Edited by my lovely beta Kittiekatt : ).

Welcome to Beacon Hills

Chapter 2: Puzzles

Stiles managed to get to his jeep without the interference of the teachers or students, small miracles. Alright perhaps not miracles, more like him keeping to the back halls and then escaping out through the back door, but would you blame him? If you had to deal with Coach Finstock; and teenagers questioning you about the most irrelevant, inane things you'd run as well.

But the student that took the prize for the most uncomfortable questioning session of his life (including the ones from his deputy father) was Erica Reyes. Stiles shuddered. That was borderline sexual harassment. That was the thing–the way she was–it seemed...predatory, as in a predator hunting prey, and it made him feel defensive for his virtue and his body parts. At the same time.

Okay, he was not going to follow that thought pattern through. Stiles opened the door of his jeep, tossed his bag into the back, and then sat in the car, slowly leaving the parking lot still clustered by teenagers.

Later that night as he was drying his hair with his towel, he paused as he saw his laptop, he could look into a few things. He sat down in front of the laptop and stared at it, chewing his thumbnail. If he did this, there was no going back. He chewed on his bottom lip. There was a puzzle, perhaps multiple ones, in this town, potentially deadly–

Ah fuck it.

He opened the computer and waited for the screen to load. He logged in, his fingers flying over the keys as he typed. It was illegal and his dad was probably going to kill him for this, but he needed to figure this out. His dad would understand, there were kids –his students–involved in something. But there was something wrong with this town, something dark. It was this pressure that had settled over his chest since he had entered this town. At first he tried to ignore it, but it grew and now it weighed heavily on him. A sense of dread, of pain and fear, the same he had when his mother had gotten ill. An illness, this town was sick with something. It sounds stupid, insane, doesn't make sense but the feeling is there and it won't go away. Maybe if he figures things out, if he looks a little bit, the weight will disappear or at least not press so heavily against his chest.

He stared at the Beacon Hills Police Department's homepage and cracked his knuckles. It was time for some good old hacking.

-.-.-.-.-

Stiles looked at the reports spread out in front of him, eyes wandering from sheet to sheet as the timeline vaguely formed in his head. He quickly grabbed a pen and jotted down the dates of the murders and all the relevant information. Once he was done he stepped back and read over everything he had written. Around the time Laura Hale's body was discovered, the murders started, animal attacks apparently, and then Peter Hale goes missing, Lydia Martin is attacked, Isaac Lahey is arrested, Jackson Whittemore gets a restraining order, Erica and Boyd run away, oh and Derek Hale is arrested for the murder of his sister.

What the fuck was wrong with this town?

He chewed on his pen cap. So, the deaths in Beacon Hills started around the time that Laura Hale was–no. He shook his head. The deaths in this town started before that. The Hale fire. And that's why this was so weird. One of the last three remaining Hales dies, another goes missing, and the other is arrested for his own sister's death. Doesn't it seem like they were targeted? For an entire generation to be almost wiped out can't be a coincidence. Even the fire itself makes no sense. Nine people died– all found in the basement. Why were they there? The reports of the fire themselves were so unclear, vague, disjointed, had no significant information pertaining to the fire. Why was that? Then one of the deaths in town was the insurance inspector of that very same fire. There was no way that was a coincidence. Laura Hale comes into town, dies, her brother gets arrested, people start dying, and then her uncle goes missing.

Did no one in this town find that suspicious?

Seriously, one of the last remaining Hales dies, one goes missing, when he's comatose! And the other is arrested for his own sister's death. HOW IS THAT NOT WEIRD?!

He roughly ran his fingers through his hair, pulling lightly. Animal attacks is what they blamed it on, but the history of the area clearly states that there haven't been any animal attacks in years, 60 years to be exact. There is a remote possibility that it was actually an animal attack, but the likelihood of that, coinciding with Laura Hale's return was too much to be simply a probability.

Then there were his students; Jackson Whittemore, who previously had a restraining order against Scott McCall, but they are now friends? At the very least, he hangs out with the very person he filed the order against. Then all the delinquents bond together? And become friends?

Also, the glowing eyes in the forest and the howls.

His fingers twitched. So many puzzles to be solved. Stiles grinned. At least he wasn't going to be bored in this town.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Stiles got into the lunch line, glancing around the cafeteria aimlessly, his gaze wandering until it stopped on a table near the back. Huh, they all sat at lunch together, there had to be a way to gain information on–"Oh my god!" Stiles almost dropped his lunch tray, his arms practically straining, what the fuck? He turned back to look at the tray in his hands and almost threw it away from himself. There was a blood red, congealed substance in his tray, he was sure it bubbled, oozed and did it just hiss at him? He reeled back and looked up at the lunch lady and smiled although he was sure it looked more like grimace but hey his mother had raised a polite ass gentleman, so he thanked her. At least the fruit looked good. He grabbed a bunch of fruit, a pudding cup, and a bottle of water. After paying for everything, he wandered down the tables looking for a seat.

Stiles stopped and turned around as he came across Coach. He smirked. Would you look at that? He'd found a way to gain information. "Hey Coach, you mind if I sit with you today?"

Finstock stared at him for a moment and narrowed his eyes, chewing slowly. "Sure, Stilinski."

The younger man nodded in thanks and slid into the seat. Stiles looked around, his eyes stopping on the table that housed the teens in question. "So what can you tell me about those kids? The ones on the lacrosse team? Um, what were their names? The two team captains and their gang?"

Finstock eyed him strangely for a few seconds. "Why are you asking?"

Stiles shrugged and popped a strawberry into his mouth. "They're in my last period class, and, well, I had an...interesting encounter with them," he coughed uncomfortably.

Coach nodded. "You met Erica huh?"

He sighed. "You could say that."

"Hard to believe the girl was sick a year ago, used to get seizures, good for her, she's showing all those assholes who'd harass her."

Stiles' eyes widened, he leaned forward, interested. "You mean she just suddenly got better?"

Finstock nodded. "Yeah, probably some drug trial or something. Then there's the McCall kid. He was severely asthmatic, couldn't even keep up at practice, then all of a sudden he's doing fucking back-flips like a god damn gymnast on the field."

"What about the others?"

"Hell if I know. I remember that the Lahey kid used to be scared of his own shadow, then he grew a backbone, got all tough, Boyd, I can't say I remember him too much, kid was quiet, didn't have too many friends, works down at the rink. That's all I really know."

"When did Scott get better? Erica?"

Coach eyed him oddly. "I can't say I remember, probably around the tryouts last year."

Stiles edged closer, vibrating with excitement. "Around the time the first body was found right? Laura Hale's body, right?"

"Yeah, now that you mention it, was probably around then, and Erica probably around the string of murders, that's around the time those kids all started hanging around each other." Finstock looked down at Stiles' tray. "You gonna eat that?"

Stiles shook his head and pushed his tray towards the other man, and watched in disgust as Finstock struck his spoon into the red goo and ate it. He almost dry heaved, he quickly looked away. "I'll see you later Coach, I'm going to head on out."

Coach grunted and continued to eat. Stiles got up, grabbed his water bottle and left the cafeteria. So Scott and Erica mysteriously get better, their illnesses go away, they all start hanging out...and all of this occurs within the time period that all the deaths started happening. Something happened within that time, something that cured them and brought them together, and it wasn't drug trials. There were some cases where symptoms went away but for two to suddenly occur? And when murders were happening couldn't be a mere coincidence. Now all he had to figure out was what had happened during that time and he'd at least have solved one puzzle in this town.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Stiles glanced up, his pen dangling from his mouth as his last class trickled in. He grinned up at them, waving them inside. He spat out his pen and stood. "So I know I talked a little bit about the course yesterday but I want to continue on that part. I know that this class may not be important or relevant to some of you. You may have taken this class because you needed a credit or you may actually be interested in mythology. I honestly am fine with that, but I want you to understand one thing. I'm doing this because I love it, because I have an obsession for it and I want you to respect that. I don't want you to be half assed because you think it's easy. I want this class to be different, for it to be interesting and fun, but I need all of you to understand that I'm not going to accept half hearted attempts at bullshit done the day before because you don't feel like this class is worth your time. That's disrespectful and I'm not going to tolerate that, understood?"

The students quickly nodded.

He smiled. "Good, now I talked about a project before that is going to be worth a major part of your grade, I know I'm talking about it now, even though it's due towards the end of the semester, and all of you are going to wait till the end to start, because–" he leaned forward and looked around whispering, "I'm guilty of that too. Honestly, teachers bullshit when they tell you they were on top of their work and they finished things weeks before they were due, that's a big fat lie. Trust me on that."

The students all cracked smiles and laughed.

"So yeah project, you can be in groups of let's say seven to eight people making around four to five large groups, I know lots of people but this way you'll have so many little brains, with different takes, different ideas and you'll be able to make a unique project. More fun. You can pick; gods, demons, angels, creatures, I don't care but what I don't want you to do is romanticize the idea, like they've been doing these days."

His nose scrunched in disgust. "Like with Twilight, Vampire Dairies, whatever other shit there is, I want you to go back to the time where these things, these creatures, scared you, were things of beauty, when they were outside of the human realm of understanding. I want you to go back decades, hundreds–even thousands of years–when these supernatural beings were feared yet respected. I want you to go back when you were afraid of the things under your bed. I want you to tell me why? Why were you so scared? I want you to go back when these beautiful, fearsome creatures weren't this idealized, romanticized thing where they have lost their value of that they were meant to be. Deterrents, morals, lessons, warnings, when they astounded you with their beauty, when their grotesque nature made you afraid of the dark, and kept you awake at night. Why do we feel so drawn to them? Why do they contain this aspect of humanity, where we can see ourselves in these creatures? I want you to take something from one region, one country, one continent and compare it to another. Tell me about their differences, the similarities, the emotions they invoke within you, whether it's love, fear, hate, repulsion, tell me why? Don't just give me baseless information, I want more than just facts." Stiles glanced around the room. "And I swear if I see Edward Cullen on any of the presentations, I will walk out and I will never return." He grinned. "Now go, get into groups, discuss, you don't have to plan anything, I want you guys to take in what I've said, just talk. Tomorrow we'll start learning things, today I just want you to think about what I've said, come up with vague ideas. Okay?"

The students all slowly blinked dazedly. their mouths hanging open slightly. Stiles glanced around and frowned. "Is something wrong?" They all shook their heads still stunned. He raised an eyebrow. "So move then." They all quickly got up, wandering around to form their groups.

Stiles leaned back into his chair and brought out his laptop, while overlooking the class. That was how the rest of the period was spent, the students discussing amongst themselves while he watched over them.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Stiles glanced up from his laptop as the bell signalled the end of day. He smiled and waved his class out, returning his attention back to his screen, engrossed in the article he was reading. He looked up as footsteps came to a standstill in front of him, casting a shadow over his screen. He looked up and slowly blinked, frowning as he straightened up, his eyes darting from student to student. "Is something wrong?"

Isaac quickly shook his head. "No, it's just that what you told us today, the way you said it, it was–"

"Amazing!" Scott said as he bounced on his toes, his eyes wide and his smile warm and bright. Everyone nodded, even Jackson and he was that kid was never impressed or at least never vocalized it because you know he's a little shit.

The teacher smiled. "Thank you."

"I can't wait for tomorrow!" Scott said excitedly.

Stiles smiled. "I'm glad all of you are so invested even though we haven't touched on anything yet."

"It's different. You're different from the rest of the teachers here. It's the way you talk about this course, the amount of emotion you put in to it. Even though it's been only two days, we've felt it and that's what makes us so willing to learn." Boyd stated quietly.

Stiles gaped. "Wow, that's probably the most flattering thing anyone has ever said to me, and it came from a 16 year old boy, who is my student...wow people suck. Or maybe my life is just shitty."

Boyd offered him a tiny amused smile and nodded. "Goodbye Mr. Stilinski."

"Bye Boyd! Bye everyone!" He waved as everyone left the room. He smiled, happy and elated. He kicked up his feet and leaned back against his chair, cupping the back of his head, damn he was good.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Stiles quickly shoved his things into his bag. He couldn't believe he'd gotten so lost in his reading that he'd stayed hours after school. He glanced outside of the window and groaned. The sun was setting. He slung his bag over his shoulder and turned off the lights, hurrying to the entrance of the school. This was awesome. He was following every cliché in a horror movie, in a town where murder ran rampant like rats during the plague. Seriously, he was not about to become part of the weekly murder percentage rate in this shitty town. Not before he got some–wait did virgins die in horror movies? If not well then–Stiles paused. What was that? He strained his ears, there it was again. He closed his eyes and tilted his head, focusing on the sound. He quickly opened his eyes, his head jerked up.

Whimpering.

He could walk away, just go home and you know, not die. Stiles nodded. That was an awesome plan, probably the one that would save him–and he was walking towards the sound.

Great.

Damn his inability to leave shit alone! He knew it would come to bite him the ass, but in his defense, he'd never factored in that he would be in a town that actually was a horror movie though. Huh. Next time he would factor that in.

Stiles stopped and glanced down the creepy, dark, foreboding 'this is where I will die' hallway. He probably shouldn't walk down the hallway–and his feet were already moving.

Fuck.

He glanced around looking for the source of the cries, his eyes wandering aimlessly, until they settled on a stack of curly blond hair. Wedged between the tiny space that separated two rows of lockers, Isaac sat, huddled down into himself, his head buried into his knees. Stiles quickly ran towards him, dropping down to the floor as he reached out and gently cupped the teen's shoulder. "Isaac?" Stiles carefully eased his head out his knees and his stomach plummeted. The teen's eyes wide and fearful darted around frantically, his body convulsing with shudders.

"Sorry, sorry I'm sorry Dad d-don't put me in there. I'll be good, I promise. Don't put me in there. It's dark and small and I can't breathe. Don't put me in there."

Stiles swallowed down the nausea swimming in his stomach and tenderly cradled his face between his hands. He forced Isaac's gaze onto him and spoke softly, his tone placid and soothing. "Isaac, whatever you're seeing isn't real. Okay? It's me, Mr. Stilinski. Keep your eyes on me and listen to me."

Isaac's gaze slowly focused on him but the shudders continued.

He licked his lips. "When I was little, I used to get panic attacks. I'd have trouble breathing and I couldn't control my body. My hands would shake and the world would slow down. This pressure would press against my chest stopping me from breathing, and I knew it wasn't real but it wouldn't help. Sometimes it would get so bad that I'd black out, because my body couldn't get enough air and it would shut down. So I understand how afraid you are but it's not real. Whatever you're seeing isn't real. We're at the school, past normally healthy hours, seriously though way past normal hours considered to be healthy to the psyche."

"M-Mr. Stilinski?" Isaac's voice was nothing but a whisper, small and barely audible.

Stiles smiled. "Hey buddy."

Isaac quickly launched himself into Stiles' chest. Stiles blinked and brought his hands around him and rubbed Isaac's back. "It's okay, you're okay," Stiles muttered softly.

"Isaac!"

Stiles jerked his head towards the sound, his grip on Isaac tightening as feet stomped down the hallway. A few seconds later, Scott and the rest of his friends appeared.

Scott's eyes widened. "Mr. Stilinski?! Don't touch him! It's dangerous!" He quickly ran towards–

"Stop." Scott froze, Stiles narrowed his eyes and returned his focus back to the teen in his arms. "Isaac, are you okay now?" The head nestled in his chest nodded and slowly he removed himself from Stiles. The older man got up and brought Isaac up with him.

Isaac offered him a small smile. "Thank you."

Stiles nodded. "Do you need to go to a hospital?"

Isaac shook his head. "No."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

Stiles nodded and turned to look at the others. "Okay, now that I've done my concerned adult duty, what the hell are any of you doing here? There is no way that you could have known Isaac was here, he was in no condition to call for any of you. So explain to me; how Isaac ended up here and how you knew he was here?" Stiles crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm waiting."

All of them stiffened, Lydia smiled sharply. "We checked everywhere for him and we got lucky."

Stiles' eyebrow rose. "How long has he been missing for?"

"An hour!" Scott quickly butted in. Jackson face palmed and everyone groaned.

"So I'm supposed to believe that in one hour you checked everywhere? And so how was the school a plausible location at all? I may have given you the benefit of the doubt, but this town isn't so small that you'd be able to scour it within an hour." Stiles stared at the teens impassively, he smiled. "So you want to either, try a believable lie or the truth? But in my honest opinion, I think you should go for the truth, because none of you can lie very well."

The teens silently stared at him. "You know what? I think I do need to go to the hospital!" Isaac quickly said.

Scott jumped. "I'll drive!"

"All of us will go!" Danny said and smiled.

Stiles spluttered. "Wait! You–" He watched as all of the teens bolted down the hallway, damn it! He grumbled to himself, and whirled around to pick up his bag, the one he'd dropped as soon as he'd seen Isaac. He reached for his bag. He'd figure this out. He stopped as he noticed something from the corner of his eye, wait what was that? He shoved his bag out of the way and trailed his fingers over the grooves in the floor. Claw marks? He looked up and found more on the edges of the lockers where Isaac was wedged. He let his fingers lightly run over the marks frowning. Stiles leaned back and ran his fingers through his hair.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Stiles' fingers trailed over the black leather tome, his hands lightly brushing against the carvings. Archaic Latin, The Book of Creatures. Inside, the pages would be yellowed with age, pictures of grotesque and beautiful creatures were housed, the colors vibrant in some, others dark.

Thoughts circled in his head as he thumbed the book open, his eyes moving over the pages he flipped. Glowing eyes. Howls. Claw marks. Sightings of a black monstrous creature that resembled a wolf but couldn't be because wolves couldn't be so big.

He stopped as reached the particular page.

Lycanthrope.