Disclaimer: Do not own Teen Wolf or any associated characters. Only what happens in my head.
Warnings: Language

Five

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Sure enough, Stiles barely slept the next three nights. He'd toss and turn whenever he did lie down due to that strange feeling of being watched. Several times he had even gotten out of bed to peer out onto the street below. The lampposts outside barely shed their dingy yellow-orange glow into his room. At night he could only see the dark shingles on the roof below his window and the near black of the grass. The street was always quiet with only a few cars parked curbside. Most of which he only knew what they were from having seen them during the day.

The thing was, he didn't just feel it at night. Stiles had that sensation of being watched during the day as well. Part of him wanted to blame Derek for having even told him about it. Another knew that he'd been feeling it before then. He'd had that prickling since he'd moved back. Of course, he did have to admit that it was stronger during the night. When he was trying to sleep. Several times it had even woken him from a restless sleep.

The fourth day found him lying on the couch with the television remote on his chest, half awake. Stiles had chosen to lay with his head on the opposite end of the couch than he normally would, owing to the light streaming in through the open curtain that he simply didn't have the energy to get up and close. He was zoned out, only partially paying attention to a documentary on the nearly extinct black rhino. Wait, when did he turn that on? Last he'd remembered he'd been watching something about Egypt. Or was that wrong too? He gave himself a mental shake to bring the television back into focus.

His father suddenly stood in front of the television, blocking Stiles' view and bringing him out of his reverie. "Stiles, did you hear a word I said?" His father's voice sounded sharp and insanely loud after having tuned everything out.

"Sorry, Dad. What?" He stretched both arms high above his head and forced himself to sit up. One hand moved to rub hard at his face.

"I said you look like hell, son. Do you need to see a doctor?"

"No, no, I'm fine. Just.. just tired, dad." A yawn stretched his lips wide as he leaned back into the couch.

Noah stared at his son, unconvinced. "If you still look like that when I get home tonight.. we're going to the hospital."

"Fine, I'm fine. I promise. Be careful out there." He cast a quick smile toward his father as he began to drift out. Noah hesitated, unsure if he should leave or not. After a moment he pulled the blanket that had been draped over his recliner and covered his Stiles with it.

Stiles hummed his thanks and let his eyes become unfocused on the screen again; he barely heard the key turn in the lock while drifting back into that state of semi-awareness. The narrator's voice droned on until it became nothing more than a steady buzz of sound at the back of his mind.

He'd blinked, or so he thought, and the next time Stiles opened his eyes it was dark outside, the television still droned quietly in the background, though now showed various images of some location that had been abandoned. Neck stiff from the way he'd slept, Stiles sat up and rubbed at it with one hand while reaching for his phone with the other. His father had left about six hours before, so he'd actually managed some semblance of sleep. That didn't stop his body from aching for more.

A yawn parted his lips as he stood, tossing the blanket toward his father's recliner on his way toward the kitchen. He'd barely thrown a Hot Pocket into the microwave when his phone began chirping loudly. Rolling his eyes, he trudged back into the living room. Half expecting it to be his dad or even Scott it was a surprise to see just a number. One he didn't answer. Unless Stiles was in a particularly mischievous mood he didn't answer unknown numbers. Too many spammers and scammers. And he was too tired for all of that today. Tonight?

He watched the screen blank out.. then immediately begin flashing. Same number. The microwave beeped loudly and a sigh was exhaled. If it was important, they'd leave a voicemail. With a shrug of his shoulders, it was dropped into his pocket as he made his way back to the kitchen. Stiles pulled the Hot Pocket from the microwave and grabbed a root beer from the fridge. No sooner had he put the both of them onto the table and his phone began vibrating and chirping again.

An annoyed sound was made as he answered. "Oh, my god. Geez! What do you want?" He practically yelled.

Stiles was met with silence on the other end. "Hello?" No response. "Hellllloooo...?" He drew out the word. Again, no response. His eyes rolled as he ended the call, then dropped his phone onto the table.

As he ate he scrolled back through his previous missed calls, the ones that had come in while he'd been sleeping. Ten. Ten in total, all from the same number. His brow furrowed, setting the food down in favor of a drink, as he stared at the only information given to him by his caller ID. Beacon Hills, CA. Had to be someone he knew or someone who had gotten a hold of his number.

Setting the can of soda back onto the table he groaned when his phone rang again. Same number. "What?" His voice a monotone. No response but air on the other side. "Jesus! Get a fucking hobby, you juvenile tw-" though he cut himself off at the sound that came through now.

A low-pitched feral growl, not unlike the one he'd heard from Scott during those first few full moons. Almost akin to the sound Derek had made a few days before. Stiles sat in silence for a few moments longer, listening to that snarling on the other end. When he'd finally found his voice, it shook. "Scott?"

The growl raised in volume and Stiles tried to ignore the way it made his heart jump into his throat. Stiles tried to swallow it back down to keep his voice from squeaking when he spoke next. It didn't work. "Derek?"

The next reverberated loudly enough that it felt as though it were right next to him. Stiles quickly hung up the phone and dropped it onto the table beside the last few bites of his food. Appetite gone. The sound was so eerily familiar. It brought back a memory with perfect clarity.

Scott yawned from his place against the rock near their campfire. It was small, well contained. Both boys knew better than to build a fire that could become anything larger. "We should get some sleep, we promised my mom we'd clean out the garage tomorrow, remember?"

A laugh escaped him, throwing a few leaves at his friend. "We have all day, it's still early!"

"Stiles, it's almost one in the morning."

"Seriously?" Astounded, he looked at his watch. Sure enough, it was already 12:52a. The two had been sitting out here talking and catching up since 7. Even though the two talked regularly, they still found a lot that they hadn't talked about or things that they hadn't talked in depth enough about.

Stiles was on his feet first, stretching his arms high above his head until his back popped. Scott grabbed the bucket of water and poured it over the remnants of the fire they'd had going. The crooked-jawed boy was in the midst of filling said bucket with dirt to lay atop it when they both froze at the sound. That snarling growl. Stiles allowed his gaze to track around the semi-darkness, their only light coming from what moonlight filtered through the leaf-filled canopy above.

They both saw it at the same time. A flash of black streaking straight for Stiles. "Get down!" Scott yelled and dove toward his friend, catching him around the middle. Both boys went tumbling onto the forest floor, Scott let out a pained cry. Whatever it was had darted off further into the trees without giving either of them the chance to really catch sight of what it was. Just something big, black, and furry.. though Stiles had been certain he'd seen a flash of red.

Something he'd shaken off as his imagination at the time, or even the fact that Scott was bleeding profusely from a bit on his arm. Stiles had yanked off the plaid button-up he'd worn over the white t-shirt and wrapped it around Scott's arm haphazardly while the both of them looked for whatever it had been. But the large creature didn't make a reappearance. Nonetheless, they'd quickly packed up and ran for Melissa's car. Which had been parked about a half mile's hike from where they'd camped.

Stiles had wanted to take Scott to the hospital, have him checked for rabies, or if he needed stitches. By the time they'd gotten to the car though the bleeding had stopped and it barely looked as though the animal's teeth had broken skin. Something both of them had marveled at on the drive back to Scott's, considering the amount of blood that had soaked into Stiles' shirt.

The loud chirping from his phone brought him out of the memory. Same number. Stiles gritted his teeth and picked it up again. "Who the hell is this?" Again, nothing but silence greeted him. Straining his ears, his stupid human ears, for any other sound he jumped when the growl came once more.

See, the thing is that even if Stiles was scared out of his mind he still found it in him to cop off at the mouth. Plucking courage from.. god knew where. He stood, lips pursing, "you think I'm afraid of you? A few growls like you're an over-enthusiastic guard dog?" Whether he would admit to it or not-he wouldn't-he was afraid. Terrified actually.

The snarl that echoed through his speaker caused goosebumps to erupt along his arms as a shiver rocked up his spine. "Oh, fuck you, Kujo." He snapped back, ignoring the slight quiver in his voice. Stiles picked the first dog reference he could think of.

Admittedly, he should have picked something a little less vicious, but it was out there now. As the growling started again he hung up, then held the phone close to his face while chewing on his thumb. His heart was

beating a little too fast. Stiles chewed his lip for a moment, then called Scott. No sooner had the other boy answered and the number was calling him again. He barely cast a glance toward the screen to see it. So it definitely wasn't Scott trying to prank him. "Hey, Scotty! What, uh, what are you doing tonight?"

"I'm at dinner with Allison and her parents. I guess her aunt just got into town and she wanted to meet me."

"Oh, well.. shit, sorry to interrupt." And he really was.

Scott must have picked up on something in Stiles' tone though because he heard the other boy's voice grow concerned. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Of course." He wasn't. "Hey, you got Derek's number?" He could at least see if it were the elder boy trying to pull a fast one. Though he doubted it.

Scott hesitated a moment, long enough that Stiles was pretty sure he was debating whether or not he was actually alright. "Y-yeah, I'll text it to you. Want me to come over after?"

"Y-No. No, Scott, spend time with Allison." He'd almost said yes, but Stiles didn't want to sound weak or needy. After all, it could just be some asshole playing with a phone and trying to get under his skin. Did Stiles believe that? Not a chance.

His phone beeped again. Same number. "Alright, texting it now. Did you want anything else, man?"

"Nah, thanks. Appreciate it."

Both muttered goodbyes and hung up. Stiles dropped his arms to his sides with a frown. Scott's text came through and he glanced at the number. Not Derek's either. Ignoring yet another call, he tapped on Derek's number in the text to call it.

Unsurprisingly it rang several times before going to voicemail: 'It's Derek, you know what to do.' "Hey, uh.. it's Stiles, can you, um, can you give me a call as soon as you get this?" He rambled, probably too fast for the other man to even understand, then hung up. Stiles had never been a fan of leaving messages.

He quickly cleaned up what little mess he'd made at the table, then stood beside the sink as that prickling feeling came across the back of his neck again. The one that made him feel as though he were being watched. He was getting pretty freaking tired of that feeling. His gaze focused on the rectangular window on his backdoor. He really, really wished his father had put up a curtain, or blinds, or something. If only because he'd become rooted to the spot.

Out in the yard, shaded apart from what light glowed from the lamp over their garage door, Stiles was sure he'd seen a shadow move. But.. shadows didn't move. There was a spot, though, just out by the trees that lined the back of their property, that seemed darker than the rest. That was the space that had appeared to move.

Curiosity always won out over self-preservation. Something he was many times before, and would be for the rest of his life, perpetually mocked for. Stiles found himself leaning closer to the glass, watching that darkened spot again for movement. He could still hear the television droning in the background-the narrator speaking in a dull monotone-more of a steady noise than anything he could really understand. Apart from that, and the beating of his heart, the house was silent.

So when his phone suddenly began chirping, seemingly louder than it had been before, Stiles jumped hard enough that he nearly dropped it. Which resulted in a mad scramble to hold onto the phone before it could hit the floor and break its screen. "Jesus!" He muttered to himself when he brought it up. Derek. Without a second thought, he answered the phone while looking back out into the yard.

"Hey."

"Stiles... you okay?" Derek sounded almost as concerned as Scott had.

"Um.. that's debatable." There! He saw the darkened mass shift again. There was no way that was just a low-hanging branch. No way. "Hey, uh.. you busy?"

"What's going on?" Well, that wasn't really an answer to his question, was it? Stiles had to fight not to roll his eyes as a result. He kept his eyes glued on the black mass, watching for it to move again, for it to do anything. Stiles didn't immediately answer because it had moved. Away from the garage, away from the light. "Stiles." Derek's voice barely drew his attention.

"I, uh.. there's something in my backyard."

"What do you mean something?"

"Well, I don't mean that I can see freaking bunnies and unicorns." He heard the other male sigh and had a feeling that Derek had rolled his eyes. Not that he blamed him. Honestly, it was a common response to his sarcasm.

"Is your front door unlocked?"

"What? No. Why would it be?"

He heard Derek sigh, as though the answer was obvious. Only after the man spoke next did Stiles realize that it should have been. Torn between not wanting to take his eyes off of the mass and needing to go unlock the door he hesitated a few seconds longer. Then with a heavy sigh, he turned and darted for the door. The second he turned the lock Stiles ran back to the kitchen. It didn't matter.. it was gone.

"Dammit." Either he was losing his freaking mind, or whatever it was had heard Derek. He was betting on the latter.

"What did you see?" Derek stared out of the window as well, watching. Searching for whatever Stiles had seen, or thought he'd seen.

Stiles threw his hands up in annoyance, then pointed in the general direction of the last place he'd spotted the large shape. "Just this.. I don't know.. shape? Mass? Shadow?" He sounded annoyed with himself. "It was darker than everything else and I know I saw it move." Just then his phone rang again.

Same number. The screen was turned toward Derek, who only raised a confused brow, before he'd answer it. Stiles didn't say anything, just waited while staring at the taller boy. On the other end was nothing but air. Silence. Though after a moment he saw those expressive eyebrows shift downward as he reached out and clutched Stiles' wrist to bring the phone, and by extension Stiles, closer.

He didn't have to ask to know that Derek was listening more intently, hearing something that he couldn't. The growl started again, low and vicious, feral. Before Stiles could have the opportunity to hang up or say anything at all the call ended. The low beeping seemed to agitate Derek's more sensitive ears; he guessed, by the way he winced and released Stiles' arm.

"I've been getting those calls all night." He frowned to himself while pocketing his phone.

Derek's eyes flickered cobalt as he turned to look out of the window again. Moving closer to the door, he stared deeper into the trees than Stiles could see, the whole werewolf eye thing making that simpler. Stepping aside, he wrung his hands, pressing the thumb of one into the palm of the other. Derek turned back toward him now, scrutinizing him.

"You're not nearly as afraid as you should be." The elder boy remarked. Stiles should have guessed that he was trying to get a read on his emotional state, now knowing that he could.

His shoulder rose and fell in that way that was entirely Stiles, bodily. As if he didn't know how to make the same movements subtly. Honestly, it wasn't something easy for him. "I don't know.. I mean, I am, I guess. I'm also just.. angry."

"Because he's targeting you?"

"No, because I wish he'd call more." He replied sardonically, then rolled his eyes. "Of course because he's targeting me!"

Those expressive brows arched upward as though to say 'really'. Derek, however, said nothing. Instead, he stood there and just watched him. It really should have been creepier, the way that the guy stared at him with such intensity. Stiles, however, found that he had to forcefully tear his gaze away as his heart fluttered. To cover that up, Stiles cleared his throat.

"I, er, realized something earlier. Remembered really."

He glanced out toward the yard again, watching for the mass that was probably well gone by now. Hopefully scared off by Derek's presence. However, he did have to wonder what that meant when the guy left later. Stiles was also curious, very at that, why a beta even being there would scare off an alpha. A thought that he would explore more later. For now, Derek was watching him expectantly.

"The night Scott was bitten.. I was there." His brows furrowed, eyes distant as he thought back on it again. "The wolf was running at me. The only reason Scott was bitten was because he shoved me out of the way.." Blinking to bring everything back into focus, he looked back toward Derek. "Do you think it was the same wolf as now?"

Stiles was sure the snarls sounded the same, but maybe all wolves sounded the same. He had mistaken Derek for Scott when the wolf had attacked his Jeep. Which he still didn't have back, by the way. The mechanic was waiting on new bearings because, apparently, Stiles' were shot. Whether from the accident or just normal wear and tear he didn't know.

The guy fell silent as he leaned back against the counter. His arms crossed over his chest and Stiles couldn't stop his gaze from darting over Derek's impressive frame. It really wasn't fair for someone to be that good-looking. It was enough to give a semi-average guy like himself a complex. Derek was, if he had to restrict it to one word, beautiful. The mildly sun-kissed skin, perfectly manicured hair and beard, those stunning mottled green eyes, the way his biceps bulged and shifted as he flexed his hands.

Stiles cast his eyes anywhere else before he found himself staring long enough for it to be weird. Derek must have assumed the sudden fluttering of his heart was attributed to his own prolonged silence. Or, if he thought it were anything else he didn't comment on it.

"I don't know if it's the same wolf. Not for sure. If it was targeting you then.. there's every chance it's the same one now."

"Guess I should be flattered. My own personal Jacob." He scoffed and shook his head.

Derek's brows shifted down and then back up again. Clearly, he didn't understand the reference

and Stiles was in no mood to explain it. More so because he didn't want to admit he'd seen Twilight. He waved a hand dismissively, though Derek already seemed to have moved on.

"We might need to call Scott."

Stiles was immediately taken back. Especially because Derek had so fervently objected to it. To be fair, the guy only had three days left on his time limit before Stiles planned to tell Scott anyway. "You still haven't told him?"

"No. But I don't think I have much choice now." Derek shook his head, glowering at the floor. "If it's stalking you this insistently there's one of two things it wants: to turn you.. or kill you."

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