Techno music blared from the speakers overhead, reverberating in Stiles' ears, causing his entire body to feel like it was vibrating. People danced and grinded around him, bumping into him, and he barely suppressed a growl as he maneuvered around the crowd, feeling very much like Derek in that moment.

He hadn't wanted to go to the grand opening of the new, all ages club, but Lydia had insisted he go. 'Everyone is going to be there, Stiles,' she had said at school, while they were walking to calculus. 'I'll even save you a dance.' He had agreed to go after those words. Damn him and his stupid crush.

He was jostled again, stumbling over his feet. He knocked into a pretty blonde, almost knocking her to the floor. Instinctually, he reached out and grabbed her bare shoulders, barely recognizing her ice, cold skin, keeping her from falling over. Stiles muttered an apology, let her go, and then continued his trek through the wriggling, sweaty bodies scattered across the dance floor.

He found his friends sitting at a back table. Lydia and Jackson were sitting close together, whispering to each other. She giggled at something he said, and Stiles forced himself to look away. Next to them sat Scott and Allison, the latter sitting in the former's lap, laughing at something Isaac had just said. At the far end of the booth sat Boyd and Erica, so wrapped up in each other that Stiles had no idea where she began and he ended. The only one missing was Derek, and Stiles highly doubted Mr. Anti-Social Sour Alpha was going to show up here tonight.

"Hey guys," Stiles greeted sitting down next to Isaac.

"Hi," Allison and Scott said together. Isaac waved, Jackson nodded, and Lydia sniffed, "You're late."

"Jeep wouldn't start," Stiles lied resting his hands on the table. In all honesty, he had a very Cameron Frye approach to tonight. He sat in his jeep for ten minutes, debating whether or not to go, before getting out. He then walked six steps towards his house, turned around, and went back to his jeep. He then debated another ten minutes, got out, scowled in a very Derek-like way, and then got back in the jeep, started it, and drove here. But it was better just to tell everyone his vehicle wouldn't start; it made him sound less crazy.

"What's wrong with it?" Allison asked curiously.

Stiles shrugged noncommittally before turning his attention to Isaac and he asking, "So, what's Derek doing tonight?"

"Arguing with the contractor," Isaac replied with a small smile. Stiles grinned back remembering the guy Lydia insisted Derek hire. The man had too many ideas for the Hale house, ideas Derek did not want to hear, but wouldn't take no for an answer. They had had a total of sixteen arguments, twelve that resulted in Derek storming out of the house only to return after a few hours. Stiles had asked him why he hadn't just fired the man, but Derek had begrudgingly admitted that he knew what he was doing, and that he wasn't going to fire someone who knew a lot more about rebuilding a house than he did.

"What does he want to do this time?" Stiles asked curiously.

"He wants to take out the bay windows in the library and replace them with French doors," Erica explained ungluing her lips from Boyd's. "Derek won't let him."

"That's because Laura liked to sit there and read," Stiles said without thinking and looked down at the table when the others gave him questioning looks. "He mentioned it once," he muttered fiddling with a hangnail on his left thumb.

The table was quiet for a moment, but finally Lydia said, "Oh my God, Jackson. I love this song." She grabbed the blue eyed wolf's hand, practically crawled over Boyd and Erica, who had started making out again, and rushed towards the dance floor with Jackson grumbling, "You're going to pull my arm out of socket."

"It'll heal," she snapped as they disappeared into the crowd. Allison and Scott got up to join them, leaving Isaac and Stiles sitting together, trying very hard not to look over at the kissing couple.

"So, how's things?" Stiles asked absentmindedly, his eyes seeking out Lydia.

"Fine," Isaac replied resting his arms on the table.

"That's great." Unconsciously, he began nodding his head to the music, some song that came out ten years ago. "I'm surprised Derek let you guys come here tonight. I mean, we've spent the past three weeks fighting Alphas, getting them out of town. I thought he'd make you guys hibernate or something."

"We're not bears, Stiles," Isaac stated sounding amused. "Besides, he practically pushed us out the door tonight. He said we were giving him a headache and acting childish and some other stuff."

"Yeah, well anything remotely fun would give him a headache," Erica commented drily, again ungluing her lips from Boyd's. "He wouldn't know fun if it bit him in the ass."

"Yeah," Stiles responded half listening to the conversation, his eyes finally settling on Lydia and Jackson. They were dancing way too close, his mouth all over hers, and Stiles made a face before getting to his feet, startling the werewolves. "Who wants a drink? I want a drink. Can I get you a drink?" They shook their heads. "Alrighty then. I'll be right back."

He moved away from the table, maneuvering through the crowd again, making a point to avoid Lydia and Jackson. He was being pathetic, he knew this, God he knew this, but a part of him couldn't help it. He knew he should have been used to them being together, it had almost been a year since Jackson's 'death.' Since Lydia brought him back with her love or whatever. They had fought Alphas together; he had seen them together almost every single day. He should have been used to them. Stiles needed to move on; he and Lydia were just not meant to be together.

With a frustrated sigh, he stopped next to the bar. There were a couple of twenty-somethings bartending, serving the honest under aged kids soda and juice and the liars and twenty-one and over people whatever they wanted. Stiles wondered how many kids had fake ids, secretly wishing he had one, but ended up ordering a coke when the bartender asked what he wanted.

"Thanks," he said to the guy, taking the proffered coke, and snaked his way through the crowd again. He took a sip of the coke on the way, trying to avoid looking Lydia and Jackson's way again. He heard someone call his name, his eyes looking around, settling on Danny and some dude dancing a few feet away. Danny waved, Stiles waved back, and he continued on his way back towards his table.

As he sat down, very much aware of the empty table now, he took another sip, making a face. It tasted differently from before, almost metallic, and he suddenly didn't want it. He put the coke down, pushing it away from him. He really hoped someone didn't put something in it. Though, with his luck, they did and now he was going to be riding the E-train or something. He'd just have to make sure the lights didn't start attacking him or anything. Or maybe he was just being paranoid and it was actually bad ice or something.

Yeah, it's just bad ice, he told himself, but he still wouldn't touch the coke. He leaned back into the booth, seeking out his friends, noticing Boyd and Erica grinding against each other on the dance floor. Isaac was talking to a red-head that Stiles recognized from their history class, standing a few paces away from his socially inappropriate brethren. Scott and Allison were laughing as the former tried to dance. And Lydia and Jackson were trying to do a pretty damn good impression of Boyd and Erica.

Stiles leaned forward, letting his elbows rest on the table, wishing he had stayed home. At least at home he wouldn't be potentially drugged, watching the girl he loved jam her tongue down some other dude's throat. He could be playing video games, trying to get to level fifty on Halo. He hadn't had much video game time since the Alphas attacked, but since they were gone now, since they could breathe easier, Stiles had time now. He really should just go home.

He stood up, sent a quick text to Scott saying he was going home, and moved through the crowd for the fourth time that night. He managed to get to the door with minimum jostling and burst outside. As he headed towards his jeep, he was suddenly very much aware of someone watching him. At first, he actually thought it was Derek, the creeper up to his stalker-ish ways again, but there was something off about this feeling. Something Stiles couldn't put his finger on.

He sped up, digging his keys out of his pocket. He fumbled with them, found the correct one, and shoved it in the lock the moment he reached his jeep. He unlocked the door, yanked the keys out, and jumped into his vehicle. He slammed the door, locking it. Breathing heavily, he leaned his head against the steering wheel, willing his heart to stop pounding in his chest, waiting for the feeling to go away.

The feeling, however, didn't go away, it seemed to get stronger, and Stiles knew he had to get the hell out of there like yesterday. He drew in a deep breath, shakily let it out, and picked up his head. He put his keys in the ignition, trying to ignore his trembling fingers, and started the jeep.

He drove home, keeping his eyes on the rear view mirror the entire drive, going twenty over the speed limit. He made it home safely, jumped out of his jeep, took a second to lock the door, and sprinted inside. He locked the door behind him, fought the urge to shove a chair under the knob, and ran all the way upstairs.

Stiles almost hid under his bed, but he knew that'd be pretty damn childish, so he opted to just hide under his blanket. A part of him was convinced if whatever was out there couldn't see him then they would leave him alone. It was childish, stupid, but his fear had taken his brain hostage.

It took a while for the adrenaline to wear off, for him to finally breathe easier, for logic reappear. He slowly let his blanket fall off his head, very much aware of being alone. He recalled the nasty tasting coke, and he wondered if that had been a side-effect of his potential drugging. He made a mental note to never go clubbing again. Bad ice my ass.

He lied down, burrowing into his blankets, closing his eyes, suddenly tired. Adrenaline sucked, especially when it sapped all the energy from someone's body. Stiles felt himself sinking into sleep, his breathing evening out.

Stiles had hardly been asleep a few hours when he awoke to a sharp pain in his stomach. He tasted bile in his throat, and he scrambled out of bed, barely making it to the bathroom. He landed hard on the floor, pain shooting through his knees, and vomited in the toilet. His stomach cramped again and he threw up a second time. He was never, ever going to a club again.

He dry heaved for a few moments, but finally he collapsed against the bathtub, totally spent, shaking crazily, his ragged breathing filling the room, listening to his heart pound against his chest. He ran a shaking hand through his hair, willing himself to get up, off the floor.

It took a few moments, but he was finally able to stand on trembling legs. He flushed the toilet, moving towards the sink. Blindly, he reached out, seeking out the light switch. His fingers found it and he flipped it up, very nearly blinding himself with the bright lights.

"Gah," he exclaimed flipping the light off again. That was bad idea.

He stumbled out of the bathroom, moving towards his bedroom. He slowly sat down, willingly himself to calm down, leaning forward, letting his forehead rest against his knees. As his body began to settle and his breathing and heart rate returned to normal, he was very much aware of the sound of a car door slamming. His father must have been home.

Slowly, Stiles stood up and moved towards the window. He glanced down, but didn't see his father's car; must have been a neighbor or something. He walked towards his bed again, slowly sinking down onto the mattress. He lied down on his side, crossing his arms over his stomach, closing his eyes.

He tried to sleep, but another car door slammed and he heard two people arguing. He then heard a dog bark, but he was fairly certain there were no dogs on his block. Maybe one of his neighbors bought a dog or something. Great, just what he needed, more dogs in his life. He sat up, intending to close his window, but then he remembered he hadn't opened it. Was someone…?

He scrambled out of bed, adrenaline pumping through his veins again, looking for a bat, but froze when he realized the window was closed and locked. Raising his eyebrows, he cautiously moved towards the window again. He looked down, but didn't see any arguing couple, no car, no dog. There wasn't anything down there to explain what he had heard.

A car door slammed, this one much closer, and Stiles heard keys in the lock before the front door open. He was very much aware of every footstep his father took, every breath he made, as he moved towards the kitchen. He heard the older man pour himself a drink, the smell of alcohol stinging Stiles' nose. He could practically taste the jack on his tongue, but he wasn't paying attention to any of that. He was more preoccupied with every single beat of his father's heart, of the blood he could hear pumping through his veins.

Stiles stumbled back, his knees hitting his bed. He fell onto the mattress, his eyes widening. Maybe it wasn't drugs that had been put in his drink. Maybe it was more… supernatural.

He fumbled in his pockets, snatching his cell phone from his left, hip pocket. He was very much aware of the sixteen or so text messages he had gotten from his friends, but he ignored those for now. He had to call Derek, see what the hell was going on, ask him if there was a possibility he could be…

His fingers fumbled over the buttons, his ears still tracking his father's movements, and he managed to hit send on Derek's number. The phone rang once before Derek answered, sounding very worried. "Stiles?"

"Ah," Stiles hissed, the older guy's voice hammering against his ears.

"Stiles?"

"Stop screaming," he whispered clenching his eyes shut.

"I'm not…" Derek trailed off, and very quietly said, "I'm coming over right now, okay?"

"My dad…"

"Unlock the window," Derek said and hung up. Stiles dropped his phone, forcing himself to stand up, and moved towards the window. He unlocked it; backing up until his back rested against the wall, he slowly sank to the ground. This wasn't happening. This could not be happening.

TW

Worry pulsed through Derek's veins as he sped down the road. Something had to be wrong with Stiles. He never called this late, nor would he have willingly called Derek at all. They were friendlier towards each other, and Derek even trusted Stiles more than the others, but they were far from friends. Stiles was still irritating as hell, and sometimes Derek thought about putting his head through a wall, but he'd never do it. Besides Stiles was pack, and if there was something wrong with him Derek needed to know.

He parked his car a few blocks away, made sure it was locked, and ran the rest of the way to Stiles' place, tapping into his wolf speed. He sprinted across Stiles' yard, leapt up to grab the edge of the house, swung himself up, onto the roof, and wrenched the window open.

The first thing he noticed was the difference in smell. Stiles usually gave off a pleasant, sunshine scent, usually masked by an array of emotions and Adderall. Now, even though the usual emotions and Adderall still lingered, his room lacked the sunshine scent. In fact, it sort of smelled like death. But Stiles was not dead, Derek could hear his heart beat fluttering somewhere in the room.

"Stiles," Derek whispered looking around for the kid, finding him huddled against the wall, knees drawn to his chest, shaking. Slowly the werewolf crossed the room, concern pumping through his veins and making his heart pound against his chest. "Stiles," he repeated, crouching down next to him, resting his hand on Stiles' shoulder.

In a flash, Stiles moved, knocking Derek backwards. The werewolf's head met the floor with an audible thud, his ears ringing. His vision swam and he felt Stiles land on his chest, his usual brown eyes shining purple. The kid flashed his teeth, two rows of sharp fangs, before he bent forward and sank them into Derek's neck.

I know, I know vampires aren't nearly as cool as werewolves, but I couldn't help writing this. I'm borrowing several different vampires from several different shows (i.e. Supernatural, Buffy, Moonlight, Being Human...) but I promise they will not sparkle, they will not be damn near impossible to kill, and Stiles may or may not be cured... you'll have to wait until the ending.

So, thanks for reading, I do not own these characters, and leave me a comment if you can.

Bye!