It came out of nowhere for Stiles Stilinski. Most of his friends were supernatural in some way. The most of them were werewolves. He'd always been the usual guy, the regular one—-also the brightest one, but he wasn't the type to brag. Yet he never expected to experience the unfathomable agony of an alpha bite. His jeep had broken down on his way back from Scott's place, so he wanted to take the woods shortcut home. He knew he'd made the wrong decision when he heard twigs cracking under the weight of something and the distinct growl of a werewolf. Despite knowing he couldn't outrun a werewolf; Stiles took off running into the woods. He could sense the creature approaching, so he kept running, swearing under his breath that he was too far from Scott's house to be rescued by his super hearing. Stiles was tossed to the ground. He fought towards his assailant, only noticing the vivid red of its pupils. In his side, he felt a piercing agony. He yelled, still attempting to flee through the agony and blood flooding his shirt.
The wolf then vanished, leaving Stiles alone in the woods by the side of the road. When he raised his dirty shirt, he lay on his back, breathing through the agony. It was right there. A wolf bite, large and bloody, reminded him of Scott a few years back. It hurt like hell. He looked as though he would die, and it occurred to him that he might. His body could resist the bite almost as readily as it could tolerate it. In any case, his life was about to change forever, and he hadn't had a choice in it. But he couldn't care about it now. He needed to get up and walk. He needed to go back home—-or wherever.
But he was halted by a vehicle driving down the highway. It passed him at first, but then stopped and backed up. Stiles took a glance of the license plate as it flew by, but all he could see was the passenger side entrance. It seemed to be familiar...
Stiles found out why when the driver got out of the car and knelt beside him, showing him a hazy outline of Derek before the alpha wolf emerged. "Derek..."
"Stiles? What the hell is going on?" Derek anxiously examined Stiles' body, looking for the cause of his injuries. "What are you doing out here? What happened?"
Stiles took a deep breath and swallowed hard. "Jeep broke down. I was trying to get home. A werewolf…attacked me. I got bit."
Derek's attention was drawn to Stiles' torso, where he noticed a large bite mark on his abdomen. His hand was hovering over it. "Did it come from an alpha?" Derek's voice became louder as Stiles did not respond right away. "Was it from an alpha, Stiles?"
Stiles nodded. Stiles could see Derek's brain running from the expression in his eyes as he shook his head. He assisted Stiles in standing up and almost pulled him into his car. He focused on another alpha stalking teens in the woods, but he realized he only had a few minutes before Stiles' body responded to the bite. He re-entered the driver's seat and raced down the highway to his loft, arriving in less than 10 minutes and, luckily, without crashing.
Derek assisted Stiles out of the car and lifted him into his loft, carefully setting him down on the bed. Stiles' bite mark was already swollen and bleeding, but he didn't seem to be in as much pain as before, which Derek took as a positive indication. Derek searched about for his first aid kit, which he discovered hidden in a closet. He began to work on Stiles' wound, washing it with alcohol. "Ouch!" Stiles cried out, "I'm already dying. Do you have to make it worse?"
"You're not dying," Derek replied continuing his work, "Now stop squirming or I'll bite you myself. Then you actually will die."
Derek washed the mark before covering it with a bandage pad, while Stiles scowled and hissed in pain. Stiles seemed fine without the conspicuous bite mark, save for some paleness.
"Thank you," Stiles said as he ran his hand over his bandaged wound. He wasn't doing any different, at least not yet.
"You're welcome." Derek pulled up a chair next to the bed. "Did you see the alpha that bit you?"
Stiles shook his head. "No. I saw his eyes. I was trying too hard to get away to see anything else. Then when he bit me, he just…left."
"Stiles, why the hell would you walk through the woods at night instead of sticking to the road?"
"Because it's a shortcut! I take it all the time. And I thought I knew every freaking werewolf in Beacon Hills. How was I supposed to know that someone other than Peter had a thing for assaulting random teenagers in the woods?"
"Because you're smarter than some random teenager at least I thought you were until tonight."
"You know, I admire how you can compliment me and insult me in the same sentence. It's a real talent."
Derek rolled his eyes and reached into his pocket to get his phone. "I'm calling Scott."
Stiles jumped towards Derek knocking the cell phone out of his hand, so it clattered to the floor. "No, no, no. Do not call Scott! Do not call anyone!"
Derek raised an eyebrow. "Isn't he your best friend? And shouldn't someone who cares more about what happens to you know about this?"
Stiles scowled. "If you didn't care about what happened to me, you could have left my dying ass on the side of the road. Secondly, no Scott doesn't need to know about this. No one does. Because if I actually do die…I don't need them worrying about me, seeing me like that." He remembered Jackson's reaction as his body resisted the bite. Hallucinations, black blood, and pale skin He would have died in pain if he hadn't become a kanima in secret. Scott, Lydia, and his father didn't deserve to see him that way. "How long do I have?"
"Stiles…"
"Derek…" Stiles stared Derek in the eyes, and Derek could see the young boy's resolve in the face of adversity. "How long do I have?"
Stiles had always been weak on the outside, but Derek had seen his inner strength come out with everything he did. It made an impression on him. "24 hours. That's the window."
Stiles agreed, pondering what to do next. He took out his phone and texted his father, lying that he had planned to spend the night at Scott's place. The sheriff would be unconcerned because it happened enough when Stiles hung out with Scott. He switched off his phone after the text had been sent.
"Mind if I stay here for the night?" He didn't have somewhere else to go. And, as much as Stiles despised admitting it, Derek was his best bet at getting out of this mess.
"Fine. But you're sleeping on the couch." Derek pulled out a shirt from his drawer. "And take that blood-stained shirt off. It's making me sick." He tossed the shirt to Stiles.
Stiles changed his shirt. Derek's shirt was a baggy top that was too large for him. But it smelled sweet, like Derek, and not like his blood-stained tee. Derek smirked a little bit as he looked over at Stiles in his shirt. The kid was far too thin and lanky for his own good. Derek arranged a pillow and a blanket on the sofa and motioned for Stiles to move, which he did. "Try to sleep," Derek told Stiles, giving him the most compassionate look, he could muster. "Tomorrow is going to be hell either way."
Stiles rolled his eyes and laid back on the couch. "As heartwarming and supportive as always."