Derek Hale finally came to a stop, his chest heaving and his breath forming around him in soft, white puffs. Instead of the normal morning routine, he had felt motivated enough to run the entire length of his property. Twice. The burn in his muscles was worse than normal, but it felt fantastic.

Here, in the cold morning, he felt very much at peace. Anger came naturally to the werewolf, so he had taken up more than just his usual workout routine and upped it to extreme cardio; the burn in his lungs seemed to burn out all the excess anger in his mind… calming him…

Until the scent of blood gently riding the breeze blew past him.

Suddenly on high alert, Derek turned towards the source of the scent. Already, he could smell the decay of the corpse that the blood belonged to. In fact, smelling a fresh kill from local wildlife wasn't uncommon. Smelling a dead human, however… He shook his head and took off towards the source of the scent.

Truth was that human death wasn't all that uncommon around these parts, either.

It didn't take him long to reach the body. It wasn't anyone he recognized and, judging from the clothing and emaciated appearance of the young… woman, he determined that she was either a vagrant of some kind or one of Beacon Hills' homeless. Regardless, it wasn't her disheveled and ragged appearance that caught his attention. Derek leaned down slowly to get a closer look at the gaping wound on her neck. Whatever had done this had a lot of teeth… And, strangely enough… was completely uninterested in the rest of the body. A single bite. That was all.

"Uncanny, isn't it?"

Without missing a beat, Derek whipped around and faced the source of the voice. Luckily, thanks to years of carefully practiced control and that morning's rather exhausting run, he was able to keep his teeth and nails at bay. The menacing look in his eyes, however…

"Woah, woah," the stranger said. "Relax; I am only here to inspect the body." He slowly lowered his hands from the 'surrender' pose. "Seems you are here to do the same."

"And you are?" the werewolf all but growled.

"Clyde Duke," the stranger replied. Derek noticed his strange accent. "At least, that's who I've been for a while." He moved towards the victim and knelt down to inspect the wound at her neck. "And you must be one of the many wolves I've seen running around…. Hmm?" He glanced up at Derek with dark, amber eyes.

"…must be. And what does that make you?" He paused a second to give Clyde a once-over; non-descript black clothing, slim frame, pale skin… nothing in particular seemed special about this kid… save the fact that he had absolutely no scent whatsoever.

Clyde sighed and stood, putting his hands in his pockets. "That's not really important right now."

"You're standing over a dead body on my property," Derek replied flatly. "I think it is important."

The smaller man smirked. "Touché." He turned back to the corpse and pointed. "Do you know who this is?" he asked. Derek was still a moment before shaking his head, his eyes never leaving Clyde. "Her name is Amelia Morris. She was almost twenty-seven years old… She had been homeless since she was sixteen… Just passing through town." He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "I believe heroin was her drug of choice, but it's hard to tell with the toxins from this bite still permeating her organs… What, you can't smell it? Like sugar."

"Wha-" Derek began, but just then another breeze wafted through. The scent of blood and death was much stronger, but he was also able to pick up on the smallest hint of something… sweet.

"Aaaah, you do," Clyde replied.

"What is it?"

"Difficult to explain," Clyde replied. Derek blew air out of his nose in frustration. Clyde laughed. "I know, it's no fun when you don't get answers right away, but trust me when I say that it's for your own good… This is something you don't want to go against all by yourself."

"What are you talking about," the werewolf asked as frustration colored his tone.

"Let's keep this between us for now," he replied, completely ignoring Derek's vehemence. "We can't attack her until we ostracize the source of her power. This…" He waved his hand halfheartedly at the corpse. "This was just a midnight snack."

"What 'she'? What 'source'!?"

"I'm doing some detective work… I don't know where she's hiding yet, but I have a feeling her little 'pet' is one of Beacon Hills' shining young minds at the high school." He smirked at Derek. "She likes them young."

"Y'know, for a guy who talks a lot, you really suck at saying things."

"Keep an eye out for more bodies," Clyde instructed. "If someone other than a transient shows up… then we're in trouble."

Derek closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. "If you really think you can just show up here and give me orders…" But, when he opened his eyes, the young redhead was gone. So was the corpse. He looked around the small clearing, but there was no trace of the man. No scent, no sound, just… nothing.

After a moment, the werewolf sighed and rubbed his temples. His invigorating and refreshing morning had just ended with a mysterious boy and a body. And now both were gone. And Derek was left with nothing more than a cryptic warning.

Feeling rebellious towards the stranger's instructions, Derek turned and began the long jog home. He dealt with enough craziness on his own, there was no way in Hell he was about to take on more without some help.

OoooO

It took a moment, but as soon as Stiles' mind was conscious enough to register it, a strange burning sensation woke him from sleep. It was somewhere on it his neck… a deep seated tingle that was just annoying enough to make him move.

"Oh… my god…" he mumbled into the carpet.

It was then he realized that he was indeed on the floor. And, judging by the aches and pains in his back, he had been there all night. Even as he tried to move his limbs they felt as if they were filled with lead. Stiles' body wasn't the only thing that was sluggish; his mind was shrouded in a fog he couldn't explain, something more than just the usual morning sleepiness.

After gathering his wits together, Stiles attempted to push himself upright. However, he was unsuccessful. Why? Why… Giving up on his body, he spent the next few minutes trying to piece together what had happened… how he ended up on the floor, why everything about him moved so slowly, why… why his neck was on fire… on fire…

"Oh, you poor baby… don't you know I can smell your pain from a mile away?"

It all came flooding back to him… those blonde curls and those white, sharp teeth…

"I only want to take it away…"

Sharp teeth coming closer…

"I promise you… you will learn to enjoy this…"

"NO!" he shouted, adrenaline suddenly flowing into his limbs and bringing him back to life. The teen backed violently into his desk, causing various papers and knick knacks to fall around him and the drawers to crack loudly from the impact. He brought his hand up to the burning bite on his neck; he had managed to jar himself awake and the pain from that monster's bite was subsiding to a dull ache, but that did nothing to calm his nerves.

No matter how hard he clamped his eyes shut, he couldn't get her voice, her lips, and her scent out of his mind. And he certainly couldn't forget the strange numbness she had brought upon him. With one bite, she had taken away… everything… Nothing but numb complacency remained. He couldn't even fight back.

The odd thing was, however… that he can't remember wanting to.

That's when Stiles heard the heavy steps of his father. "Stiles?" the sheriff called less than four feet away from his door.

"We still want your dear ole daddy to be safe, don't we?"

Suddenly remember the monster's not-so-idle threat, Stiles shot upright, grabbed his hoodie, and pulled it on. He hadn't even pushed his head all the way through when his dad pushed the door open. "Oh, hey dad," he mumbled groggily.

Sheriff Stilinski gave him an odd look, but Stiles just chalked it up to the hoodie still half-stretched oddly over his head. "I… thought I heard you yelling…"

"Oh, yeah, yeah, I just… ran into my desk," the teen explained. "Y'know… just having a minor wardrobe malfunction… in case you didn't notice."

"I noticed…" his dad replied.

"Yeah, I'll just… finish dressing myself…" Stiles murmured as he slowly pulled his head the rest of the way through, careful to keep the hood up. Suddenly, he wasn't feeling too steady; he guessed it was the adrenaline rush wearing off. He teetered for a moment.

"Woah… Stiles… Are you- Stiles!" He didn't have the opportunity to finish his thought as Stiles' legs gave way and his father lunged forward to catch him. "Stiles!?"

The teen quickly pushed away from his dad. "I'm fine, I'm fine," he said as he attempted to stand on his own. "I got a little light headed is all."

"Stiles, your eyes practically rolled into the back of your head…" He kept his hand on his son's shoulder regardless of being rebuffed. "And you look a little pale… Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

Stiles was really tired of being asked that. However, he couldn't deny that he wasn't really feeling up to snuff. "…maybe I'll sit down," he conceded, plopping down on his bed.

"Here, look at me," the sheriff said. Stiles pulled the hoodie tighter around him before peering at his father. Sheriff Stilinski looked intently at his son's face. "You do look a little flushed," he observed, putting a cool hand to Stiles' forehead. Without meaning to, the teen closed his eyes and leaned forward, the cold feeling wonderful against his hot skin. "Jesus, you're burning up."

"You think… maybe lying on the cold cement in the middle of the night for an hour had anything to do with it?" Stiles asked. The sheriff pursed his lips.

"Son, you could have said you weren't feeling well."

"I really thought I was okay!" Stiles retorted. His meek voice did little to sway the argument in his favor. Regardless, the sheriff didn't press the issue.

"Look, why don't you stay home today? I've got some cold medicine around here somewhe-"

"NO!" Stiles exclaimed, but quickly regretted it. He was lucky he could think on his feet. "I don't want to get farther behind in my classes than I already am, Dad."

The sheriff sighed. "So call Scott. Have him bring your stuff by after school. Or after lacrosse."

Stiles gave his father a sly grin. "Are you really going to try and convince me to stay home sick? Doesn't that seem kind of… backwards to you?"

Sheriff Stilinski opened his mouth to retort – twice – but nothing came out. "Alright, fine. But if you pass out onto a handrail and get a concussion, you're… grounded… or something… Am I understood?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" Stiles replied enthusiastically. His father didn't seem convinced, but he dropped it and left.

Truth was, Stiles had no idea how he was going to make it through the day feeling like he did. Any other day, he wouldn't've argued with his father. However, the last thing he wanted was to be left alone again… not with the possibility of her showing up in his weakened state.

"My name's Daliah…"

"Daliah," he whispered. A chill ran down his spine as he remembered his close encounter once more. "Nope," he said to himself. "Definitely not staying here." He smacked his cheeks in an attempt to wake himself. He had survived his father… now he just had to figure out wither or not to say anything to the others.

There was no doubt about it now… he was in trouble.

OoooO

"Okay, so… Am I just crazy… again… or is something seriously up with Stiles?"

"I dunno," Allison replied. She watched as Stiles avoided the lunchroom and walked further down the hallway until he was out of sight. Lydia sighed, but a quick shrug later and she was back to her phone, browsing the many social networking sites she frequented. Allison's mind, however, was still on Stiles.

He was late to class once again and everyone noticed how off he was. It wasn't just the circles beneath his eyes, but there was a strange edginess to every move he made… like a child waiting to be smacked. He was quieter than Allison even thought possible and responded to every concerned comment with a simple, "I'm just getting over a cold". Allison had managed to snag Scott's gaze for a moment, but the werewolf could only shrug in response.

"Maybe Scott has figured something out since then," she offered.

Lydia looked down the hall that Stiles disappeared down and shrugged yet again. "Maybe it really is a cold," she replied. "In any case, my dream stalker isn't here… so I highly suggest we tell Scott and the others about this Clyde guy so that we can make sure he's not, y'know…"

"You're right," Allison commented. "I haven't seen him all day… And you said he didn't show up in your dreams last night?"

A grateful expression formed on Lydia's face. "I still can't believe you stayed up with me all night… I'll pay you back by trashing those threadbare things you call sneakers…. I think you need pumps. Yes, pumps." She nodded to herself and took a seat at their usual table.

"Pumps?" Isaac asked as he took a seat across from her.

"Shoes… Her reward for valiantly protecting my sacred beauty sleep from bad guys," Lydia explained.

"…what?"

Allison leaned forward. "It's the new guy… Clyde Duke."

"What about him?" Scott asked absentmindedly. He gave the room a once over, but soon returned his attention to Allison; she knew he was preoccupied with Stiles' behavior, but it would have to wait for the moment.

"I'm pretty sure that he came into my dreams a few nights ago," Lydia replied, her voice low.

"You… dreamed about the new guy?" Scott asked.

"No, he showed up in my dreams. Totally different."

"I'm… confused…" Isaac admitted.

Allison looked around, making sure that she hadn't just missed that head of red hair by accident. "This isn't the first time Lydia has communicated with people in her dreams."

"…Peter," Scott stated.

"He looked… right… at me…" Lydia mumbled. "I know it's him… he just popped up in my dreams and told me about the bodies… that bodies would be everywhere…"

Scott's phone vibrated on the table, interrupting the conversation. "Derek…?" he wondered aloud before picking up the device. "What's up?"

Everyone was silent as Scott listened, their eyes all on him – save Isaac, who just used his heightened hearing to listen in on the conversation. He met Scott's darkened expression as the alpha hung up. "What is it?" Allison asked quietly.

Scott looked over at Lydia for a moment, then at the others. "I think those bodies are already starting to show up."

OoooO

"Hey, Dad… turns out I don't feel that good… So, I'm probably gonna go home… Call me back. Bye…" Stiles hung up and shoved his phone back in his pocket.

"If you just push the door open the sick room should be unlocked and you can go right in," the secretary instructed. "Just push the lock in behind you."

"Thanks," Stiles replied as he followed her instructions. Once inside the sick room, he let out a sigh of relief and slumped down the wall. The day had gone much worse than he anticipated. Not only had Scott and the others been giving him the most annoyingly concerned looks, but the pounding in his head and the burn in his neck seemed to get worse as the day progressed. His limbs and eyelids were heavy and his patience for the sideways glances had finally worn thin.

He forced his eyes open and peered around the dark room. Everything seemed to have tracers behind it, making it hard for him to focus. And then… there… out of the corner of his eye… a lock of golden hair…

He burst out of the sick room and breezed past the secretary, ignoring her bewildered expression. "On second thought, I'll sleep in my jeep."

"Mr. Stilinski-!"

The teen had already breezed past her and was hauling towards the parking lot. Without a second glance, he walked past the open doors to the cafeteria. He was certain he could feel several eyes watching him, but he ignored it. The last thing Stiles wanted to do was face Scott and the others… it had taken nearly everything in him to keep quiet about his little issue… He was actually rather surprised that Scott hadn't been able to sense his deception, but then again… his heart had been fluttering since he woke up that morning.

The cool air outside felt nice on his fevered skin, so much so that he didn't bother turning on his jeep to heat it up once inside. The silence and seclusion did, however, give his mind a bit of clarity. Stiles couldn't help but suddenly feel incredibly guilty. Keeping secrets was not something Stiles enjoyed doing, especially to Scott. But, then again… He shook his head; Stiles was fairly certain that his conflicted feelings about his mother were no secret. Even if he never talked it. Ever.

"Damnit," he growled, flipping open his phone. He scrolled passed the several messages from Scott. They all said the same thing: 'r u okay' or 'text me' or 'call me when u can'. Stiles' guilt only worsened. Finally, realizing that there was no way to resolve this without cluing the crew in, he dialed Scott's number. It rang, but the busy tone also sounded. He waited patiently, though his nerve began to fade as it continued on. Eventually, he got to Scott's voicemail. "Hey, um…" Stiles paused a cleared his throat. "Sorry to take off today and… just… not being super conversational, I guess… Uh… Look, I just really need to tell you something, so… call me back…"

With that, he hung up and started his jeep.

OoooO

"Sheriff," called the dispatcher. She poked her head into Sheriff Stilinski's office. "Stiles is here." Surprised colored the sheriff's face, but he nodded and waited for his son to walk in. He was even more surprised to see Stiles in worse condition than he was that morning.

"Stiles, what on earth-"

The teen plopped down into a chair. "Hey, Dad. I called you, but you didn't answer… Sorry to just show up'n all…"

"Why didn't you go home, Stiles?"

His son was quite for only a moment, then shrugged. "I dunno," was his genius response. "Dad, can I just... wait here? I promise not to peak at case files or anything like that. I won't even snore."

Sheriff Stilinski quirked his eyebrow. "Really."

"Weellll, okay. I can't make any promises."

The sheriff sighed, but not in frustration. "Alright. I guess I did say I'd ground you otherwise."

"See? Everybody wins!" Stiles replied. His father shook his head and went back to his paperwork. Stiles just quietly curled up in the chair. Within a few minutes, the sheriff looked up to see that Stiles had already fallen asleep. It was then that he got a good, unmasked look at his son; the circles beneath his eyes were quite prominent and his already pale skin was sickly. The sheriff decided then and there that Stiles just needed some strong cold medicine and a good night's rest. The kid was go, go, go with all the monster chasing… he knew that taking it easy for a day or two – which even included a day or two off of school – would be just what Stiles needed.

He also couldn't help but hope that Stiles hadn't caught some sort of supernatural cold.

OoooO

There was something nice and warm about the chair for some reason. Stiles really really wanted to ignore the dull ring of his phone. However, it persisted. He sighed and simply continued to ignore it for the warmth of his chair.

Wait… not a chair… his bed? Wasn't he at the police station…?

"Are you not gonna answer that?"

Adrenaline poured into his veins as he shot straight out of bed. "NO!" He shouted, leaping towards the other side of the room. However, Daliah stood in front of his door with a smirk on her blood red lips.

"Oh, yes, darlin'. I thought I might come check on you. Your dear ole daddy was nice enough to drive you home… You look just adorable when you're passed out… Although you definitely did a pretty cute zombie walk from the car to your bed… Were you even awake?"

Stiles didn't respond. Instead, his hand slowly went up to the healing wound on his neck and he watched Daliah's every move with wide, unblinking eyes. Every muscle in his body was tense and the pounding in his head matched the rushing in his ears. More than anything, he wanted to call out to his father… but the predatory look in Daliah's eyes and the brute strength that he knew was hidden behind her curvy frame reminded him that the sheriff didn't stand a chance. She took a step towards him; he backed away violently. "Y-you stay away from me…" he squeaked out.

Daliah pouted. "Aww, don't be like that!"

"You bit me with your magical monster teeth and gave me what I can only describe as a hangover from hell… And you left me on the floor… Oh, not to mention you killed one of my cousins and then drove the other insane."

"I already explained to you that they did it to themselves, Stiles."

"No!" he growled, still pressing him back firmly against the wall. "I don't know what the hell you are and I don't care about your stupid secrets and sharp teeth… Just get out and leave me alone… I won't say anything, just please… Leave me alone!"

Daliah sighed. "Look, I know it's rough the first time, but it gets so much better! I promise… I'm here for you, Stiles… to take away all that pain you feel."

"Pain you created," he growled.

"You say that," Daliah said as she took another step towards him. "But I don't see anyone else here. Looks like I'm the only one that cares enough to do more than send you a text. In fact… that's been pretty common throughout all your life, hasn't it?"

Stiles clenched his fists, though he couldn't deny that she'd hit a nerve. "I ignored them on purpose," he retorted.

An interesting expression flashed across Daliah's face… something akin to indignant. "…fine. So be it. Suffer here alone tonight. Let's see if your friends, your family actually cares enough to see how poor, pathetic Stiles is." She rushed towards him, mouth open and teeth bared. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, expecting her to attack. However, nothing happened. When he opened them, he was alone once again.

OoooO

Scott and the others were silent as Derek finished his tale. "It just… vanished?" the alpha asked. Derek shrugged.

"I don't know how he did it, but he did. Just… up and disappeared…"

"Where's the sarcastic one?" Peter piped up. "He has an annoying knack for figuring out the supernatural…"

"I don't think he's feeling all that well," Lydia commented.

"Yeah, we'll just have to get him up to speed later," Scott replied. "More importantly… is this Clyde guy a threat?"

"He hasn't attacked anyone yet," Isaac stated.

"But he did show up with a dead body… A body he warned Lydia about via dream-invasion," Derek retorted. "And the fact that he had no scent… You really didn't notice?"

The alpha gave Derek a flat look. "How could I notice a lack of scent in a room full of hormonal teenagers?"

"…good point."

"I've never heard of something not having a scent before… Or being able to vanish into thin air… I don't even have a guess," Allison said quietly. "But… Lydia and I could check the bestiary for anything that fits."

"Please," the strawberry blonde exclaimed. "I love it when you just volunteer me for things. It's not like I have a life or anything."

"It's our best chance at keeping you safe," Scott replied. "He knew what we all were… there's a chance that he could be dangerous. And not to mention this… warning he keeps giving everyone."

"I'll ask the twins," Derek informed the others. "Maybe they heard something when they were traveling with the alpha pack."

Scott nodded. "Isaac and I will try to get Clyde alone… I'll see if I can't get a hold of Stiles, too. My guess is that the sheriff's department hasn't found a body yet, so we need to inform his dad as soon as possible."

Their tasks assigned, they went their separate ways.

OoooO

He had no idea what time it was, but Stiles was sure it had to be past three in the morning. He had tossed and turned ever since Daliah left, unable to sleep from fear, panic, pain, and the all-around ickiness that was permeating his mind. The she-devil's words had somehow snaked their way into his brain and refused to leave him be… Where were his friends? Why did he feel so isolated? And why wouldn't the pounding in his head just stop!?

He squeezed his eyes shut and put his hands to his temples. No matter how hard he tried, thoughts of his friends ignoring his obvious pain, his father dragging him to the funeral and the subsequent events that occurred… Not to mention his cousins and their situation… and how no one felt the need to fully inform him of the gravity of the situation… it wasn't fair!

"Ugh, shut up!" he growled into his pillow, but it did nothing for him. A deep ache formed in his chest as all of his negative emotions bubbled to the surface, as if he simply couldn't stop himself from spiraling into them. His teeth clenched together painfully. He couldn't help but deduce that he was having a really bad panic attack.

"Stiles, baby…"

He couldn't even focus on Daliah voice as it wafted from the shadows of his room. In fact, he hadn't even the energy to run away from her. He felt his bed shift under her weight as she sat next to him. "…why me…" he whispered through his teeth.

"I told you, baby," she cooed, gently stroking his cheek with the back of her hand. "I could sense your pain… I only want to help…" As much as he hated to think it, her cold hand was soothing on his hot face. It had a strange… calming effect and he was finally able to stop clenching his teeth.

"What's happening to me…"

Slowly, the blonde monster lay down next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "I've just shown you how hurt you really are, baby… And I just wanna make it better… Let me take it away again…"

Daliah slowly ran her fingers down Stiles' arm until they reached the edge of sleeve. After sitting up, she inched the sleeve of his hoodie down his arm until it was just past his elbow. He made no move to stop her, too exhausted and too blinded by misery to protest. A sly smile curved her lips and her eyes glowed red in the darkness.

She knew it.

And Stiles knew it.

Daliah was winning. With no more delay, she sunk her teeth into the crook of Stiles' arm and began to drain away his agony.

It hurt much less this time… and Stiles' couldn't help but sigh in relief as her strange venom circulated through his body and relaxed every clenched muscle within it. Bit by bit, the misery and pain he had been nearly crippled by only moments earlier melted away, replaced by the sweet, welcoming nothingness.

Daliah pulled away with a gasp. "There you go, darlin'," she murmured to Stiles. He barely registered her words, his mind already faraway. She stroked his cheek one more time. "Let me take it all away…"

She wrapped Stiles in her arms, both of them in a strange euphoria.

"Let me take it all…"

OoooO

I had a review say they couldn't see line breaks, even though I used the legit fanfiction document editing version… Are my little zeros any better?