The preserve was very much the way that Stiles remembered it, dark and spooky at night, but calm and full of life in the day. The sun was low in the sky, rising slowly and steadily as Stiles pounded down the rough tracks in the large forest, body warm from exercise and heart thumping steadily.
He'd been in Beacon Hills for roughly a week now, and had spent a lot of his time running or keeping up recently learnt skills. He was back in his old room, and when he'd first seen it he'd admittedly cried just a little because it looked exactly the same as he had left it: just a little bare.
As the sun climbed, the preserve became a little brighter; trees and plants were illuminated by orange light and any remaining condensation from the cold night was slowly vanishing in the warmth of the sun. Stiles' feet skidded slightly against some of the underbrush of the forest and his arms flailed slightly, regaining his balance before picking up speed again.
He'd had a lot of time left around to think of late, and running helped him get his wayward thoughts together, to package them all in little boxes and close those little boxes to stamp them with "SORTED" in big red letters. Scott had been running with him, until his own studies took him out of Beacon Hills because not everything could be done in their little community college.
Scott had been insistent on staying as close to Beacon Hills as possible, not that anyone beyond the Hales had listened to them. The Argents were apparently in France, Lydia had gone to whichever college she pleased because they had all wanted her. The twins and Jackson had all gone south somewhere that made Stiles breathe a little easier at night, and Isaac, who had still taken Scott's wishes into account, had only gone about an hour away from Beacon Hills to study.
Stiles had chosen to study at Stanford, who had accepted him on the basis of his application, and he didn't aim to disappoint them. He had been living on campus, working a few day jobs to keep up the price of the room, until the end of the last term: when he'd alerted the college to his plans and had reunited with his old room.
His house looked exactly the same, lit up by the rising sun. He was panting slightly, and a light sheen of sweat coated his forehead and arms. He stepped into his house as quietly as possible, finding a towel and drying himself off, padding back into his room and changing out of the loose clothes of his morning and into a pair of jeans and a blue, long sleeved, shirt. He treaded down the stairs and into his kitchen and searched the fridge, deciding on something else and closing it behind him, taking a glass from one of the cupboards and filling it with water, downing the cool liquid in one go.
Caffeine was overrated anyway.
He heard his father coming down the stairs and immediately took to making him breakfast, planning at first on something that didn't require a frying pan but deciding instead that bacon and eggs was the universal 'good morning' breakfast and started that instead. By the time his father had entered the kitchen Stiles was halfway through making coffee and settling breakfast onto a plate.
"… Morning kiddo…"
Stiles grinned at his father's uncertainty and slide the plate, now full, across the kitchen counter "How was the late shift?"
He barely repressed a laugh at his father's caution when the older man nodded vaguely and took the plate gingerly, softly thanking Stiles as he placed the steaming mug of coffee beside the plate. "You're up early"
"I'm always up early" Stiles answered, sitting opposite his father "its part of my 'being able to take on werewolves' routine"
"Well… I'm not complaining" his father said with a smile as he ate "Any particular reason you're still hanging around?"
Stiles shrugged and then scoffed "If you're suggesting it's because I'm suddenly reunited with the Hales and Scott, you'd be almost right" he answered, and then continued at his father's nod "I like seeing my family: that's a given, and it's also partially because I know Beacon Hills: it never stops being weird, and with Scott turning the 'we'll be back soon' sign I think that maybe something supernatural will decide that without the Alpha Wolf in town, there is a chance to wreak havoc"
"You say something like that and I begin to wonder why it all makes perfect sense" his father responded "Thank you by the way… for this" he added, gesturing towards the empty plate and mug.
"Duty calls?" Stiles asked as his father stood up and messed around with shoes and belts and guns and the other Sherriff stuff that they had within the house.
"Duty calls" his father confirmed with a smile, clapping his son on the shoulder "Try not to get into too much trouble"
Stiles rolled his eyes in a way that felt a little too youthful "I'm twenty-two dad, I think I can handle myself"
As the pair walked out of the house Stiles' father shook his head "I'd tell you stay away from Derek Hale as a precaution… but I know that's not happening; just remember you're not supernatural… okay?"
Stiles nodded seriously "Okay"
/
Derek Hale, Stiles decided, was officially the hardest werewolf to find.
He had searched for roughly an hour now, not bothering with phones because Derek was allergic to technology on a good day, and had come up with nothing. He had opted to instead ask another Hale, and with Cora completely intent on ignoring him that left him with one option.
He still wasn't too sure about Peter Hale; the eldest member of the werewolf family was all kinds of creepy, but at the same time surprisingly genuine when it came to his family. Stiles trusted that side of Peter, the side that had an undying loyalty to the last remnant of family he had left… the side Stiles didn't trust was the side that would kill family for power, the side that manipulated and lied.
"I honestly did not expect a visit from you Stiles" Peter greeted, smirking and leaning against the nearest doorframe, folding his arms across his chest "What brings you by?"
"I'm looking for Derek" Stiles answered, folding his own arms "Cora is stonewalling me and we both know he's allergic to phones; I've tried the preserve and all of his usual haunts" he continued, looking to the older male with his brows raised in question.
"Clearly you didn't look hard enough" Peter answered "You're forgetting Derek has a special little talent when it comes to shifting"
"Wolves" Stiles said in answer "You realise how hard it is to track animals? Let alone Derek?"
The older male smiled toothlessly "Figure it out: you're good at that"
/
"Derek! Heeeere boy!" Stiles called, whistling with a high pitched tone before continuing "Deeeeereeeeeek!"
"Dog jokes? Really?"
He didn't jump, but he did flinch and aim a punch, which was caught by the werewolf in question "There you are!"
"Here I am" Derek agreed, expression blank as he gently lowered Stiles' fisted hand.
Stiles fell silent, only an arm's length away from Derek, who was equally as silent, and they both stood between trees, the sun beginning to peak in the sky. Stiles felt no need to speak, to fill the silence, as he once would have…
He had had no reason to seek out Derek other than for company, and their silent conversation was more than enough for him, to see and be near someone he cared about was better than sitting alone in a college dorm reading or studying.
Every day he was reminded why he had decided to stay.
"You're quiet" Derek commented softly, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and gently taking Stiles' hand, leading the younger male in the direction of the edge of the preserve.
"And you're talking" Stiles countered, tugging at the hand in his, pulling himself forward against Derek tightly "It's nice"
"Would it be mean if I said that I was about to say that to you?" Derek responded, a smile on his face.
"A complete sentence…. Amazing" Stiles quipped, gently shoving the werewolf and sidestepping Derek's own attempt at retaliation.
Derek raised an eyebrow at him, and Stiles only grinned, waving at the werewolf and dodging again at the half-hearted shove.
"Really?" Derek asked disbelievingly, muscles tensing slightly in preparation in what was probably another attack.
Stiles grinned and nodded "Really"
He was on the ground pretty fast after that, sticks and other forest debris digging into his back, arms pinned by strong hands. Stiles only laughed, smiling widely at the werewolf pinning him and gently pulling one arm from Derek's grip in order to hold his hand.
"Okay, you're the Alpha" he admitted with a laugh.
Derek chuckled with a smile that was all teeth and ducked his head, tension leaving his body in one moment. They lay there for a long moment, Stiles' laughter dying down into silence.
As he made to speak again, Derek's head shot up to look further into the preserve and Stiles instantly fell silent, listening instead of speaking. Almost immediately, the werewolf's stance changed from playful to defensive, arms tensing where they now pressed into the ground at Stiles' side. Stiles gently started shimmying upright, but was immediately pushed back to the ground by Derek, who minutely shook his head and growled low in his chest, eyes glowing a bright blue.
Slowly and gently, Stiles reached to the belt of his jeans and pulled the hunting knife holstered there from its cover, thanking his conditioned precaution which he barely registered as part of his routine, and gripping the weapon firmly for reassurance.
"What is it?" he uttered, voice only a soft rasp as he aimed to stay quiet as possible.
"I don't know" Derek answered "But it doesn't feel right" the werewolf's own voice was barely a whisper, so quiet that it could have been mistaken for rustling of leaves or the wind scattering the underbrush.
"Let me up" Stiles instructed, pushing himself to his feet and crouching low next to Derek, glancing at him briefly before following his gaze into the preserve. He couldn't see anything, but he could definitely hear the sound of leaves being brushed against, sounds of branches and twigs snapping underfoot, the sound of low growls and panting.
"Wolves?" Stiles asked softly, squeezing the handle of his knife for comfort.
Derek shook his head "No, not wolves… something else"
Stiles fell silent again, listening to the footsteps, a single set ambling along, slowly growing louder. His knife felt like lead in his hands and his feet felt rooted to the spot, and then the noise finally had a face.
It ambled along on all fours, its weight resting on its knuckles just as an ape would. Its skin was course and taught, lean muscle spread across its large form. Its mouth manipulated forward and its eyes wider... it looked like a deformed wolf; lips pulled back and away from its mouth in an ever present snarl, eyes a bright, sickly green and skin a deathly grey colour, looking a lot like leather.
Slowly, it ambled forward, body moving as if on a pivot, legs moving in perfect synchronism as it picked up speed and growled the sound low and hellish with a deep echoing. Stiles reacted slowly, moving only after Derek, fully shifted, launched forward at the much larger creature: A lone wolf against a mighty stag.
Werewolves, the pack had discovered, had the ability to literally turn into wolves if they were well attuned to their power and only if their anchor was extremely strong. Only two of their pack had figured it out so far, the two being Derek and Scott. Stiles had yet to see either fully shift yet, and the full reality was shocking to say the least.
But he could write about it later.
He threw himself forward, dodging the large claws on one of the beast's paws, and sent a strong kick to the leathery hide of the creature, feeling a bone crack with a sickening crunch: a rib bone? The low roar that left the creature deafened Stiles, and the arm that smacked across his chest, sending him flying, pushed the air out of him in one moment that left him gasping on the ground. The beast's advance on Stiles was halted by Derek's own attack, the pitch black wolf leaping forward and throwing the creature off balance, advancing with teeth and claws to any part that was left unprotected. The beast swung at Derek this time, eliciting a high pitched yelp from the werewolf, and regaining its footing slowly, giving Stiles enough time to stand and throw his only weapon at the creature's back.
Universally, all pressure points were in the same area once the stance of an animal or human was taken into account, and from the way the monster froze mid strike and collapsed, a large puff of air leaving its nostrils, Stiles guessed it was the same for freaky monsters as well.
"You okay?" Stiles asked blindly, not bothering to check on Derek in favour of investigating the beast they'd killed.
"Fine" Derek responded, appearing at Stiles' side in seconds "You?"
"Winded: I'll live" Stiles answered vaguely, pulling the knife he'd buried in the beast's back up and out with a little effort and enlisting Derek's superior strength to help him flip the monster over.
"At least it's easily killed" Derek said, gently kicking at the beast's snout as Stiles examined its claws.
"Well, actually" Stiles began, voice straining as he lifted one of the creatures paws with difficulty "The blade is like a supernatural multi-tool… so it could be extremely hard to kill" he finished, lifting the claws at Derek and making a soft "rawr" at the werewolf, who simply shook his head.
They spent roughly an hour with the body, Stiles making two runs: the first to his home to retrieve a sketchpad and the second because he forgot a pencil, and he spent the time taking in every detail, drawing rough sketches and writing down all relevant traits, leaving Derek to his own devices.
The werewolf was a lot like a nosy puppy during that hour, lifting parts of the creature up and sniffing around before returning to Stiles to see what he was up to and going back and forth between the two.
"Your pacing is distracting me" Stiles commented, voice echoing in the still silence of the preserve, pencil scratching against the book in his hand, filling in the primitive lines of the drawing.
"I'm not… sorry" Derek admitted, ducking his head and sitting down beside Stiles, giving the body another kick from where he was sitting "It's just weird"
"You talking is weird, go back to growling" Stiles countered, shoving the werewolf beside him, who chuckled and lifted a chain off the ground "What've you got there?"
"A chain… necklace maybe?" Derek answered, leaning back against the tree Stiles was resting against and holding it to the slowly waning light.
Rustling started up again, and Stiles' knife was drawn in a moment, but then voices started too, youthful and weary.
And headed in their direction.
Stiles shared a glance with Derek, who stood up and pulled Stiles along with him, jerking his head to the left and then veering to the right. Stiles smirked: he knew where this was going.
They circled a pair of high school students, threading their way past trees and getting behind them, meeting one another in the middle.
One was a boy, a blonde mop of hair on his head dressed in a heavy jacket and jeans, holding the hand of a girl, also blonde, whose hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail.
"Josh, we're never going to find it… besides, we're not even supposed to be out here" the girl pleaded softly. "The other girls say there are wolves out here"
"There are no wolves in California sis, that's a known fact" Josh responded to his sister, pulling her up the large incline he was on the top of "besides, it's gotta be around here somewhere"
Derek looked to Stiles, and then titled his head in question, which Stiles responded to by holding his hand out in the pair's direction "After you Sourwolf"
Derek smirked and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, and immediately Stiles knew what was coming as he walked a few paces behind the werewolf as he called out.
"What are you doing here?" Derek called, voice echoing across the stillness of the preserve, gruff and assertive: exactly the way he had sounded when Stiles and Scott had been out on the preserve.
The teenagers spun around, guilt and shock written across their faces.
"This is private property" the werewolf continued, stopping to allow Stiles the time to catch up and stand half a step behind him.
"I… uh… sorry we…" Josh gabbled, flustered and clearly shocked by their sudden appearance.
"You were looking for something?" Stiles suggested, raising an eyebrow at the girl's assertive nod.
"A chain… silver, it's really important… have you seen it anywhere?" she asked nervously, voice soft and a little shaky.
Stiles nodded once and held out a hand to Derek, who looked to him and handed him the chain they had found. The idea was to keep the teenagers away from the beast's corpse and out of danger, giving them what they were looking for and maybe offering them a ride home was Stiles' theory to keep them out of the loop. He closed the distance from the pair in moments and gently placed the chain in the girl's hand.
"Come on" he commanded, waving a hand in their direction before turning to Derek with a smile "I'll catch you later"
Derek chuckled, breaking the façade that he had created "We both know I'm faster" he stated as he walked in the opposite direction, likely to loop around after they were out of sight.
Stiles shook his head and turned to the pair, inclining his head to the direction that he was going and leading the way. Not uttering a word as he strolled through the preserve and to the edge of the tree line where the road began and where his Jeep was parked.
"You walked out here?" Stiles asked disbelievingly, looking around for a car that wasn't his own.
"The estates are a lot closer now" the girl answered "It's not that far… it's still creepy though"
Stiles nodded in answer and turned to the pair, jerking a thumb at his Jeep "Want a ride?"
Josh shook his head "Don't take rides from strangers, sorry dude"
As they walked away, Stiles scoffed and rolled his eyes "Teens"
