"Genim Stilinski, you have been Marked."

As he curled into the fetal position, a position of perseverance, he got a good look at his Mark: A black, full circle was tattooed onto his skin.

A full Moon.

Stiles woke up in a pool of sweat. His t-shirt was plastered to his skin. "Oh, man. Gross." The whole room smelled like sickness. It reminded Stiles of the old nursing home he used to volunteer at. The sun was filtered into the room; causing Stiles' eyes to feel like there were slowly being squeezed through a tube of toothpaste. "Kill me." Stiles begged to one in particular. He rolled over. What used to be Jackson Whittemore was now a lump of blankets and pillows.

His phone was flashing on his night stand. 15 missed calls. 9 text messages. Ugh. Delete. They were probably all from Scott. He did not need to hear about his best friend pining over some girl. What he did need however was a shower.

Blessed be the person that invented indoor plumbing, Stiles thought as the hot water poured over him. He felt like a new man. A clean, slightly pink, new man.

What day was it? Thursday. Thursdays meant 10 am English 202. Which sucked because the class was taught by this froggy looking professor that always had this weird smell-

His musings were interrupted by his phone blaring the Doctor Who theme song. The called id displayed a picture of his dad.

"Hello Father." Stiles sang into his cell. "It's only been three weeks. Missing me already?"

"Genim Nicholas Stilinski," Oh shit. "What the hell is your problem?"

"Whaa?" The only other time his dad had sounded this angry, Stiles had totaled the Jeep, which had cost his dad over $2000 in car repairs.

"I got you this phone so that you can be reached at any time. Not so you can forget it for two days."

"What are you talking about?"

"I've been trying to get a hold of you since Wednesday night, Stiles. Don't tell me you didn't get any of my calls or text."

"What do you mean by Wednesday night?"

"I talked to Melissa last night and apparently Scott has also been pulling a disappearing act for the past two days. What are you boys up to? Please tell me you're being responsible."

"Just wait a minute, dad." Stiles felt like his head was going to explode. He also suspected the lump in his throat might be his heart. "What are you talking about? It's only Thursday."

"Have you been taking drugs?"

"No, I haven't taking drugs. God, Dad." Stiles plopped on his bed. "The last thing I remember doing is going to bed."

"Yeah, well you've been sleeping for two days. It's Saturday." The sheriff informed his son.

"Holy shit." Stiles felt his heart plunge back into his chest. "Dad, I'm going to have to call you back."

What the ever loving fuck? How could he possibly sleep for two days without noticing?

Stiles glared at his sleeping roommate. Jackson Whittemore, the root of all evil. "Jackson!" He crossed the room and gave the other boy a rough shake. "Wake your ass up, dude."

The covers fell away to reveal Jackson looking worse for wear. His usually tan skin was ghostly pale and covered with sweat. His entire body was tangled painfully in his sheets. He also gave no acknowledgement that he'd heard Stiles. The guy looked pretty damn sick. Whatever kept Stiles asleep for two days seemed to be affecting his roommate too.

"Sonuvabitch."

Maybe, by some happy twist of fate, Scott wasn't also dead to the world. Maybe he'd gone to some frat party and eloped with a sorority girl.

"Hey, you've reached…Me. Uh, Scott McCall. So just do you r thing and I'll get back to you as soon as possible."

Oh, geez. Please don't be sick. "Hey, dude. Something weird is going on. I hoping it was that Thai food you bought a while ago. But chances are looking slim. Call me back as soon as you can."

He needed to get out of this room and find someone who knew what the hell was going on.

'if you can't find your way, just ask your R.A.'

It was 9 o'clock on a Saturday morning. The campus was practically deserted. The only people milling about at this hour had just been released from Discrete math class…And, of course, not-so-secret genius Lydia Martin was amongst them. Despite this fact, Stiles couldn't find the redheaded junior anywhere.

"Excuse me," Stiles called to the first student that looked the least like a brain eating zombie. "Hey, have you seen Lydia Martin?"

"Nah, man." The beanie cap should have been a dead giveaway that this guy was useless. "Princess has been out for the last few days."

Aw, shit.

The guy laughed at the look of sheer terror on Stiles' face. "It's not the end of the world, dude. She's probably out at the Hale house."

"And where is that?"

"In the middle of a forest."

The Hale house was a fortress protected and hidden by the surrounding forest. Stiles wasn't raised on the mysteries and horror stories that shrouded the family that lived in it. Not that he was completely oblivious. During Scott's last visit, he'd been filled in on the latest tale of terror: Apparently the two youngest hales had gone missing. The wide spread rumor was that the family had been performing satanic rituals that caused for live sacrifices. Scott, along with half of Beacon Hills High School, assumed the boys had been devoured by the other Hales in order to appease some demon. Of course and further detail had been rather hazy. Their disappearance corresponded with the year Scott found himself a girlfriend. What was her name again? Alice? Alicia? Hmm. Whatever, he'd ask Scott at a later date.

Cannibals and other freaky things probably aren't the best food for thought when combined with acres of eerie trees. After spending most of his life in the city, Stiles wasn't the biggest fan of anything remotely rustic. He liked nature in theory. And he always recycled. But an actual tree? Pass. At least there was a conveniently placed gravel drive way leading through the woods. If Stiles had been made to walk, this whole trip would've been postponed.

But it would've happened eventually. He had way too many questions and according to everyone in town, the infamous Hale family were the lynchpin of all things weird.

As he pulled into the house, the two oldest Hale siblings ware exiting the front door.

"Derek!" Laura yelled, stomping after her brother with dark hair streaming behind her. "You're gonna have to tell me sometime. You can't keep a secret worth a damn." Derek continued his march behind the house without so much as a backwards glance. It gave Laura a queasy feeling in her stomach. She and Derek had always been close. They shared their father's dark hair and their mother's blue-gray eyes. With their similar coloring, similar personalities, and the mere 10 months that separated them (which put them in the same grade) they were thought to be twins. But to Laura, Derek would always be her baby brother and it was her duty to look out for him. Even when he insists on being a stubborn, secretive jackass.

It was with this thought on her mind that she turned back around to go sulk in her old bedroom. Her plans, however, were halted by the sight of a powder blue jeep and its owner.

"Oh god, I didn't even notice you there. Did you see that whole thing?" When she only received a nod in response, she sighed. She could smell the fear oozing off this kid in buckets. "My name is Laura, but I'm guessing you already knew that. You obviously came here for a reason, why don't you come on in? I promise we don't actually eat people." She took in the familiar sight of pale olive skin dotted and adorable brown eyes. As the kid passed her on his way into the house she was also pleased to detect a pleasant mixture of Old Spice, toothpaste (cinnamon), soap, and a scent that was wholly unique to this particular human. "You're the cutie stalking my friend Lydia, right?"

This seemed to spur her guest on. "I'm not stalking her! I only wanted to know where my class was. It's not my fault she happens she thinks I'm a leper. Which I'm not by the way. She's been spreading that one around since I first spoke to her. The entire English department is convinced they'll contract some nasty disease through prolonged eye contact with me. I can't-" The whole diatribe was ended by the sound of Laura's laughter.

"There we are. I've seen you all over campus chewing off the ear of the nearest passerby. I was worried you were sick or something." Noticing the dark circles under his eyes and the flush creeping up his neck, she decided against changing her mind just yet. "You do look a little under the weather."

"That's every guy wants to hear from a pretty girl. I think there's a bug going around. My roommate and my friend are both out for the count."

An uncomfortable prickling sensation began working itself under Laura's skin. She'd have to store that little tidbit for a later date. "My mom made a big stack of pancakes this morning. We have a bunch of leftovers, if you're hungry." She offered. "And even if you're not, there's nothing like a sugar high to chase of a fever."

"I'm not familiar with that remedy. But I can't say I'm not interested."

She led him into the kitchen where he sat at the small wooden table. He placed himself in the chair that left his back to the door. A vulnerable position. Funny, if Derek weren't off having a little tantrum, he'd be sitting right across from their guest.

"What's your name again? Balinski?"

"Uh..It's Stilinski. Stiles."

The name was another ping on her radar, but she couldn't place it. "Weird first name." Stiles gave her such a winning smile, she couldn't help running her hand over his short hair before making him a plate.

"It's actually my last name." Stiles corrected. "Although, my actual first name is considered pretty weird. See, my family is this crazy combination of Polish and Romanian. My dad used to say I had pain, hard-work and magic in my blood. Which…probably is a health issue. Anyway, there's this whole crazing naming tradition where a newborn is named after the most recently deceased family member at the time of their birth. So I was named after my grandmother." Acknowledging the look of confusion on Laura's face, Stiles continued. "I know it's like super weird, right? I have five little cousins named Ivan. It's not like we're traditionalists at my house, or anything. All of my grandparents were immigrants, and to this day they barely speak any English. My dad became super Americanized as a teenage rebellion or something. But my mom always used to speak Romanian around the house. My dad says I learned that before I learned English."

"Used to? Why'd she stop?"

"She, uh…she died when I was almost four. We used to live here. Well, not here, but in Beacon Hills."

"Wait, you used to live here." Maybe that's why the name was familiar. Stilinski… "Stilinski? You're dad…was the sheriff! I didn't remember that." How could she forget that? Almost three years ago, Sheriff Benson talked about consulting his predecessor with help on their case.

Stiles gave her a comforting pat before finishing the last of his pancakes. "Don't sweat it. That was almost 14 years ago."

"Where did you move?"

"To the beautiful city of San Francisco."

"Did you like it?"

"Are you kidding? I love it San Fran. Everything about it: The sights, the sounds, the people. My friends back home are some of the greatest people I know. And my dad found this apartment . It was like perfect for us. Not too big; not too small. It had everything we needed. Although, dad just bought this house closer to the police station."

Laura could feel his sadness and smell the unshed tears. "Wow, and you left all that to come here?"

"Well, yeah. My parents met here. I was born here. My god mom and my knucklehead of a best friend live here. Seriously, that kid is like my soul neighbor. Almost like a brother."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Lydia is totally my soul neighbor." Crap, all this talking nearly had Stiles forgetting why he drove out here.

"Speaking of which-"

"Speaking of what?"

The atmosphere I the room seemed to shift. Stiles had heard that voice before. He turned to stare up at an imperious looking woman. The Hale matriarch had shoulder length brown hair and a stilted smile on her face. The laugh lines around her mouth softened her entire face. She was beautiful. But she gave Stiles a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. The last time he'd heard this women speak, something unpleasant followed.

"Oh, uh, nothing ma'am." Stiles quickly stood from his seat. He couldn't make a hasty exit if he was still sitting. "Thanks for the breakfast, Laura. I'm just…gonna go." He needed to get out of that kitchen, but he knew he couldn't leave the Hale residence just yet.

As soon as the young man left the room, Maggie Hale turned on her daughter. "Laura."

"Mother."

"Who was that?"

"Seriously, mom?" Laura rolled her eyes. "It was just some lost, completely harmless freshman."

Completely harmless. She'd heard that one before. "Ad what did he want?"

Laura's eyes flashed bright blue. "For christ's sake, he's not a hunter! Not everyone has Argent blood running through their veins. And if they did, I would smell them a mile away. And you can't make up for what happened two and a half years ago by being overbearing now."

"You blame me for what happened?" A knife would have hurt less.

"No! Kate Argent is responsible for Adam's death. But you sent Michael away when we need him most. We need to stay together, stay strong, in order to survive."

"All I could think about then was keeping my youngest child safe. I'm sorry, Laura." Maggie refused to cry in front of her daughter. "I'm sorry I don't think like a wolf. I'm only human."

"Then you're the one who should've left!" The world seemed to stop spinning for a moment. Laura saw the look of absolute heartbreak on her mother's face. And she had put it there. "Mom…mom, I didn't meant it. You have to know I didn't mean it." Laura wrapped her arms around her mother.

Understanding can be bitter sweet. It helps you forgive the faults in others and recognize them in yourself.

So, Maggie Hale embraced her only daughter. "I know baby."

"I just miss them both so much. Adam would've been 18. And now that Michael is 17 they could've both participated in the pack tradition this year."

"I know. But at least we'll have Michael back with us this Harvest. You'll be able to run and play and hunt together again. And with any luck, he'll approve of the person you're I chose for him."

"Mom," Laura said solemnly. "He's a Hale. Hope for the best, expect the worst."

It's not an easy task to sneak up on a werewolf. Their eyesight could get a little monochromatic at times, but all other senses were enhanced. Especially their smell.

Which is why Derek smelled him before he heard the sharp crack of a twig being crushed. It's also why Derek was on him before he could take another step.

Stiles knew nothing about monochromatic eyesight. What he did know was the he might want to get his checked out. Seriously. On second Derek hale had been splitting logs like some hot, modern lumberjack. The next he was wrestling Stiles to the ground. Well, less like wrestling more like dragging.

"Uh, Derek…?"