**Season 3 spoilers ahead**

Stiles yawned and stretched his arms, trying to get away from the mass at his side that was radiating heat. He was cramped and uncomfortable but far too tired to give it much thought. No, tired wasn't the word for it. He was far too well rested, his head was groggy and body heavy. He didn't want to open his eyes, but he was starting to sweat and his leg muscles starting to knot. He slowly opened his eyes, blinking rapidly against the blinding morning sun. He was in the back of his Jeep, curled around a backpack.

He rolled to his back, half laying on Scott who was sound asleep next to him, mouth slightly ajar. Stiles propped himself up using his left arm, feeling a slight twinge of pain in his hand. He looked down to see four band-aids laying parallel to each other on the back of his palm. Each soaked through with now dried blood, barely sticking to his skin. Slightly confused, he concentrated on what he remembered happening last night.

Scott and Isaac showed up at his house. They left, drove for a stupid amount of time, then pulled into a rest stop. Isaac was asleep, Scott and Stiles went to get food. They came out, Scott got a phone call. Stiles went back to the Jeep and woke up Isaac. It came to his attention the last thing he remembered was touching Isaac, then pain. His uninjured hand shot up to the back of his neck where he remembered the sharp stab of pain being followed by spreading warmth. His fingers brushed over a large area covered by what felt like medical tape and gauze. He put slight pressure on the area, wincing when the tape pulled at his apparent wounds. Isaac had totally wolfed out on him. He was going to kill him.

He frantically began pulling at his clothes, looking for more injuries. When he was satisfied he wasn't torn to ribbons and being held together with tape, he relaxed. He looked into the front seat expecting to find a sleeping Isaac who wouldn't be sleeping much longer. Stiles was going to have a nice long talk with this damn wolf about his manners. When he found the seat empty, aside from crumbled McDonald's bags, he scowled and nudged Scott with his foot. He groaned and stirred before his breathing evened out and he was once again sleeping. Stiles sighed, annoyed with his friend's lack of concern. What if Isaac was trying to rip Stiles's throat out at this very moment? Admittedly he would more than likely be screeching like a little girl, but that wasn't the point.

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. He had no idea if this had any effect on werewolves, but he'd sure as hell try. He'd downloaded a dog whistle app a few weeks ago, planning on using it against Scott somehow. This was the perfect moment to try it out. He frowned down at his phone as the screen lit up, he had a missed call from his dad and only had 10% battery life left. Good thing he remembered his charger, his dad will lock him up in a cell if he didn't get back to him soon.

He started up the app and put his phone as close to Scott as he could get without waking him. He pressed the button and felt his phone vibrate, indicating the whistle was working although he could only hear an odd buzzing sound.

Scott flung his arm up straight into Stiles's forearm, causing his phone to fly out of his hand and crash into the roof, finally landing on the floor between them. Stiles backed up against the far side of his Jeep quickly, startled by Scott's reaction. His eyes were wide and flashed bright gold as he sat up scrambling to grab the phone and tear the battery out.

"What the hell Stiles?" Scott panted, his eyes their normal shade of brown. "I could have torn your fucking eyes out!"

Stiles swallowed and scooted back next to Scott before answering, "maybe if you would have woken up I wouldn't of had to take drastic measures. Plus I was curious, you know, just wanted to see if it worked."

Scott rolled his eyes, "stop trying stupid shit, you're going to get yourself killed. Haven't you had enough werewolf fun for a few months?" Scott nodded towards Stiles's hand, making a disgusted face at the dried blood. "You should probably change those, infections are nasty. You could probably lose your hand from a bad one."

Stiles's eyes widened as he glanced down at his hand. "Infection? Why would I get an infection. What type of infection? Why would I lose my hand? Oh god, I'm going to lose my hand aren't I? Why would you tell me something like that!" Stiles started fumbling through his bags, looking for the first-aid kit he brought. He couldn't be known as the one-handed man, Stump Stilinski or Hand Solo. He had to admit, being called Hand Solo wouldn't be too terrible.

Stiles looked up from his scavenger hunt to see a big, goofy grin plastered across Scott's face. He was probably laughing at the image of a one-handed Stiles trying to play lacrosse. His lacrosse career was now over, most certainly. It had just started, and it completely crumbled away just like that.

"Stiles you look like you're about to throw up, chill out. You're not going to lose your hand. I was joking."

"How do you know! Are you some sort of part time doctor? Infection Inspector?!"

"I do work at an animal clinic."

"DO I LOOK LIKE AN ANIMAL TO YOU SCOTT?"

"Do you want me to answer that truthfully?"

"Fuck you buddy. Fuck you and your stupid..." Stiles paused trying to think of something insulting to say to his friend but he was blinded by his anger. "Hair." Stiles spotted the first-aid kit next to Scott. He grabbed it and opened his trunk, jumping out onto a empty parking lot. Dust billowed up around his shoes as he turned in a circle, taking in his surroundings.

They were parked in a small clearing in the middle of a forest. Trees of varying thicknesses loomed into the cloudless sky. He could see a dirt road which was overgrown with plants, indicating they were the only ones to come out here for awhile.

That's understandable with all that has been going on. If he were your average everyday person, he would stray away from forests when there were reports of animal attacks and missing persons. He, of course, was not your everyday person. He was Stiles Stilinski, best friend to a werewolf, classmate of a former giant homicidal lizard, investigator and sarcasm extraordinaire.

He could hear Scott still laughing at his outburst as he sat back down on his Jeep. He squinted against the sun and looked out into the trees. He thought he could see something shimmering in the distance, but he wasn't sure. He opened the first-aid kit on his lap, taking out more gauze and medical tape. A book of matches fell out onto the ground. He picked them up and shoved them in his back pocket.

"Hand me a water bottle?" Stiles slowly peeled the band-aids off the back of his hand, expecting the worst. Scott sat beside him and placed a water bottle between them. "Where's Isaac?"

"I think he went home, he was pretty upset and didn't want to cause anymore problems," Scott answered.

"Good, what the hell is his problem? Does he not know how to control himself? I thought Derek had trained his damn betas. I'm going to have to have a word with him."

Scott stared at Stiles with a look of disbelief. He didn't like that look, that look meant he said something wrong. He didn't know what he could have possibly said wrong, other than talking to Derek. How was talking to Derek wrong?

"Wait, he went home? How did he get home? Was Derek here?"

"No, Derek wasn't here."

"Then what? Did he run barefoot through the forest, wind whipping through his hair like the flower child he is?"

"I don't think he was barefoot, Stiles. What the hell is a flower child?"

Stiles threw his blood crusted band-aid's in a stray bag he found in his trunk. He opened the water bottle and dumped it over his hand, unsuccessfully trying to wash away the dried blood.

"A hippie, obviously. Do you live under a damn rock?"

He took some gauze and wet it, gingerly wiping at his wounds. There were four long scratch marks along the back of his hand, crossing the tendons diagonally. They were deepest by his thumb and forefinger trailing off and getting shallower towards his wrist.

Scott grimaced at Stiles's hand. "Do you remember anything?"

Stiles wrapped his hand in gauze, securing it in place with tape. He concentrated on remembering what happened again, starting from when he woke Isaac up. "I remember you getting a call and giving me the drink tray. I went to the Jeep and kicked my door until Isaac woke up..." His eyes followed a squirrel scurrying up a tree and leaping across branches.

"And?"

"I don't know, something was off with him so I put the stuff on my hood. Then I opened the door myself and climbed in. He was..." Stiles paused and looked up at Scott. "Oh my god, how could I forget! He was whispering something to himself, 'no' or 'stop' I don't remember exactly. He was sleeping, I startled him and he must have thought someone was going to hurt him. He looked so scared. That caused him to shift, didn't it? I don't remember much after that, only a sharp pain on the back of my neck then darkness."

"That's all you remember? Darkness?"

"Yes, Scott, darkness."

xxx

When it came time to eat lunch, they didn't have many choices. They could simply eat what Stiles had bought specifically for this trip, junk food, or they could hit the local diner. They chose the latter, taking the overgrown path through the forest a few miles back to paved roads.

On their way through the tiny town, they only spotted one traffic light. The roads were mostly clear, along with the sidewalks. Most of the houses they passed had overgrown lawns with crooked fences, shutters drawn shut against the windows. It reminded Stiles of a creepy ghost town, he'd imagine driving through Silent Hill would feel something like this. With more ash, fog and horrible creatures, of course.

He used to love scary movies until his life became one. He was scared- petrified even- of the fictitious creatures he had once adored on film. He feared they would somehow become his reality. No longer the conjuration of his mind, his very own demons rising to the surface to drag him under.

The Jeep pulled to a stop outside an old, squat building with an open sign hanging in the door. Red bricks were peeking through chipping, yellowing white paint. Fastened to the wall below a row of windows was a faded sign that read '98 Diner'.

A bell welcomed them as they entered, the smell of mouth watering, greasy food and coffee swirling around. Stiles immediately headed for a booth near a window, Scott following his lead.

A tall brunette waitress met them at their booth, laying menus in front of them. She was young, probably in her late 20's. She was wearing a short yellow dress with a white apron. Stiles thought she was pretty, but too old and not really his type. His type was about 5'3", strawberry blonde, in love with a lizard turned werewolf and way too far out of his league.

"My name's Kali, I'll be serving you today. Can I get you two anything to drink?" She asked, taking a small notepad and pen from her apron pocket.

"I'll take Pepsi, thanks," Scott replied, flipping through the menu.

Stiles made a disgusted face in Scott's direction and turned to the waitress. "Do you perchance sell ice cream sodas here?"

"Of course we do, what kind would you like sweetie?"

Stiles couldn't help but smile, "Root beer with vanilla, two scoops."

"Alright, do you know what you want to order or would you like some time?"

Stiles flipped through the menu searching for the burger section. He quickly scanned it and looked up at the waitress confused. "Pizza burger? I don't know what it is, but I want it. Pizza burger with a side of curly fries, please."

"Same for me," Scott said, tossing his menu on the table.

xxx

Stiles had to get away from Scott. He needed to investigate what was happening around here, and his friend most definitely wouldn't approve. Even if he would approve, Stiles wanted to do this on his own.

"How long are we staying out here?" Scott asked, throwing pebbles into the lake they were sitting by.

"I didn't ask you to come, Scott. You can leave whenever." Stiles was sitting on a nearby boulder, watching the ripples radiate the spots where Scott's pebbles landed in the water.

Scott looked back at Stiles, "dude, what's you problem? I just wanted to go camping with my friend. We never do anything together anymore."

"I just wanted some time alone. I needed to get away after everything, can't you understand that?"

"You don't want to talk about it?"

"How long have we been friends? I'm not the type to talk about feelings."

Scott dropped the rest of the pebbles he held and stood in front of Stiles. "Alright, I get it. Just be careful out here." He started off back into the dense trees, heading towards the Jeep.

Stiles dropped his gaze to the ground. "Where are you going?"

"Home," Scott called behind him.

Stiles got to his feet, sneakers skidding slightly on the loose gravel, and followed Scott. "How?" He questioned, picking his way over protruding tree roots and fallen branches. It was times like there he wished he had werewolf powers the most. He was exceptionally clumsy and could use the help with balance.

"I'll get a ride, don't worry about it," Scott said, now perched on the hood of the Jeep with his cellphone out.

Stiles came clambering out of the trees, nearly falling face first as his shoe caught a stray vine. He steadied himself and glared up at Scott. "Dude you're going to dent it! And who do you expect to come get you this far out?"

Scott looked up at Stiles with a slight smile. "Seriously Stiles, don't worry about it."

xxx

There were papers and photos covering the ground, stones holding them in place. Stiles was leaning over them on his knees, a notebook and pen in hand. He was struggling to find a pattern. There were two disappearances and an attack.

He picked up the attack report files, scanning over sections he had previously highlighted.

Victim was attacked while walking an unmarked trail in Potsdam Reserve at 22:00 on the 15th of June. Victim has limited recollection of what attacked them... growling and howling... Wounds are consistent with large wild animal... five long gashes to left thigh... five puncture wounds to right shoulder... Victim has since recovered from their injuries.

He scribbled down everything he thought was important or relevant then moved on to the disappearance reports. He looked down at the photos paper clipped to the files. Two young females smiled up at him, one brunette and one with red hair. They looked as if they were the same age as him. They looked so happy in the photos, their fate unbeknownst to them. If Stiles had to guess, he would say they're likely dead. He didn't want to believe it so he pushed the thought away, filing it in the darkest crevices in his mind along with his personal demons.

Stiles's head snapped up towards the sound of shoes scuffing in gravel, distant voices traveling on the wind. He could see two figures emerging from the overgrown trail that leads back to town. He didn't know who in their right mind- obviously not him- would be traveling into the forest with the sun fading, only an hour or so from dipping below the horizon.

He quickly gathered all the files and photos together, shoving them back into the folder. He rose to his feet, shuffling towards the Jeep with his eyes still on the silhouettes. They were masculine figures, strikingly similar. He shoved the folder under a few bags and closed the Jeep's hatch. He casually leaned against his vehicle, trying not to look too distressingly obvious.

As the distance between them closed, Stiles glanced back up at them. They both carried fishing rods leaning against their shoulders, one of them with a tackle box in hand. Stiles was relieved they were here just to simply fish, not to tear his throat out or something equally as terrible.

"Hey!" The one without the tackle box called, waving a hand at Stiles. "You from around here?"

Stiles looked from one to the other. They were brothers, twins. Not those half baked wannabe twins either. They were honest-to-god how-the-hell-can-people-tell-you-apart twins. Stiles opened his mouth to talk, just to snap it shut again as he seemingly forgot every word in the English language.

"Guess not, name's Ethan." The slightly shorter one said. He pointed a finger towards his brother, "This is Aiden."

"Stiles," he replied pointing at himself, still recovering from his brain malfunction. Stiles noted that Ethan was wearing a navy blue striped shirt while Aiden was wearing a burgundy v-neck.

"Well we're just heading down to the lake for some fishing, you can tag along if you'd like," Ethan suggested. Aiden was grumpily looking towards the lake. Stiles wondered if he spoke, he was being awfully quiet. Too quiet almost, like the sketchy kind of quiet.

"Uh- yeah, sure. Why not?" Stiles was out here to investigate. He could get friendly with these boys, at least with Ethan, and see if they had any information. Also he wouldn't mind just sitting around by the lake until sunset. It's not like he had any other plans.

xxx

"I've heard you've had some strange attacks and disappearances around here?" Stiles asked casually, laying on the ground, hands folded behind his head.

Ethan and Aiden were both perched on a boulder, cast fishing poles in hand. "If you're staying out here alone, you'll be next," Aiden deadpanned, staring out at his fishing float bobbing in the still lake.

"I'll be next?" Stiles laughed nervously, pushing himself into a sitting position. "W-what do you mean?" This is the first time Aiden has spoken and Stiles wasn't exactly sure how to take it. The kid gave him weird vibes and he remained completely silent, until given the opportunity to indirectly threaten him.

"What he means is, if you're staying out here alone, you shouldn't. In fact, we're having a party tonight in our parents cabin a few miles out. You should come, you can stay there. It's safer than being out here in that shitty Jeep." Ethan reeled in his fishing line, pulling off the bait and securing the hook to the pole. "We've actually got to get going, need to prepare some things. Do you have something I can write directions on?"

Stiles got to his feet and nodded, heading off towards his Jeep. He wasn't sure if he should trust these two, but he also didn't know if he should trust these woods. He figured getting the directions was not a RSVP and he could skip out if he decided against going.

He pulled a piece of paper from his notebook and handed it to Ethan along with a pen. Ethan leaned on the hood of the Jeep and drew a crude map to his parent's cabin, complete with a compass and X marking the destination. Stiles folded the paper and put it in his pocket, waving at Ethan and Aiden as they disappeared into the sinking sun.

Stiles slid into the front seat of the Jeep, pulling out his cellphone. The screen indicated he had 5% battery left and should charge his phone. He grabbed his duffel bag and unzipped it, pulling out his charger. It then dawned on him that he had brought a wall charger, not his car charger. He groaned and shoved the wire back into the bag, zipping it up. He needed to call his dad to check in, so this had to be quick.

He dialed his dad's number and held the receiver up to his ear. After two rings he answered, "Sheriff Stilinski."

"Hey dad I just wanted to tell you that I'm fine and I brought my charger but it's a wall charger not a car charger and I need to talk really fast because my battery is going to die and I'm going to be home in a day or two don't worry about me I'll call when I can figure out how to harness photosynthetic energy from a tree or maybe I can make a solar panel out of scraps have a nice day lo-" The phone went dead. At least he had checked in a assured his father he was fine. That should keep him quiet for a bit.

Stiles drummed his fingers on his steering wheel trying to break the silence around him. He scanned his Jeep, looking for something to do. He had been sitting here for only five minutes before he starting getting antsy and bored. Truth was he had nothing to do and he didn't feel safe here. He probably wouldn't get any sleep, he'd just stare into the trees as the darkness transformed and morphed into images from his nightmares.

He decided he was going to that party tonight. He needed to be more social and do more things. What better way to be social than with complete strangers? They didn't know his story, his past, how many friends he didn't have or what freakish adventures he'd been pulled through this past year. He could be a new person, someone people liked and held with a higher regard than Stiles Stilinski of Beacon Hills. He didn't need to be the kid who lost his mom or the ridiculous one who nobody could take seriously.

He started up his Jeep, just to find out that it was only 8:30PM, two hours before said party began. Ethan had said it would take him about 45 minutes to get there. That would still make him over an hour early if he left now.

Stiles turned off his Jeep and lightly hit his head against the steering wheel. He sat up straight and stretched his arms over his head, hands instinctively resting on the back of his neck. He felt the rough surface of medical tape and remembered his injury. He felt around for the edge of the tape and slowly began to remove it, wincing as it pulled at fine hairs. He finally got it off and looked down at the bandage, there wasn't much blood. Only four dried blood spots, barely the size of a dime. He discarded the bandage and tentatively ran his fingers over his wounds. He dropped his hand and sighed, turning his Jeep back on. He could always drive around for a little while and showing up early wouldn't kill him.

xxx

This cabin was literally in the middle of no where. He'd drove down twists and turns of unmarked roads, following Ethan's map to the best of his abilities. Not only was it in the middle of no where, it was also pitch black. It felt as if he was shroud in infinite seas of shadows, his headlights the only thing cutting though it's thickness.

He finally pulled onto a dirt road, his headlights illuminating a swaying sign with a strange symbol on it. It was a blackened triangle, turned on it's side so it pointed to the right. A thick line extended from each point, elongating each side of the triangle. The lines then bent clockwise at a 60 degree angle following one side of the triangle, each with a short tail bending back counterclockwise.

Stiles continued down the road until his headlights flooded a small clearing with a decent sized wood cabin sitting towards the back of it. There were no other cars around but there was a thin strip of dim light shining through the drawn curtains of a window.

The radio read 10:00PM, he was only a half hour early. He drove extra slow to make up for leaving too early, but it didn't seem to help much. Stiles grabbed his keys and leapt out of his Jeep, heading for the cabin.

He knocked on the door and waited for a reply. When no one came to the door he leaned an ear towards it, trying to hear if anyone was inside. Silence. Stiles wasn't one for breaking the law (that's a complete lie) but he decided to see if the door was unlocked.

With a twist of the doorknob, the door swung easily open. There was a single lamp on, sitting on an end table beside a couch. "Hello?" He called, stepping over the threshold and swinging the door shut behind him. There was no reply and he was starting to sweat nervously. There was no reason to be panicky, they were probably in another room or something.

Stiles stepped around the sagging couch, heading towards one of the other rooms in the cabin. The door was slightly ajar so he knocked it open with his foot and peeked around. "Hello?" Again, no answer. He didn't bother investigating the room further and headed towards the only room he hadn't checked. The door was already open and the light was off. He huffed and turned back towards the front door where a figure stood, features shadowed by the night.

Stiles let out a surprised gasp, "holy sh-" his hand flew up to cover his rapidly beating heart. He took a deep breath and backed away. "Are you trying to force me into cardiac arrest?"

The figure stepped into into the dim light, flashing red eyes and baring sharp, elongated canines. Stiles's mind immediately registered the alpha before him as Aiden. The twins were werewolves. Aiden was an alpha, so Ethan had to be a beta and part of his pack. He wasn't a happy or friendly alpha either, apparently.

Stiles took a step back and held a shaking hand out towards Aiden. "You're behind the attacks and disappearances, aren't you? At least one of your betas are. You lured me here, why?!"

Aiden laughed humorlessly. "Betas? You have no clue what you've stumbled into, do you? Well that's fine, you're just bait anyway." He jumped over the couch, landing a few feet away from Stiles.

"Bait? B-Bait for what?" Stiles stammered, backing up against a wall. He was trapped, nowhere to go but around the snarling beast in front of him, and that wasn't going to happen. "I'm not very good bait, I don't smell good. I don't have a lot of meat on me and you know, I'm just not good bait."

"You really are clueless, aren't you?" Aiden grabbed Stiles by his shirt collar, dragging him towards the room Stiles had previously looked in, but not entered. "We want your alpha."

"My alpha? I-I think you're mistaken. I'm 100% homo sapient 100% of the time."

Aiden smirked down at Stiles who was desperately trying to cower away from his grip. "You see this?" Aiden asked, pointing at a trap door in the floor which had a heavy looking chain attached to the handle. "This is where you're going to stay for a bit, getting acquainted with the dark while we wait for your alpha to show up and save your ass, if he cares." Aiden pulled on the chain, the trap door lifting with a groan. He pulled Stiles towards the dark opening.

"Wait!" Stiles cried, scrambling away from the edge. "Who is my alpha?"

"Derek, you fool."

Aiden shoved him down the steep staircase and slammed the door shut, blocking out all light. The sound of chains rattling and scraping against the door ceased, foot steps receding from above. Stiles sat up on the dusty floor, staring wide-eyed into the darkness. He was hoping his eyes would somehow adjust to the darkness, but they didn't. He felt his way back to the stairs and climbed halfway up, feeling above him for the door. He finally found it and pushed against it with all he had. It didn't budge. After a few more failed attempts he made his way back down the stairs to sit on the bottom step.

He was fucked, literally and very royally, fucked. No one knew where he was. Scott and Isaac had known where he was prior, hopefully after they realize something went wrong his scent will still be traceable. He didn't know if they could trace him this far or even trace his scent when he had traveled by car.

Stiles was starting to panic. He could feel the swell of uneasiness rise in his chest, tightening and causing his breath to come in quick, shallow gasps. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. He was safer in here than out in the woods, right? Probably not. Sweat beaded on his forehead and upper lip, he wiped his face on his shirt. He forced this thoughts elsewhere.

Stiles's mind traveled back to what Aiden had said. Derek was his alpha. How, by any means, was Derek Stiles's alpha? Yeah he'd try to help out the pack to the best of his abilities, but he was not part of it. He was the black sheep, the outcast among them. He was only useful for research and for getting information from the police, nothing more.

Stiles heard a low moan come from the other side of the darkened basement. At first he thought his mind was playing tricks on him, but then he heard a stuttered intake of breath.

"Hello?" He whispered, searching the space with blind eyes. He heard a faint clink of metal hitting metal.

Stiles clambered to his knees, crawling over to find the wall to his right. He let his fingers lightly glide over it's rough surface as he slowly got to his feet and made his way forward. He turned when he sensed another wall in front of him, his hand still guiding him. He was close to whoever- or whatever- was with him in the basement. He could sense them a few feet away and could hear their shallow, ragged breathing. That's when it hit him, a thick putrid scent tinged with a metallic overtone. He gagged and pulled his shirt up over his nose, trying to breath solely through his mouth. He didn't like the sight of blood but the smell was so much worse.

He got on his knees and cautiously searched the ground in front of him, silently praying he didn't touch anything wet or gooey. His fingers brushed something soft and he instinctively drew back. He put his hand back out and began patting his discovery with his fingertips. Hair, he was touching hair. The hair was short and curled slightly around his fingers.

He sat back on his heels not sure what to do when he felt something sharp jab his buttocks. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out small square package. He nearly cried out in relief when he remembered that it was a book of matches. He quickly ripped out a match and struck it on the rough strip of the package. The match flared up and cast a flickering orange glow where he sat.

He held the match out towards the crumpled figure before him. The person was curled up on their side. Their clothes were ripped and filthy, stained with dried blood. Manacles were around both of their wrists, connected by chain. A thick metal collar ringed their neck, a chain connected to it and leadto a hook on the wall. Stiles leaned in closer to get a better look at their wounds. Their stomach was in shreds, jagged pieces of flesh dangling from gashes encrusted with blood and dirt. Stiles cringed and backed up slightly as the match flickered out. He felt light headed and extremely nauseous. He took a few deep breaths and lit another match. He leaned back in and moved the persons head carefully so he could see their face.

Their face wasn't in much better of a state than their stomach. They had a blackened, swollen eye and a few scratches. The half of their face laying against the ground was caked in dried blood and dirt. Stiles lightly tilted their head farther up and held the match closer. He realized with a sudden rush of fresh nausea who it was

It was Isaac.

A/N: This took me awhile because I simply could have gone so many ways with this chapter. I also re-watched all of Teen Wolf in three days, so there's that. Sorry about the description of the symbol, I found it difficult to describe. It's just the alpha pack's symbol. Reviews would be lovely and fuel my fingers to type.