Authors Note: HEYO! XD Please tell me what you think; I would love to know XD I own nothing and no one, apart from the following: Zane, Gabriel (Gabe).

JUST SO YOU KNOW: like everyone else, I have no idea what Stiles' real name is, so I'm going along with what everyone else puts :) and I've made his middle name up XD

You guys are all so amazing and I love you all! In a non-creepy non-psycho kind of way XD

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Chapter 15

Stiles

When I woke up on Friday November 1st, at ten in the morning, was surrounded by heat. It took me seconds to remember that I was in the living room, surrounded by the Pack, since we never moved after we finished 'Toy Story 2', during the early hours of the morning.

I was still between Derek and Isaac, Isaac's back to mine, while I faced Derek. I found it weird that I was actually able to sleep surrounded by strangers, but I found it stranger how I had ended up pressed against Derek's chest, with the Alpha's arms wrapped around me and my head resting in the crook of his neck. Derek – still asleep – had his heard turned down, pressing it into the top of my hair, the air he was letting go of disturbing the locks.

How did that even happen?

More importantly: why was I not panicking?

I would never have let this happen with someone, even in an unconscious state, but somehow I had with Derek... And it didn't feel bad...

What was happening to me?

Pulling my head back and shaking it a little, I carefully and slowly removed myself from the sleeping Alpha, making sure not to wake him or anyone else up as I did so.

It took about five minutes to actually get myself standing and another three to get myself out of the puppy pile, but I managed it in the end.

Now, onto my first order of business: bathroom.

I had a spark of inspiration whilst in the bathroom – shut up, it happens for people.

And that was how I found myself in the kitchen making breakfast.

I never actually made breakfast for them before, only ever lunch and dinner. But if it wasn't for them, I wouldn't have even been there that morning... So breakfast it was!

It was a good thing I knew what they all liked, how they all had their coffee or if they had coffee at all. I knew where they all sat and what mugs or glasses they preferred to use on a morning.

Living with these people for just over a month had actually put me into a routine. A routine that I had memorized already.

I had the table all set, with coffee brewing near me, as I went about making pancakes and cooking bacon and scrambled eggs and sausages.

I had never made pancakes for such a large group, especially when that group were mostly werewolves... Even as a half wolf half fox I didn't eat that much, but that was more due to my father starving me most days, to be honest... So it was going to be interesting to see how this would work.

But I was going to try. It was the least I could do; to say thanks for all they had done for me so far...even if I barely knew them.

The bacon, sausages and eggs were done and loaded onto each plate, which were already placed on the table and still nice and hot. I was still working on the pancakes, already on my tenth batch.

I didn't know how many I need, so I decided to make eleven batches of pancakes... At least then I should have more than enough.

It was then that I heard the faint footsteps of one person making their way towards the kitchen. I kept half concentrated on them – so I wasn't surprised and attacked when they walked in – and half concentrated on the pancakes. I couldn't let any of them burn!

"Morning." I greeted, once the footsteps stopped in the doorway. "I didn't know how much I should make, so I just made a lot. Well, I don't know if it's a lot to you, but it's a lot to me. But I figured werewolves eat a lot, so it's fine, and they can always be kept for another time if need be, well, that's if you want to. Do you guys even like pancakes, I really should have asked, I'm so sorry! Do you guys like pancakes? Or should I throw these out? I am so..."

"Don't throw them out." Derek's sleep roughened voice said, drifting through the air over to me. "Why are you babbling so much?"

Cringing slightly, I could feel the heat rise to my face – I was blaming the heat from the oven!

I didn't turn around, just continued to pour the batter into the pan, flipping it when needed. Clearing my throat, I kept a close eye on what I was doing... The last time I made pancakes, my dad had decided to use the heat to burn me, since he wasn't able to get to his cigarettes or lighter.

"Sorry, I do that sometimes." I whispered. "Though it would be worse if I was nervous."

"Do me a favour?" Derek asked, walking closer until he could grab his mug from the table, the walk to my side and fill it with coffee. "Never get nervous."

Glancing to my side, I caught sight of the guy smirking a little. Was it bad that he looked hotter when smirking? Probably, yes! I should not be thinking that, I should not be feeling this!

"What's with the breakfast, anyway?" Derek asked. "Thanks, by the way."

"My way of saying thank you." I shrugged. "For last night. For taking me in. For everything you've done for me so far, really."

Derek didn't say anything, but I could feel him watching me. But it wasn't like most people would, he wasn't staring and judging me, he wasn't gawking. He was just looking. That was the only way I could describe it.

It didn't feel as uncomfortable, though there still was some discomfort.

"How are you feeling after yesterday?" Derek wondered, quietly.

"Sore." I sighed. "But I've had worse. You've seen my medical history. I'll be fine though, don't worry about me."

"Too late. I've been thinking. Why don't we have some private training sessions, just you and me? So you can start learning to control your wolf and fox."

"You would do that? For me?"

I turned to look at Derek, forgetting, for a moment, about the pancakes and the hot pan. I watched as Derek nodded, calmly... I allowed a small smile to appear on my face as I nodded back, silently hoping that we would start very soon.

Derek and I started these lessons the next day – Saturday, November 2nd – in the afternoon.

The others were sitting, watching TV, while Derek and I were in the training room. I had already removed my shirt, to save my scars from being irritated from the beginning, Derek doing the same for a reason I wasn't sure on. Probably so it wouldn't cling to him.

It was then that I noticed – apart from his hot, Godlike body – the tattoo on his back. For a moment, I thought I was seeing things, but even after blinking as fast as I could and rubbing at my eyes, it was still there.

Well, that's a first.

The tattoo was higher up than mine, between his shoulder blades, while mine had been placed on the middle of my back. It was the only one he had on his permanently slightly-golden-tanned skin.

And, you know what, I was a guy, I can't help if I'm starting. At his tattoo! Yeah, totally at his tattoo...

"What?" Derek huffed.

I hadn't even realised he had turned around until that moment.

Coughing to clear my throat, I looked up. Derek was frowning slightly, but not out of anger, but out of confusion. It was like a puppy – heh, puppy...

"Your tattoo." I explained. "I didn't realise it was the same as mine."

Derek just grunted.

"Why did you get it?" I asked, not able to help myself. "You know the reason behind all of mine."

Derek stayed quiet for a moment. I thought that he would just turn around and not tell me anything. Which would be weird, since he had been nice to me so far. But then that nothing, really.

"For me, it stands for the three types of werewolves – Alpha, Beta and Omega." Derek told me. "It reminds me that, while we can rise, we can also fall – a Beta becoming and Alpha or an Alpha falling back down to Omega status."

"When did you get it?" I asked.

"When I was eighteen living in New York, with my sister Laura. A year after the fire that killed my family, and a few years before Peter went crazy and killed her, when she moved back here."

Oh... I was going to stop talking.

We didn't take a break.

I didn't ask for one.

I didn't want one.

We had been going for six hours straight, nonstop.

But I could feel both my wolf and fox getting antsy – mainly my fox –, trying to get out. But I held them back. I had to stay in control, no matter what.

I couldn't let them out!

I pushed myself past breaking point, not stopping even once it became a tiny little dot behind me. I was sweating, ready to collapse.

But I kept going.

Countless times Derek had asked if I wanted to stop, a couple of times he tried to force me to. But I wouldn't.

I needed to get this over with. I needed to be in control!

I couldn't live my life thinking that at any moment I could turn and hurt someone.

So I kept going.

"Stiles, you need to take a break." Derek said, stepping closer to me as we continued to spar.

"No." I panted, still dodging and dealing attacks.

Derek grabbed hold of both of my wrists, stopping me from doing anything.

"I mean it, Stiles. This won't help you to gain control." Derek growled.

"It will!" I shrieked, shaking all over.

"How do you know?"

"BECAUSE I NEED IT TO!"

Now I didn't mean to. I honestly didn't mean to do it. But I really should have listened to Derek when he told me to take a break.

Why?

Well, after I yelled at Derek, I was suddenly no longer human. My fox had found his way out, turning me into my fox-self. The sudden change disrupted the control I could have over the different elements, causing a strong wind to flow into the room for a moment, making tables of weapons and punch bags fall to the ground, or be blown across the room.

One cabinet, one that held the sharper weapons, fell from behind me, landing on my back. If it was my wolf or half and half then I would have been fine, but because my fox was a lot smaller, it was harder to get the heavier stuff off of me...

Especially when I was finding it hard to shift back to normal.

My fox made a sound halfway between a distress call and a young fox crying, the sound motive enough for Derek to lift the heavy metal case off of my back.

I couldn't stand up.

The bones in my back had been damaged and it would take me ages to heal. As in, they wouldn't be healed until tomorrow, when I woke up. Even then my back would be badly bruised for a while.

Guess it was a bad that I knew that, huh?

Derek actually carried me into the living room, gingerly placing me onto the cushions of the armchair he usually sat on. I whimpered slightly as I was moved, curling up as soon as I wasn't being touched, my tail going under my head, paws tucked under.

"Why is there a fox in our living room?" Erica asked, walking in from the kitchen.

"Oh, it's so cute." Allison smiled.

The hunter came closer, but was stopped when Derek stretched out a hand.

"It's Stiles." he told them. "Don't ask questions. No one touch him until he's back to being human."

The two girls nodded, slowly, watching me. Yeah, it was a little surprising when you saw someone as a fox for the first time.

I liked being a fox though.

Red and white fur, black legs as well as the tips of my ears. My tail was fluffier than what it used to be when I was a kid, but I still looked a little like a fox cub. My mom loved it when I first turned into a fox. I was only five when I first turned into a fox. I was a cub at the time and dad was working. Mom practically squealed when she saw me. The noise startled me enough to change back and that was when mom picked me up, hugging me close. It was then that she told me what I was, what we both were.

I was excited to know that I was different and I understood right from the beginning that this was something I couldn't tell anyone. I was so excited that I accidentally wolfed out, getting mom to grin and hug me even tighter...

She didn't get to teach me anything though, since she had gotten ill when I was six. She was in and out of the hospital and I was always looking after her at home. She gave me a whole load of books for my tenth birthday, just five days before she died... It was as if she knew she wasn't going to be around any longer to actually teach me anything. But she had told me everything about being an Alpha wolf mixed with a fox, right from the moment she had fallen ill.

She knew somehow, so she tried to give me as much information as possible.

But it wasn't the same as having her here, being able to teach me.

I whimpered again, burying my face into my tail. To be honest, I was glad I couldn't turn back just yet. It meant that I couldn't cry.

I didn't realise I had fallen asleep until I woke up early hours of Sunday morning, still lying on Derek's armchair, a large and warm blanket covering me, pulled up to my neck.

I was back to being human now, no one dow...

Ok, lie; there was someone down here with me. Someone lying on the couch closest to me.

Derek.

Huh... No one had ever stayed with me, after I was injured, before.

Slowly, I sat up. Thankfully, my back had healed and the bruises had formed now, so I could walk. Though it would be painful.

Carefully, I stood up, wrapping the blanket around myself, shuffling over to the stairs.

It was agonisingly painful, moving with my back like this. But what was worse was walking up the stairs. I bit my lip as hard as I could to stop from screaming; only allowing myself to wince with every step I took.

And I had two flights of stairs to get up, as well as two hallways to walk down.

I would say this was hell, but I couldn't take that title away from my father's house.

By the time I got to the room I was using, I was panting and sweating. I closed the door as soon as I got in and pulled the blind down over the window, before letting the blanket fall to the ground.

Gasping slightly, warm tears falling silently over my cheeks, I pulled myself into the bathroom that was attached to the room – I know! Closing that door, I turned so I could lean against it without hurting my back. Then, and only then, did I allow any sound to leave my mouth, allowed the tears to just fall freely, without restraint.

This would have never happened if I hadn't told dad I was gay.

No, correction, this would never have happened if I hadn't been born.

I remember once, after all the shit had started with my dad and I started thinking that, I actually had tried to end it all. Dad had stormed into my room while I attempted it... He was so pissed he actually locked me in the basement, keeping me there for days.

He did that every time I tried, and eventually I just gave up trying.

There was no use trying now, I mean I doubted the wolves and Allison would actually let me get close to doing anything like that again...

I didn't bother wiping the tears off of my face; instead I just pushed off of the door – gently – walking over to the walk-in shower. As soon as I was in and had closed the glass door, I switched to water on before sitting on the tiled floor.

I couldn't stand up any longer; otherwise I would fall and hurt myself even more.

What I needed right now was for the hot water to work out the knots in my bed, so I could crawl into the soft bed and sleep until Monday morning.

Hopefully, by then, I would be able to walk without wanting to collapse and cry.

The drive to school on Monday just killed.

I was constantly moving about, trying to get comfortable, or at least in a position that didn't hurt my back... But it was impossible.

In the end I just gave up and drove.

It got to the point where I was actually happy to get out of the car and walk. Of course, I had forgotten that I was sporting a black eye and a cut on the head from Zane... Well, I had forgotten, until people started staring and whispering about them.

If only they knew I could hear them...

As soon as I was out of my Jeep, I stuck close to Isaac, Jackson, Danny and Scott as the five of us made our way to our Chemistry class. To say I had gone back to being jittery was an understatement... I was absolutely petrified, thinking that there was a possibility Zane could still being around.

Or worse: my dad could be waiting to make an appearance.

Isaac was the first one to pick up on it, giving me a small smile and making sure I was between him and Scott, while Jackson and Danny were walking behind the three of us.

I thought I would be fine once I got into the class, since I was right at the back, against a wall. But I seemed to have forgotten that our teacher – Harris – was a fucking asshole. I swear, if he could, he would fail me without a moment's hesitation. Thank God he couldn't!

To be honest, I don't even know why I took Chemistry. Apart from the fact that I was good at it, there was no reason for me to actually take it! Well, there was the fact that I had to fill a space on my timetable, but still! Why did I have to pick it?!

So, because I was trying t drown out the sound of Harris' voice, I ended up thinking about Zane and that he could be anywhere.

He could be somewhere in the school for all I knew.

Scott, the closest wolf to me since he sat in front of me, turned around.

"Hey, dude, you ok?" Scott whispered. "You're heart's beating like crazy."

I was about to reply. I had opened my mouth and everything. But...

"McCall! Stilinski! Turn around and shut up!"

Like I said, Harris was an asshole!

The rest of my day pretty much went the same as when I had started it off: staying close to at least one person in the pack and looking out for Zane.

I tried to keep my mind off of him by drawing – doing more portraits of the Pack or my mom. It worked for the most part.

As I sat in my last lesson of the day – art, not that anyone in the Pack knew I took it – I sat there, continuing on with my project, thinking about what I found in the room I was using at the house that morning.

When I woke up I found, on the desk, more art supplies from Derek. Well, some were on the desk, two were resting against it. The two resting against the desk were a large sketching pad and a big canvas. Those on the desk were a range of expensive and proper artist sketch and coloured pencils, as well as paints and paintbrushes.

Seriously, this guy was giving me more than I ever had before...

Anyway, I was carrying on with my project for art.

I was doing a lot of little projects really that all came together to create the one big one. I was going to have ten pictures all together; eleven if you counted the one that would be in the middle that the other ten would branch off of, though the one in the middle was just writing in an arty way, to be honest.

But if it turned out the way I pictured it in my head, then it would be awesome!

"Wow, you're really good." a voice from beside me said.

It took everything I had not to jump and hurt my back. I turned to my left, looking towards the person that had spoken to me.

He was about my height – if I stood up. Blonde, green eyes, tanned skin... He basically had the typical surfer look about him. It was good looking, I guess. Nothing to call the media about. Definitely wasn't on Derek's level, this guy was way beneath that.

"Thanks." I muttered, turning back to what I was drawing.

"I'm Gabriel, but you can call me Gabe." he told me.

"Stiles. Though you probably knew that."

'Gabriel' sat on the desk, next to me and my work. Sighing slightly, I put my pencil down, leaning back – carefully – in my chair, crossing my arms.

"Stiles is quite an unusual name." Gabriel commented.

"Nickname. No one calls me by my real name, and no I'm not telling you." I told him, plainly.

"Oh, that's fine. I don't need to know it, Gorgeous."

"Don't call me that. And leave me alone."

Gabriel just grinned, probably thinking he was being charming. I wanted nothing more than for him to just piss off.

"Oh, come on, Angel, you don't mean that." Gabriel laughed, winking.

"Don't call me that." I growled. "Now, leave me alone. And if I have to say it again, I will get violent."

"Fine, fine. I'll see you around, Beautiful."

Gabriel walked away, out of the art room.

I did not get a good vibe off of that guy...

By the time I got back to the house, everyone was sitting in the living room. But none of them seemed as calm and relaxed as they usually did.

No, they were kind of panicking.

Frowning, I left my backpack by the stairs. I walked into the living room, clearing my throat to grab their attention.

"There you are, where have you... Oh my God, you're bleeding!" Lydia yelled.

I looked down at my shirt, seeing the red splattered across the material. Whoops...

I was bombarded with everyone asking me where I was and what happened and if I was alright. It was as if they had forgotten that I couldn't actually reply if they were yelling the whole time...

Peter seemed the first one to notice this, getting everyone to quieten down, before gesturing for me to speak.

"I was at the school." I explained. "Getting a little more of my project done. And this isn't blood."

"What is it then?" Derek growled, stepping closer.

"Paint."

There was silence for a minute.

"Paint." Jackson repeated. "Why are you covered in paint?"

"Because I take art, smart ass. Why else?"

"You take art, chemistry, English and music? They're strange choices."

I just shrugged.

Later that Monday afternoon, I was sitting outside, lying on the porch, looking up at the sky. Ever since I was a kid I loved to look up at the sky, just staring at the stars and the moon at night, and making pictures out of the clouds during the day.

Everything was so calm, so peaceful.

So it only made sense that I was attacked by some creature!

It had glowing eyes and had long sharp metal claws that he would use repeatedly slash his victims with. It had a mask fashioned of metal and like a helmet covered his head and also part of his face. The part of his face I could see though was horribly disfigured, bearing scars similar to that of a severe burn victim.

Only one creature came to mind.

A Spring Heeled Jack.

I was on my feet within seconds, facing the beast.

I was going to have to be careful; a Spring Heeled Jack could breathe hot blue flames that he would use to stun people with prior to an attack. If I got a face full of flame, then I was screwed.

I snarled, claws lengthening, one eye glowing red while the other glowed purple, fangs starting to grow.

It was just as I was about to attack that the door opened, Peter and Derek stepping out onto the porch.

The Spring Heeled Jack turned, escaping using his tremendous jumping skills. Like, seriously, they were known to be able to jump great heights with extreme speed and ease into surprise attacks or away from the authorities.

"What, in the name God, was that?" Peter breathed.

Sighing, I de-clawed and de-fanged myself, my eyes still slowing, as I turned to face them.

Great, this was just what we needed – he thought, sarcastically.

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