The boy turned out to be farther than I thought he would have been able to get, but still not as far as he probably should have been before he started calling out for help. I can understand why he would think it was safe though. He had gotten about half a mile between us. Unfortunately…or fortunately, haven't decided yet….I was able to jog it in no time at all.

Coming up behind the boy as he slumps against a tree, holding his leg, I can see a look of pain etched on his face. The adrenaline must of worn off so that he can feel his gashes now. Reluctantly, I look down at the torn up flesh and almost gag from the sight. He whimpers, trying to put weight on it, but it protests with every attempt.

He's at a standstill, unable to move any further. I'm somewhat glad that I came back to help him now. Otherwise, he would have surely died from blood loss out here.

Getting closer to him, I make an effort to create a little noise in my movements so that I don't surprise him in my approach.

That doesn't work.

The boy nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears someone behind him, and then about has a mental breakdown when he sees that it's me. He falls backwards, unable to keep his balance with his hurt leg.

"No, please!" He begs, holding up a shaky hand as if it would stop me if I still had the intentions of killing him. He begins to cry, "Please don't! I just want to go home. Please, just let me go home. Please!"

My heart completely shatters. Completely. There are no pieces left that I would consider to be whole.

He's defeated. He's truly broken down and knows that there's no way of him saving himself if I decided to finish him off. Of course, he doesn't know that it's me which is favorable for the both of us.

Holding up my hands to show him that I mean no harm, I stay where I am so that I don't scare him more. "I'm sorry," is all I'm able to mumble out as the boy's reaction towards me seizes my heart.

The boy looks confused and upset as he continues to keep his guard up. He slowly scoots himself further away from me, frightened of our close proximity even though I'm at least 20 feet away from him.

"Please don't run again," I plead. Hopefully my expression is giving off some form of sincerity, because I need him to believe me when I tell him, "I want to help you get home."

So many looks cross his face in such a short amount of time. Stunned, surprise, puzzlement, wonder, caution, eagerness, hope, uncertainty, shame, helplessness, distrust, and then finally anger.

"Why are you doing this?" He spat, hatefully.

I stayed silent, unsure of how to answer him in a way that might convince him that I really do mean well.

Shaking his head with exhaustion, he continues. "Look, man. I just want to go home, ok? I'm done playing your 'games.' I'm going to go home." Saying the last bit with more certainty as if it was going to go exactly the way he said it, he rambled on. "I'm going to leave, go home, have a cold bath, make some hot cocoa, take a sip of it, throw it out because I don't know how to make hot cocoa, play a game online, knock out around 6:30 in the morning, wake up at 7 to go to school because I forgot that tonight is Sunday night and tomorrow morning will be Monday morning, then end up passing out in my classes later and receive a detention for it sometime later in the day. Probably in Chemistry…Yea, probably then…A-a-and I'm going to continue on with my life as if none of this ever happened. I'm going to forget you exist. I'm going to forget that any of this happened. And I'm going to make a mental clip note to never come out into the woods ever again. But since I'm going to forget that this all ever happened, I'm just going to have to give myself the reasoning that someone as skinny and fragile and pale as me is far better suited to staying inside and being a nerd on my computer where it is safe and there aren't monsters and…and….and….well, I don't know what else, but I know there is plenty more to add on to that."

He was heaving now. I think that's why he stopped talking. Red faced and out of breath, we both remained quiet for a few moments before I broke it and told him, "I just want to help you get back so that can all actually happen."

I am a wounded dog. That's how I feel right now. I don't even care that I used a dog reference, because that is what I am. His words hurt me. His reactions hurt me. His pain still hurts me. And I'm not even allowed to feel bad about it, because it's all my fault.

"Why should I trust you?" He asks, harshly.

"You shouldn't." I admit. It's true. Why deny him the truth? "But right now, I'm the only one who knows where we are and can get you out of here."

He scoffs, but doesn't say anything. I don't think either of us really know what else to say. And I'm not good with my people skills so I have no clue what I'm supposed to do now. Was his lack of answer him warming up to the idea of accepting my offer? Was it a sign that he's finished hearing what I have to say and wants me to disappear from this moment so that he can go back to hobbling away? Do I ask if I can help him again? Or do I give him a chance to make the first move and wait for his reply whether it be yes or no?

How is anyone supposed to know what to do?

I pause a moment, wondering to myself. Maybe I'll just be honest with him. I'll tell him everything and see how he takes it. You know, because everything gets better with over talking. Plus, it's not like anyone's going to believe him if he repeats what I say.

"My name is Derek by the way," I begin. He glares at me. "And I'm truly sorry for what happened back there."

More glaring.

"Ok…so, I guess I should explain. I'm a werewolf. Yes, they're real. And tonight was the full moon. I couldn't control my wolf when he smelled you running by. He took over and that's who you met back there. Not me. You kicking him in the face helped me regain control over myself."

Kind of blunt; however, it's short, sweet and fairly understandable.

He looks at me like I'm crazy, but I let my words process for a moment so he can fully take it in. His reaction somewhat surprises me too. He seems to believe everything I tell him. That could possibly be because there is nothing else to explain a half wolf man attacking you on the night of the full moon in the middle of the woods. My story adds up.

"A werewolf?" He asks in a way someone would verify information to make sure they remembered it for a test.

I nod my head. He's taking it better than I thought he would have. "Is it ok if I help you get out of here?" I ask, wanting to get a move on before his condition worsens. He appears very sickly and it's only a matter of time before he faints from being too weak.

"How do I know that it won't take control over you again? Or if you are really him just acting like you so that you can trick me into thinking you're really you when you're actually him?" He interrogates me, uncertainly.

Both very good questions…I think…I don't know. The second question kind of confuses me, but I know he wants a quick response so I won't leave him waiting for one. "You won't be able to know if he will take control again. But I promise, I'll do my best to keep him back. If I sense him at all, I'll tell you to run. And you know I'm me, because I don't have fangs or claws or red eyes."

He shudders when I mention my wolf's eyes, but considers my answer. "I'm Stiles," he finally says and I accept that as my permission to have some of his trust. For now. I know it's only for these next few hours or however long our journey to civilization will be, but I'll take what I can get.

Slowly walking forward to make sure it's ok, Stiles tenses but still allows me to approach and aid him in standing up again. "You know, this would be a lot easier if I just carried you," I point out.

"Hey now, I'm not your damsel in distress. I can walk on my own if I have to. I'm not completely useless." He grumbles, still uneasy about this whole situation. I'm taken aback a little, but I get it.

I nod, hanging his arm over my shoulder and grabbing ahold of his side that way he can lean the majority of his weight on me. His breath hitches in his throat as his heart hammers against his chest from our close proximity, but he doesn't object.

He nods, letting me know he's ready and we commence our trek to getting him the hell out of here.

Our walk is uncomfortably slow, having it take nearly half an hour to reach only one mile away. We still have about 10 miles to go until we get to a main road, and then there's either signaling someone down or getting to the nearest town which is 20 miles away after that. He had to have driven out here.

"Where did you park your car?" I ask him, debating on whether I should drive him to the hospital or take him to the road so someone can pull aside and pick him up.

"On the hideaway road on Madison Street. It's right off the 55. You take the right on Madison and the hideaway road is about a few miles up the road to the left." He explains, sounding out of breath from all this extra exertion. Though, no matter how tired he seems to be, he never once relaxes next to me. He's always on edge and shaky with me by his side, prepared for me to be lying and wolf out on him randomly. I don't blame him. My wolf scares me too.

"Do you live near there or do you just know random hideaway roads?" I know the side road he's talking about. It's about four miles away. This makes things easier. Well, easier than it would have been.

"Just know." He heaves, speaking only as much as he has to so he doesn't waste his energy. I leave him to concentrate on remaining upright after that. I need to focus on staying calm and collected anyway. It seems we both have our own issues to deal with at the moment.

As we go along, I notice how strong the smell of his blood is getting. It's making me sick. A thought of eating him flashes across my mind. I look down at the adolescent kid clinging to my side for support, tears still streaming down his face from the pain he's in. The pain that I inflicted on him. Disgust washes over me. I'm truly ashamed of myself for not being strong enough. How could I let this happen again?

Well at least this time I didn't let my wolf finish the job. And this time, it's not a little girl playing by the water who got lost from her family's camping trip. My wolf made a fast meal out of her. He didn't tease her as much as he did with Stiles. It was probably because he knew he had more time with him.

"How far is it from here?" Stiles asks hesitantly, pulling me out of my reverie.

I can feel my wolf hum in his cage as he hears the fear in Stiles' voice. I ignore it, pushing him away. "Just a few more miles up. Are you sure you don't want me to just carry you? It would make it faster." I try to persuade him. I would rather get him there and have this all over and done with.

Stiles glowers at me, "I'm positive. Just get me to grandma's house. Ok?"

I suppress a smirk at his response, because I know he's not in a mood to laugh, but how can he still make jokes at a time like this? He's traumatized but still holds his composure. That's pretty admirable, one might say. Not many people can do that.

I notice his face getting paler. He's bleeding a lot.

And then it hits me again. Another wave of the scent of his blood. My wolf moans longingly.

No. You aren't getting out again. Not for a long time until I feel like I can trust you to behave yourself. And then, I still won't let you out. I'm standing my ground with this and I mean it when I say You. Are. Done.

My wolf responds by chuckling at me even though I believe I'm the most serious about this than I've ever been before. Watch Me, he growls.

And just like that, it's as if a bomb explodes within my head, sending Stiles and myself crashing to the ground. I clutch my head, gritting my teeth at the sharp pain. My skull is on fire.

"What the hell, man?" Stiles exclaims, angrily in my direction.

I groan in agony as my wolf tears at my insides, determined to break free.

Detecting that something is wrong, Stiles scoots back, his nerves going haywire. "Are you ok? Is it coming back?" I'm not the only one who can hear the fear in his voice.

I cry out from the torment my wolf assaults me with, barely able to snarl, "Run!" to Stiles before my walls come tumbling down and my vision is clouded by a deep, scarlet red.

—

The boy gets up, racing away from me as fast as he can without looking back. Well, more like hurriedly limping. The adrenaline that's kicked back into him is probably the only thing keeping him up.

Not wasting time, I bound after him, catching up in seconds. No desire to play with my food any longer, I tackle him to the ground with a fierce growl bursting out of my mouth from all of the excitement. He screams as we tumble, landing with an 'oof' before he struggles to scurry away.

"Derek! Please don't do this!" He begs me. I'm on top of him, immediately, pinning him down. He covers himself, weeping as he does so. He's a blubbering mess, the terror practically throws itself at me, eager for me to consume it. His screams fill the night as I slash at his body, tearing through him. His back, arms, neck, sides. Everything I can reach in front of me until he finally lays still and quiet.

Satisfaction comes over me as my little rabbit's blood drenches my face. I can't help but lick it off my lips and hands as I enjoy myself. Nibbling here, biting there. I take my time until I'm content with my kill.

Humming with pleasure, I let out an exhausted breath. It's been a long night and this was just the release I needed.

The orders of my human amuse me as he demands that I 'let him out.' I laugh, more to myself. He doesn't know how to let loose and have a little fun every now and then. I grin, picking up the boy's limp arm to let it fall to the ground again. This was most definitely what I like to call fun.

A thought crosses my mind, making me shiver, delightedly. I know just what else might make it even more fun.

The human wants to come out? Well, let's not refuse him. He can come out and deal with this mess and see what he's done to this 'poor little boy.'

Snickering, I pull myself back inside. I lay down in my cage, allowing my human to take over as I drift off to sleep.

—

I look down at the blood on my hands. I'm in a sort of haze as I rub the thick, red liquid between my fingers, lazily. It's such a full color. And shiny. It's so mesmerizing that I almost don't notice the still boy beneath me until I shake myself out of my stupor.

"No," I breath out. "No, no, no."

I fall off of him, examining the work that my wolf has done. "No, no, no." I repeat over and over. My hands are trembling with fear as they hover over his wounds, too afraid to touch him. "No, no, no." I whimper.

He can't be dead. He isn't dead. It's not real. This isn't real. I didn't do this again.

"No," I have to help him. I have to wake him up. I haul the kid into my arms, shaking him a bit. His head hangs to the side at an awkward angle that makes my neck hurt. "No, come on!" I cry out, grabbing his face. "Look at me. Hang in there. Just hang in there. I'm going to get you help. You're going to be fine."

But his eyes don't open. He shows no acknowledgment of my words.

"NO!" I shout angrily. "LOOK AT ME! OPEN YOUR EYES! PLEASE!" I beg him. I can't deal with this. I can't deal with my wolf any longer. I don't know what to do. All I want is for this boy to open his eyes.

"Stiles!" I croak his name as I begin to weep into his shoulder. "Please wake up!"

I take heavy breaths as I hold him as tight as I can. I don't know him, but it doesn't matter. What matters is that others did know him and I took him away from them. They didn't get to say good bye. They won't get to see his smile or hear his laughs anymore. He won't grow up to meet a girl that he will fall in love with and want to marry one day and start a family together. Hell, maybe he's already found that girl and I've taken him from her too.

So many lives are going to be effected from taking this one. Those lives are going to be put through grief and suffering just like that little girl's family were put through. Except this kid is older and he's probably touched even more people's hearts.

I don't know what to do. I want to stop this from ever happening again, but I don't know how. I try so hard to resist my wolf, but he'll always be stronger than me and I know it. I have to kill him, but the only way of doing that is by killing myself and I don't want to die. Granted, I don't have much of a life to live for anyway. That doesn't stop me from being scared of death.

Looking down at Stiles' blank expression, shame burns inside of me. I'm so selfish. Thinking about being afraid of death when this kid had no choice in the matter. How many bodies are going to be stacked up, because I can't control my wolf and I'm too scared to do what needs to be done.

My tears blur my vision and I have to blink furiously to see the boy's face at all.

"I'm sorry." I whisper, grief taking away the volume in my voice. "I couldn't save you. I tried, but I couldn't do it. I should have left you to find your way. I should have gone home. At least then, you would have had a fighting chance. I'm so sorry."

I bring him back into my embrace, holding him, firmly. Ignoring my cheek as it begins to sting when I rest it against his head, I close my eyes and listen to the crickets chirping in the darkness around me in an attempt to calm myself down.

I have to figure out what to do next? If I should leave him here and let him become one of the many unsolved cases of Beacon Hills? Do I take him to his car and leave him there to let someone find his body and diagnose it as an animal attack? I can't take him to the hospital and tell them that I did it.

The stinging in the side of my face surprises me out of my thoughts as it turns into a harsh burning sensation. "Ow!" I exclaim as I jerk my head away from the boy, startled by the sudden spark of pain.

What the…?

I'm amazed even more when I stare at the boy's face and I notice something impossible happen. Something that I might not have seen if I didn't have a wolf's keen eyesight that can see fairly well at night in all this darkness. I have to second guess myself when it happens, but there is no denying that,indeed, what I just saw actually happened.

And now it's happening again.

The boy's lips are quivering. They're quivering, because his body is trying to breath.

They wouldn't be able to do that if he was dead!

But they are doing that which must mean that he is the exact opposite of dead. He is alive!

I can hear a faint thump thump when I try to listen which makes me even more ecstatic! He's not dead! I didn't kill him! In fact, I think without even realizing it, I was taking away his pain which relieved his heart so that it can pump harder.

"Oh my God! Stiles! Stiles!" I call out to the boy, shaking him, frantically, trying to get him to wake up a little. "Come on! Stay in there! I need you to wake up a little for me. You need to fight it. Come on, Stiles!"

Without another thought, I jump up with the boy in my arms and run to where I remember him telling me his car is, the whole way ordering him to stay awake and to keep fighting.

A/N: Hi everyone! Thanks so much for reading my short story! The video link below is called I Know I'm A Wolf by The Young Heretics. I really liked the song/video when I first saw it and came up with this story as a result. I hope you enjoyed it and if you didn't watch the video, please do! I'm not sure if there will be a part 2 as of now. I suppose it depends on the feedback I get. Either way, I hope you liked it and thank you again for reading!

watch?v=8kTMB2UqQs4