "Why am I supposed to go to pack meetings? I am not even a werewolf- not saying I want to be." he quickly added. "I have enough on my plate at the moment, flees and pining I definitely -don't- need to add to the lis-" A growl cut through his words and Stiles frowned, untangling himself from the comforts of his blanket and sitting up on his bed.
"I am serious Derek, I am not a member of any pack." He crossed his arms and turned his head up to match Derek's gaze. "I am fragile, okay? I can't go around throwing my life into all sorts of dangerous freaky supernatural, I am not buffy. And I sure as hell don't heal like you do."
Stiles glanced away, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I am the only thing my dad has left, I can't be so selfish anymore."
Derek chose to remain Silent, his eyes glowed red as he leaned forward and sniffed. "We'll protect you."
Stiles new the alpha was trying to reach out to him in his own way, but his words only caused the teen to bristle. "I don't need you to protect me, Derek." He shut his eyes and held the bridge of his nose. "Look, I am just busy- if you need me for something specific, you know my number." He exhaled softy, his eyes fluttering open to gaze up at the Alpha.
Derek watched him silently for a few moments and Stiles shifted on the balls of his feet awkwardly. To him, it felt like forever before the Alpha finally spoke.
"Fine." His tone was rough, curt and irritable.
Stiles blinked a few times, rolling his eyes. "Did you really need all those agonising seconds of silence before saying fine?"
"Yes." Was the wolf's gruff answer. Stiles eyed the werewolf flatly, waiting for him to say more. Derek, as though to spite him, turned around, ducked halfway out of the window.
"Look up what you can on alpha packs, we suspect they may be coming to town." And he was gone. Stiles' jaw fell open.
"What a sour doucheba-" a loud growl had Stiles's mouth shut quickly. The teen shivered, flinching as he went to his desk, muttering silently to himself as he began his research.
"I am growing Wolfsbane around the house. And I might as well bury a circle of mountain ash too." he grumbled. It wasn't a bad idea, really. This way he could protect his home from the potentially dangerous pack of Alphas and enjoy a werewolf free haven.
"Killing two birds with one stone."
AN: That's it for chapter one! Please let me know what you think, its my first teenwolf fic and it's been a while since I've written any stories. If you'd also like to beta or co-write please get in touch! I am happy to listen to criticism too, I know it'll take a while before I can get the characterisation right.