I'm so, I'm so tired, I'm so tired of trying

It seems to me that maybe

It pretty much always means no

So don't tell me you might just let it go

And often times we're lazy

It seems to stand in my way

Cause no one, no, not no one

Likes to be let down

When Stiles was dropped off at his house, he was barely able to walk without his legs trembling. The moment the black Camaro was out of sight from Stiles' bedroom window, he collapsed. Tears streamed down his face and resisted the urge to punch the wall. The ride to his house was deathly quiet and tense, Stiles' hands firmly gripping his knees. He was scared that if he let go, he'd beat the crap out of Derek. Or, at least, attempt to.

Stiles ran a shaking hand through his short hair, breathing heavily. He needed to calm down or he'd end up having a panic attack. He gulped down the bile that had built up in his throat. As he began to calm down, he noticed the changes around him. He could hear his neighbor arriving home, tires squeaking slightly as pulled into the driveway. His room smelled mostly of clothes, an odd cottony smell, and of medication.

Everything was going to be different. He wasn't going to be the Stiles, the poor, defenseless human in a world of dangerous threats. To his realization, he was one of those dangerous threats. Suddenly, in a panic, he shot up and ripped open his computer. In a frenzy, he began to look up the updated moon cycles. His heart sank. Tomorrow he would turn into a psychotic beast with fangs and claws and, oh lord, the glowing eyes.

He rubbed at his eyes. He felt as if he had just aged a million years.

Waking up was different. Everything was so bright, so vivid. He could hear his dad grab his keys, the scribble of a note on the counter, the door shutting, the car leaving. Everything. He took a deep breath. Thank God it was a Saturday.

With a groan, Stiles rolled out of bed and onto the floor. He felt oddly fresh. He stretched out, slim limbs reaching and pulling in the air. Finally, when he was content, he pushed himself up and towards the bathroom.

The shower was warm and relaxing, soothing his muscles. The water felt different on his skin. It felt as if his touch had been boosted up a few notches. Stiles couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Stiles pulled on some clean clothes, sniffing at his detergent. Why was he so disappointed that they didn't smell like Derek had?

The lanky werewolf-teen spent his entire morning surfing through the internet, looking at countless articles and info, and then heading down stairs to watch some Saturday TV. He was in the middle of his fifth bowl of Captain Crunch when Derek arrived.

Okay, well, arrived wasn't the best word for it. Slinking, ghosting, creeping, scaring-Stiles-shitless were some really great adjectives. Nonetheless, when Stiles felt that warm hand on his shoulder, the familiar scent, he snorted the spoon he'd been lifting to his lips in surprise.

"Wha- Oh my god, it burns. It burns." Stiles clutched his nose and throat in agony. Derek growled. Wasn't being a werewolf also mean Stiles would be able to sense people when they got near, especially his Alpha?

No, not his Alpha. Nope.

"We have training today. The full moon is tonight," Derek grumbled, circling around to the front of the couch and standing in front of Stiles.

Stiles peered up at him, eyes narrowed. "I do have a computer, you do realize that, right?" Derek, again, growled. Stiles shut his mouth quickly.

"I'm taking you to our hideout, it'll be safe there-"

"Woah, woah, woah! No, no, no. You think I'm going anywhere with you? You, of all people? Being anywhere near you is unsafe. Hell, if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't even need to have training so that I might be able to control myself from murdering innocent people! You know what, just get out, go, leave, buh-bye. I don't want to see you, or your stupid little pack around me anymore. You guys cause me a crap load of stress and work that is not normal for a sexually frustrated teenager like me. I can take care of myself, thank you very much."

Stiles was panting and energy was crackling underneath his skin. He clenched and unclenched his fist. During his rant, he'd risen to his feet and was standing toe-to-toe with the Alpha. Derek's eyes were glowing faintly red and his jaw was clenched. God, Stiles really wished he could learn to keep some things in his head.

"Stiles. You need to listen. You have to come with me."

"Oh, so now I have to come with you? Like how I have to save Scott at every turn, or how I have to fix every single thing that goes wrong? How I have to look up information that has absolutely nothing to do with me? Or how I have to be the go-to guy when everything is falling apart and I have to have the answers to everything? Is that what I'm here? Just for information?"

Stiles breathed heavily, throat hurting. That last part wasn't meant to come out. Just like the majority of the time he talked. He always said things that he didn't mean to say. Derek was staring at him now, eyes wide and mouth slack. He was shocked. The anger that had rushed over him so fast was gone just as quickly, leaving a throbbing, empty feeling. He collapsed back down on the couch, drained.

"Stiles," Derek said softly. Stiles gulped. Derek slowly lowered himself to Stiles' level, eyes concerned. "Stiles, look. The full moon is tonight, the rest of the pack is back at the station waiting. You were just bitten yesterday. You can't possibly be ready for turning so early. Scott is different. He had an entire week, you only have less than 24 hours. Now, Stiles, please come with me."

I wouldn't even have to be ready if it wasn't for you. None of this would have had happened if it wasn't for you. But Stiles didn't say that. For once he kept it to himself, unnaturally quiet. He stood up with Derek, trailing with him to out of the house and to the car.

Isaac stood really close. Like, really, bubble-invading close. His blue eyes were shining brightly, reminding Stiles of an eager puppy. "Are you training with us?"

Stiles nodded. He couldn't help but let a smile slip when he saw Isaac's fast burst into a grin and eyes glinting yellow. Stiles patted his elbow and then followed Derek to the center of the floor, beside the abandoned bus.

"Aright, first we'll try and control your anger. Now, put some space between your feet- not that much-, okay, now lift your arms at the elbow. Loosen up. Now I'm going to come at you. Deflect me."

And just like that, Derek had morphed and was charging Stiles with fangs and claws bared. Stiles felt his heart pound crazily. What was he supposed to do? Punch him? Duck? Bob and weave? Slice? He looked down at his hands. They were normal, no claws, no werewolf changes. He looked back up, and received a fist full of Derek's curled fist. He felt the bone splinter as his nose broke and something snap when he landed on some metal as he crashed to the ground.

"Stiles!" Isaac was beside him in an instant, eyes wide with worry. Stiles groaned, clutching his nose.

"It's broken, Jesus, you broke my nose!" Stiles went to sit up, only to be stopped by a sharp pain in his side. "And my rib! You bastard!" He lifted his eyes to Derek's grinning face. Grinning? Who the hell did this guy think he was? First he turns Stiles into a werewolf without his permission and then he goes and breaks some of his bones and then he has the audacity to grin? Like everything is just fucking grand?

Anger swelled up so fast and so uncontrolled that it scared him for a moment. Then that doubt was gone and Stiles was snarling, eyes glowing. He could feel his claws and fangs, the anger that pulsed through him. He shoved Isaac to the side, slashing his shoulder open in the process. He leapt up and charged at Derek, growling like a maniac.

Derek was waiting for him. He caught the fist that Stiles threw at him, twisting it until it broke. But Stiles didn't feel the pain. He slammed his open palm against Derek's cheek, knocking him to the ground. The Alpha looked bewildered, blood running down his cheek before the wound could close up. Stiles left him no time to bounce back. He slammed down on his chest, knees constricting his legs. He grabbed his throat, squeezing. He lifted his other clawed fist, ready to rip out Derek's throat.

A high-pitched whine ripped through his anger. Stiles could feel the anger evaporating, feeling something else. Worry? He turned around to see Isaac on the floor accompanied by Erica and Boyd. His shoulder was still bleeding slightly, the wounds closing slowly. Why wasn't it healing as fast? Stiles stood up from Derek, slinking over to the hunched wolf. He dropped to his knees beside Isaac, looking into his blue eyes.

With a whine of his own, Stiles pressed his cheek against Isaac's. Isaac stopped whining and pressed back. Stiles purred and moved to the healing wounds. He licked and cleaned the bloody tissue. Isaac purred back, burying his head against Stiles' collarbone. Erica and Boyd were both whining, pressing closer to Stiles and Isaac.

Okay, everything was getting really weird now. Stiles had never seen Scott do this to anyone in the pack? The only person he nuzzled and pressed up against was Allison. And when he started doing that, you had better leave ASAP. Scott had a tendency to not stop when he started touching Allison.

Slowly, the weird craving for skin on skin contact died away, leaving behind a very confused Stiles. He still had his arms around Isaac and Erica and Boyd were making pitiful noises. What was he even doing before this? Oh, yeah, attempting to kill a socially incompetent Alpha. Which reminded him that Derek was still on the ground, staring at him.

Great. Everything was going great.

Isaac's shoulder had healed and he looked kind of embarrassed from the way he had acted. Hell, Stiles was beyond freaking embarrassed. He was mortified.

Derek slowly stood up, almost scared that if he moved too fast, he'd have Stiles at his throat again. When he had egged him to attack him, he'd thought he could take him. He could take him. He was an Alpha. So why had ended up on the floor choking?

The Alpha huffed, turning his back to his pack, bounding into the abandoned bus. He was really starting to regret accidentally turning Stiles. That kid screwed up so much in a normal life, sedated by drugs and curly fries, how was he going to fair living as a werewolf? Hell, how would even make it past the first full moon?

He groaned and dropped his head into his hands, listening to the whimpers of his pack outside. He had really, really screwed himself over this time.

This chapter was extra long! Thanks to everyone who is sending me PMs and reviewing! Also thanks for fav'ing and following this story, it means a lot! Next chapter will be centered Stiles turning during the full moon and maybe Derek facing some feelings! Also, Scott will be finding out very soon!

Jack Johnson - Flake