Fic: Discovery Channel (1/12)

[sadatelcontar]

Title: Discovery Channel
Author: kayevelyn
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Stiles/Derek
Rating: Overall R
Warnings: eventual knotting
Summary: Stiles is the best werewolf ever. fork in the road au. (were!stiles)
Notes: This would not have happened without evanelric. She gave me the original idea of a verse where Stiles got bit instead of Scott (for porn). She helped me plot this out. She beta'd this. She helped me come up with the title and the summary and just. Her! She helped a ridiculous amount. So thanks so much to her for helping me get this off the ground bb ;~~~;

This is part of a larger series which consists entirely of porn involving Stiles/Stiles and Stiles/Derekx2 Those aren't important to the fic but they are fun :)

[Read on AO3]


The house phone rang right as Lennie and Mike were arresting the bad guy in a rerun of Law and Order. Stiles looked up from his American History textbook as his dad answered it with a gruff Sheriff Stilinski. The only people who called the house phone were from the station or telemarketers, and since it was 10:30 on a Tuesday it had to be the station. Process of elimination for the absolute win.

Stiles watched as his dad took the cordless phone into the kitchen for some privacy, sent a prayer to his mom like he always did, and scrambled for the other phone in the office as quietly as he could. He got it off the hook silently, just like ex-officer Williams had taught him when he was eleven, in time to hear the dispatcher report that state police were coming in.

“Have you got the joggers’ statement yet?” His dad asked.

“Yeah, Officer Rogers and Lieutenant Smith took them when they got to the scene. We’ve already got the K-9 unit on the way.” It was Harley from the station. She always took the night shift.

“Okay, okay. Put the call to state police. I’m sure they’ll love to get their hands all over this. Has the ME gotten to the scene yet?”

“They are en route. Smith says he’d estimate our Jane Doe to be in her mid-to-late 20s. I’m sure we’ll find more once we find the other half.”

Stiles’ dad snorted. “Yeah, that would help. Alright, I’ll be there in fifteen. Gotta make sure my kid isn’t getting into any trouble.”

“Gotcha.” Harley laughed, and she might have had more to say but Stiles was already running back to the front room, trying to act like he hadn’t just been eavesdropping.

His dad came back from the kitchen and didn’t spare him much of a glance as he grabbed his coat and badge. His gun was already tucked into his holster.

“Going somewhere?” He raised his eyebrows when his dad gave him one of his looks.

“Got a call from the station. Nothing too big.”

“Mrs. Casey’s cat is stuck in a tree again?” He gave his dad an innocent look. That had been the code when he was a kid.

His dad heaved a sigh. “Probably more like a lion. Now remember, bedtime is at 11, so right after this episode. Put all the dishes in the sink.” Stiles snorted and looked at their takeout dinner. They only used dishes for holidays, if that. He wasn’t holding his breath for Christmas this year, it was looking like he’d be playing Halo with Scott while their parents took the night shifts. “And no following me.” He said that part firmly, as if it would actually stop Stiles.

He saluted, and gave his father the courtesy of waiting five minutes before he scrambled for his room. He debated the merit of trying to be covert about this by sticking a pillow under his covers and climbing out the window, but decided against it. Old lady Matilda next door had nothing better than to watch him. She’d notice and gossip. He grabbed his keys and as he looked around the living room to make sure he had shut off all the lights the excitement truly hit him.

“There’s a dead body.” He barely restrained himself from fist pumping the air. He ran out to his jeep. He needed to tell Scott. This was the biggest news Beacon Hills had had in-ever!

Sometimes Stiles had to stop and wonder why Scott was his best friend. It sure wasn’t because of his intelligence. But Scott had other, decent qualities. One of them was that he got Stiles. And by “got Stiles” he meant Scott wasn’t a complete idiot all the time and ran when there were cops. Even more, he ran in the opposite direction from Stiles so that they wouldn’t get caught together.

Stiles knew Scott wouldn’t give him up if he was the one caught so he just focused on going as fast as he could away from his father. He didn’t want to be caught here; the talk he’d get would be terrible and his dad would be so disappointed. So he ran, trying to remember the right way back to the road.

He stopped to catch his breath when the sound of the police finally disappeared. He bent over, hands on his knees as he tried to get his eyesight back in focus. He’d started to get tunnel vision right about the time he jumped over the second fallen tree. He pushed himself back up and looked around, trying to see anything recognizable.

He was deep in the woods, that much was clear. There were trees, and more trees, and then nothing else. He was completely lost, and it was starting to drizzle. Thank god he’d doubled up with his hoodie-sweater combination.

At least he was the one with the flashlight. He turned it on, hoping that the light would make the trees and bushes magically become recognizable. Unfortunately all it did was allow him to see trees and bushes in a faint yellow glow. And oh look, there were some squirrels he could see now, proving he wasn’t alone, and that was an owl hooting.

He paused, looking around. He’d started narrating his life again, in the middle of the woods, with a potential killer around. Great, now he was letting Scott’s paranoia get to him. He was so much cooler than Scott. He didn’t get scared at typical wood-noises.

Or deer! Stampede of deer!

He jumped to the side, avoiding the deer coming right towards him, and planted himself on the ground to avoid the final two deer that lagged behind the rest. He flipped off the flashlight. It was probably what had spooked them in the first place. It was okay though, because he was almost at a clearing, and the moon was shining down. It would be a full moon in a few days. He wondered if that crazy person they’d let into their group in WoW would be too busy running skyclad through the woods to go on the raid they were planning. They sure had been going on about how special it was that Yule fell on a full moon this year.

A sound snapped him back into the present. He was still seated on the now wet ground, and he probably had a huge dirt stain on his pants. He looked around and reached for his flashlight. Even if the light would bring the attention of more woodland creatures, it made for a good weapon against crazed killers who ripped bodies in half.

His breath picked up. He’d touched something. It was cool and flesh-like.

“Shit.”

He closed his eyes, bile rising in his throat. He swallowed it down and mustered up the courage to turn on his flashlight, looking right at the other half of the dead body.

He didn’t scream. His mouth was too dry for that. He pulled his hand off of the body’s shoulder, while taking in as many details as he could. The part of him that wasn’t sick to his stomach was cheering because yes, he’d found the body. The upper half of the body of some poor girl ripped right in two. Then the other part of him kicked in.

He threw up.

As he emptied his stomach of his Chinese takeout dinner he heard the sound again. It was a deep growl and he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie. He needed water or something.

The growl came again. He couldn’t tell from where. He backed away from the body and pressed himself against the tree just to have the comfort of something against his back. Nothing could come from that direction.

He turned just to be sure before looking forward again. There were red lights in front of him.

Eyes.

He panicked and sprinted away.

His heart was beating fast against his chest, and his legs burned. Something was closing in on him. He could hear it. God he was gonna kill his coach because all those suicides he’d run the past two weeks during conditioning were definitely not helping.

There was a howl and then he was being pushed down. Something tore into his side and Stiles tried to turn and get away. He threw his hands up, eyes shut because he really, really didn’t want to see what he was fighting. He kicked his legs, and his foot connected with the soft underbelly. He grabbed a fistful of fur, too thick to be hair, and pushed, trying to get out from under whatever it was.

His side hurt as he managed to get to thing off of him and he didn’t think, he just started running again.

He beat his dad back home, small miracles. He trekked upstairs, careful not to bring too much mud with him. He kept one hand pressed to his side as he sent a text to Scott telling him he was home. He could feel the blood oozing onto his hand and he’d need to clean that up.

Stiles stripped his shirt off, careful around the bite. That’s what it was, a giant bite. He winced and poked at it before he grabbed his phone and snapped a picture. He wasn’t going to risk it getting infected by taking off the bandage tomorrow during school to show Scott. This was a much more hygienic option. There was also less of a chance of Scott passing out.

He poked at the bite some more, trying to figure out what could have bitten him. It was probably a mountain lion, though it sure hadn’t felt like one. Nor had it growled like one. Stiles had spent last summer volunteering for his dad at the nature centre. He knew what animals were in the woods now, and he knew which ones used to be in the woods. Wolves hadn’t been in California since the 1960s.

If he hadn’t known he would have guessed a wolf had done this.

He bandaged himself up just as his dad came home and he hid the bite under his shirt. There was no reason to worry his dad.

Stiles woke up to Kesha brushing her teeth with a bottle of jack. He groaned and slammed his fist against his phone, trying to shut off the alarm. His peace and quiet lasted five more minutes before his dad knocked loudly on the door.

“6:45!” His dad called out, like it pleased him to get his son up this early.

“You’re a cruel man!” Stiles mumbled back as he pulled himself up. He prepared himself for the pain he knew was coming as he stood up, but it didn’t come.

His eyes shot open and looked down just to make sure he was really standing and doing things that should be causing him excruciating pain. He was, but there was no pain. His hand flew to his side and he didn’t even wince as he slapped where the bite was.

Had been, at least. He blinked as he looked down at perfectly healed skin that was under the bloodied bandage. This was not good, or at least, this was very weird. This was not normal. He kept touching the freshly healed skin before he looked at his phone. He grabbed it, flipping through the photos, which were still there. It hadn’t been a figment of his imagination. There had been a bite. A really gruesome bite, from something that was most definitely not a wolf.

He couldn’t help where his mind immediately jumped to. Stiles tossed his phone to the side and rubbed his face. He’d been playing too many video games and watching too many bad B-movies. There was probably a perfectly reasonable explanation to this.

There had to be, even though he could smell his dad making himself breakfast with way too much salt. Before he could stop himself he opened the door where the smell just hit him stronger, and he called down to his dad. “Dad, what have we said about salting your perfectly healthy eggs?”

There. He heard something, like a stuttering. He narrowed his eyes and tried to focus.

“What are you talking about? I am making 100 percent perfectly healthy eggs.”

Stiles snorted. “My telepathy tells me you’re lying!” He closed the door and tried to calm himself down from an anxiety attack when he heard his dad throw out the eggs he was making and start making new ones, all the while muttering under his breath.

Yup. Definitely something other than whatever his mind was jumping to. Perfectly good scientific reason. Yeah. Brains were those super tricky parts of your body that did things that surprised you but were actually totally, one hundred percent normal.

He closed his eyes and talked himself down from the lycanthropy wall, jumping back into reality. He focused on getting dressed and grabbing his backpack, ignoring the sounds of his dad plating their food. He was definitely just overreacting.

Stiles took one last look at the bloody bandage in his garbage bin before he ran downstairs.

The scent of eggs hit him full force and he took a deep breath. His dad hadn’t added butter or salt and he smiled in victory.

“Now isn’t this just delicious, father-mine? Good old protein and nothing else.” He scarfed his eggs, chugging down the milk his dad had put out.

“Now I know that’s not what you really want to talk about,” his dad said with a tired laugh. Stiles had to stop himself from touching his hip. How had his dad found out? His dad kept right on talking, “but I want you to know I’m proud, and surprised, that you didn’t go out last night.”

Stiles knew his face was slack with surprise. His dad gave him a look and he tried to fix his face to something more neutral. He took a non-drink from his empty glass. “Yup. That’s me. Totally reliable. Did you find the other half of the body, by the way?”

His dad narrowed his eyes. “Now how’d you know about that?”

“Oh, look at the time! Gotta get going or I’ll be late. Take care, you were out late, and those woods are treacherous.” He clapped his dad on the back and took off like a shot before his dad could guilt trip him into talking. Stiles had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from spilling everything, and he didn’t even know what everything was.

Scott was waiting for him when he pulled into the parking lot and he ran over to their meeting spot, slamming his palm against the hood of Jackson’s car just to be spiteful as he passed by. Scott looked up and waved as Stiles practically crashed into him.

“Dude,” they said at the same time, and Scott laughed, motioning for him to go first.

Stiles collected himself. “You didn't text me that you’d got home!” Better to ease his way into this.

Scott looked sheepish. “My mom kinda caught me. I got lost and ended up at the hospital.”

Stiles laughed. “What really?”

Scott nodded. “Yeah, how lame is that? So what about you? Anything exciting happen to you?”

“Oh you know, nothing big. Except for this,” he tossed Scott his phone, open to the picture he had taken last night.

Scott’s face contorted and he went a little green. “Oh. Stiles! I thought you promised not to show me any of that best-gore shit again after the last time.”

Stiles slapped Scott on the back. “It’s not from that website. This happened to me last night.”

Scott looked at the picture again, turning the phone over and over. “What? What bit you?”

“No clue. That’s not the creepiest part. I woke up this morning, and it wasn’t there.”

Scott looked at him with wide eyes. “What? But how?”

“No idea.” Stiles cut off what he was saying when the best scent to ever have scent hit him, and his eyes cut over to Lydia. Of course, perfect Lydia Martin. His eyes tracked her as she walked passed him. “Nice perfume!” He called to her, and watched as she just kept walking. “And of course you ignore me, which is just typical.” He looked at Scott. “What?”

“You just, that was a really lame line. ‘Nice perfume’ you don’t think she’s stupid enough to think you could actually smell it.”

Stiles made a face, and looked back to where Lydia had gone into the school. “You mean you couldn’t smell that? She smelled delicious.”

Scott looked at him oddly. “You sure you didn’t hit your head or something? Here, let me look into your eyes.”

Stiles punched his shoulder. “Shut up. And dude, that isn’t the weirdest part. I found the other half of the body.”

Scott’s eyes went wide and he flailed his arms a little before he ducked their heads close together while they walked into school together. “You found the body? Did you tell your dad?”

“No. I was kinda distracted by the whole I’ll be grounded until I turn 80 bit, and, you know, disappearing bite.” He gestured back to his side as he turned and pulled up his shirts to show the non-bit area.

Scott looked from his waist to his phone. “Wow.”

“Oh seriously Stilinski, put that away. No one wants to see that.”

Stiles dropped his shirt and let out a sigh, trying to reign in the bubbling rage that started deep in the pit of his stomach every time he heard Jackson Whittemore talk to him. It was stronger this time, probably because of how on edge he was over what happened.

“Just ignore him,” Scott mumbled, wrapping his hand around Stiles’ arm and pulling him towards homeroom.

Stiles flipped off Jackson and his group of friends, sending him a nasty look to go with it. “Nice cologne, did you bathe in it?”

Scott snorted, and Stiles grinned as Jackson’s face morphed from easy maliciousness to rage as his friends started snickering as well. Scott kept pulling him along, but he heard the furious whispers around Jackson’s group even after he got to homeroom.

“Stop laughing.”

“Well he is right, you did over apply the Axe after practice,” Danny said sincerely.

Stiles could hear Jackson’s teeth gnashing together. He counted that as a win.

***

Beacon Hills hadn’t changed in the past six years. Derek couldn’t see if the shops were different, but the little things didn’t make Beacon Hills. The smell was the same; the feeling was the same. People went about as if nothing substantial had ever happened here, and nothing ever would. Exactly like they did when he’d left.

He had pulled into town around nine in the morning after a brutal haul through Nevada. He’d gotten a grand total of 10 hours of sleep since Sunday but he still felt wired. He knew it was the adrenaline pumping through his body, pushing him since last night when he’d called to check in with Laura only to have her not answer. And then not answer again. And even after he had showered, and tried to distract himself with mindless motel television, she’d still not answered.

So he’d left the motel, rushing past the exhaustion to get here as soon as possible. He knew that he was probably overreacting. Laura was fine. She’d get a good laugh out of his worry though, pat his cheek, and remind him that she was a big girl. He’d hear it as she didn’t need him like he needed her.

It wasn’t how she’d mean it, but he couldn’t help but hear it like that. Laura would know immediately of course, and box him on the ear for thinking like that.

We’re all we have. You and me against the world. she’d remind him.

Derek remembered that as he drove the familiar roads into town. It didn’t calm him like he’d wanted it to, but it helped distract him from all the memories associated with the town. He couldn’t think of other things if he was focused on Laura.

The hospital parking lot was almost full, but Derek found a spot and steeled himself before going inside. He knew Laura had stopped by to see their uncle. It was the only place he knew she had been, so it was the only place he could start at. She had probably gone to their old house, but Derek didn’t want to see the burned up place ever again if he could avoid it.

It wasn’t hard to smile at the receptionist and get directed to his uncle’s room. He could smell his sister, but it wasn’t strong. She hadn’t been there for a few days at least. Her scent was strongest in his uncle’s room and he shut the door, looking at his uncle for the first time since he’d left.

Derek had let Laura take care of Peter’s arrangements, too caught up in himself after the fire to think about anyone else. By the time he’d snapped back to a semi-functioning person Laura had already moved them to New York and any chance of seeing his uncle was long past.

He looked pathetic sitting in the wheelchair the nurses no doubt maneuvered him into that morning. It was probably to stop bed sores. Derek could smell the sickness on him, and it pained him to see his uncle like that. Peter had been carefree before the fire. He had been all the kids’ favorite, and he’d made all of them feel like they were his favorite.

Derek approached Peter, wincing as he saw the burns up close. His throat was dry, and he couldn’t speak. He didn’t know what he’d say if he could. It’s all my fault sounded stupid and pointless whispered into an empty room.

He swallowed, looking his uncle over. Derek couldn’t touch him. Peter was as good as dead.

Derek stepped back, remembering what he had come here for. He pulled out his cell phone, calling Laura’s phone. It didn’t even ring this time, just went straight to voicemail.

“Hey, this is Laura, you know what to do!”

“Laura, it’s Derek. I’m with uncle here in Beacon Hills. Still trying to get in contact with you.” He let out a breath. “If you’ve run off with some wolf I will kill you for worrying me.”

He hung up and took one last look at his uncle. He couldn’t form any words, but he knew this would be one of the last times he saw his uncle so he felt like he needed to do something. He was getting Laura out of whatever trouble she’d found herself in and taking them back to New York. He finally worked up the courage and put his hand on Peter’s shoulder, flinching as he saw his uncle not react at all.

“I miss you,” Derek forced out. It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but it was the truth. He missed his uncle. He missed his pack. He wanted it back, but he knew that wasn’t possible.

He left the room, ducking past nurses, doctors and other patients as he headed outside for the crisp December air. It stopped his eyes from watering, and he stuffed his hands in his pockets and headed towards the woods. That’s where Laura’s scent headed, and he needed to follow it if he wanted to find her.

He could hear people in the woods as he walked, a group of them, and Derek made sure to keep out of their way. They were on the other side of the woods so he couldn’t hear any specific chatter, but he heard the dogs barking and whining. A search team.

Derek picked up his pace, getting anxious as he got closer to Laura’s scent. He could tell already that something was wrong. Maybe she was hurt, trapped somewhere, and police were trying to find her. He didn’t know much that could trap his sister; she was strong and capable. Not much scared her.

She was his whole world.

He stopped next to a tree. She was right around him, and she had to be sick. She smelled like she was beginning to rot, and there was dried blood.

Derek didn’t want to look, and he shut his eyes because of it.

She was his whole world, and half her body was at his feet.

Derek leaned against the tree and threw up, tears rushing to his eyes even as he tried to stop it.

He hadn’t been prepared for this. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He couldn’t look at her because her eyes were still open, blankly staring.

Derek wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, even as he felt his body starting to give out. He thought he’d become stronger than this, but he was starting to shake as he let out weak sobs. It was an awful feeling. He didn’t have control in the worst possible way.

He dropped to the ground, finally looking at Laura. Whatever had happened she’d been ripped in half. Derek remembered horror stories his older cousins would tell him, about hunters using swords to kill them. This wasn’t the same, the cut too jagged, like an animal had done it. He covered his eyes with his hands, not caring that he was smearing dirt on his face.

What was he going to do?

***

School wasn’t that much more interesting even with his apparent non-magical related super hearing and super smelling. He had tested it throughout English class while they went over what was expected from them on their final. He could smell pretty much everything if he focused long enough. He knew Scott had packed himself a peanut butter and fluff sandwich on white bread for lunch, and to balance it out had included a few celery sticks. He knew Mitchell, who sat two seats down from him, hadn’t worn deodorant that morning. He could even smell people passing outside, and know they were coming before he even saw them.

And the hearing? That took a bit more, but he could focus in on so many conversations, ones even outside his range of smell. He couldn’t smell where Lydia was, but he could hear her chatting with whatever girl she’d decided was her lackey for that week. He could hear Coach Finstock’s freshmen Sex Ed talk. He could hear the secretaries giggling in the office while they made copies.

He didn’t, however, have any sense of his father. He knew the police station was a little over three miles from the school, and his house was about eight miles. So there were boundaries to these newfound powers.

By the time he got to Spanish class he’d managed to map out most of the school in his mind. He was getting a bit of sensory overload and he spent the rest of the period trying to drown out the unimportant parts.

His mind was like a hard drive, and he only kept the important bits on it.

He didn’t need to know what the cafeteria staff was talking about. He didn’t need to know about Matt from his photography class (and he was so glad that class was over at the end of the week) arguing with his parents about not taking his inhaler.

There were some people he couldn’t block out entirely though. He kept feeling himself stretching to try and sense his father in some way, no matter how much his mind told his senses that there was no way to reach him. He couldn’t shut out Scott, or Lydia, or Danny. Those three he didn’t mind knowing where they were at all points in time. Scott because he was his best friend, and Danny and Lydia because they were… them. His crushes. It made sense he wanted to know where they were.

Sure, their conversation during Latin class seemed to consist entirely of the movie Jackson had forced them to watch on Saturday, and how much Lydia thought Danny could do better than that dumbass Rob from two towns over, but it was still important information.

Wait. Did this make him a stalker?

He wasn’t sure he wanted to be a stalker. Well, if the senses had a cut off place where they’d no longer work he was pretty sure as long as he didn’t actively go and try to get into that space he would be good.

There wasn’t anyone else that was really popping out to him. He was sure Scott’s mom would be someone he’d latch onto, but aside from that, he didn’t exactly have a wide group of friends, or people he cared about.

By the end of Chemistry he had started a list titled “Weird Shit that DOES NOT equal lycanthropy” that worked more like an equation that didn’t equal werewolves, because seriously? That was just ridiculous.

Stiles looked over at Scott, who was doodling in his notebook and he stopped himself from chucking a paper ball at Scott’s head. He probably wouldn’t even notice it bouncing off. His mind focused back on the body, which he had been trying to ignore, but he couldn’t shake the image out of his mind. The eyes open wide and lifeless. Stiles hunched over his notebook.

The police hadn’t found her yet. He could go out there after school and use his totally-not-werewolf senses to re-find the body. He’d drag Scott. It would be an adventure.

He scribbled down a note telling Scott to skip practice so they could go find the body and become heroes, saving the day. When Harris wasn’t looking he covertly shot the note right at Scott’s ear and was pleased to see that his aim had also gotten a boost from the not-werewolf powers.

***

His great-grandmother had planted the first row of wolfsbane flowers sometime back in the 1800s. It had grown over the years with different members of the pack tending to the garden at any point in time. When Derek was young he had asked his Uncle Peter why they grew something that could kill them, and Peter had laughed and pulled him into his lap.

“There are many species of wolfsbane, and each one has a different purpose. The ones that we grow aren’t the same as the ones that hunters use. We use this species to honor our loved ones in death.”

His uncle had been the one to take care of the garden last, but in six years it had started to overrun the original space. Derek knew his uncle would have been appalled at how wild the garden had grown, but it made it easier to collect as much wolfsbane as he needed.

The tradition was to tie a rope of the plant around the neck of your dead; that was all that was needed to force the transformation, but his sister deserved more. She deserved protection in death, as well as honor.

Derek had the grave dug by noon, and he had her buried by one. Making the rope took longer, but he was pleased with how it looked after he had finished planting the rope, completely surrounding her grave. He made sure to plant one end at the head of her grave as a place marker.

When he was finished he felt at a complete loss. He’d tried to pick out the scent of what could have done this, but it had drizzled the night before, and with no reference he couldn’t begin to know where to look. He dusted off his jeans, feeling numb as he walked towards the house.

This wasn’t what he’d wanted. He was alone. An omega.

He fiddled with the inhaler he had picked up while he was carrying Laura’s body back to the house as he tried to think how he would get answers.

***

All in all it wasn’t a complete mess of a first day with powers-that-may-be-supernatural. If nothing else, he hadn’t gone completely insane during lunch when Jackson had knocked into him, sending Stiles’ soup spilling all over himself and some girl from his gym class. Both of them ended up with burns on their hands but by the time Mr. Harris had dragged them to the nurse, Stiles’ burns had been reduced to nothing but a red mark. Small victories all around! No one got murdered, and he didn’t get hurt. Except the girl, but on a scale of one to werewolf she registered at about a three. Besides, they bandaged her hands, and she’d mumbled to Stiles that she was fine when he’d asked just to be polite.

Now he just needed to grab Scott and they could go find the body before heading home for some nice long research into this whole possible-werewolf thing. Yeah, Stiles was pretty sure something was up, but research helped. Research was good. Research was his friend.

Scott didn’t even need to do anything, just be moral support. Stiles would be sure to tell him that in case he got cold feet at the prospect of intense research. He readied himself for the super inspiring speech he was going to give as Scott rounded the corner, rushing for his locker.

“Stiles, I can’t skip practice,” Scott said as he shoved his backpack into his locker. Stiles opened his mouth to protest, but Scott kept going. “Coach saw me and he reminded me that people who skip conditioning have a harder time making first line!” He was looking frantically through his locker for something as Danny passed them, giving them a friendly nod.

Stiles couldn’t help getting distracted for a moment as he gave Danny an awkward wave in return, before he turned his attention back to Scott. “But what about, you know, dead body in the woods? Is first line really more important than that?”

Scott blinked at Stiles, stopping his search. “I really want to be on first line.”

Stiles pressed his lips together, internally scolding himself for not getting into the pep talk right away. Now the moment was ruined and he couldn’t get back in the groove. Scott turned away, back to searching his locker. Stiles sighed. “Fine, fine. You go to practice and try to get on first line. I will be in the library while I wait for you, but I am coming to get you right after practice, and we are going. Got it?”

“Wait. You aren’t going to practice? You’re going to the library?” Scott stopped looking in his locker again to gaze at Stiles like a wounded puppy.

“Research. For the thing.” Stiles dropped his voice to a whisper as a group of people passed them.

“What thing?”

Stiles made a crazy gesture with his eyebrow which Scott did not seem to understand at all. He sighed. “Just forget it. I’ll be picking you up! Go, go.” He waved his fingers in a sign of dismissal.

Scott took that as his cue to slam his locker shut in frustration and jog off in the other direction.

Stiles went right for the mythology section and was upset to find it pitifully empty all things considered: Twilight was stuck in between The Ultimate Encyclopedia of Mythical Creatures and Interview with the Vampire. He let out a big sigh and kept looking. He grabbed all four of the encyclopedias they had, and the one werewolf lore specific book they had.

The books offered very little, all things considered. Nothing that didn’t seem like common sense. Full moon meant he would turn into a crazy monster, but another book said some werewolves were in control of themselves. Before he headed towards the computers he even took a quick reread of Prisoner of Azkaban, because if anyone knew their shit it would have to be JK.

It didn’t make him feel better because he was pretty sure that even if he was a werewolf, and yes that possibility was looking more and more likely, there was no way Scott would ever be disciplined enough to use magic to turn himself into an animal to run alongside him.

He closed the book in frustration and piled it on top of all the other material he had collected. Asides from the encyclopedias, he’d grabbed some fiction books as well. None of them had been all that interesting in answering his question of “Am I a werewolf?”

The hope that Google would be more helpful in answering that question was highly misplaced. He ended up link jumping, reading over much of the same lore he’d already read, but this time in between the fact were true life experiences. Stiles tried not to get too involved with those, since most of them were hosted on Angelfire and involved red font on black backgrounds.

He was mid-way through the wikipedia page about wolfsbane (and who knew there were so many species!) when he heard someone’s heartbeat pick up. He tried to ignore it, assuming that someone near him had just realized they were late, or failing, or going to fail. Finals were a stressful time and he’d felt a few other people freak out during lunch. This time, though, the heartbeat was insistent, and he couldn’t block it out. It was almost like it was Lydia or Danny or Scott-

Stiles jumped up like a shot, knocking back his chair. Scott, that was Scott’s heartbeat racing and as he narrowed in on it he could tell so much more. He could hear the commotion around Scott. It was the sound of practice. Coach Finstock was yelling at them to keep running, to pick up the pace. Jackson was joking with Danny, and Isaac was whispering to Scott, asking him if he was alright.

He heard Scott cough, the deep sound that told him Scott was having issues breathing, and had been for a little while. He grabbed his bag and took off from the library in a sprint, jumping over the turnstile because he didn’t have time. He heard a few people shouting after him but he just kept running.

He pushed through the back door in time to see Scott drop to his knees. Stiles was still 100 yards out at least but he could see that far out, like he was right there.

And then he was, pushing his way in between Isaac and Danny and Coach to get to Scott who was clutching at his sternum, coughing. Stiles distantly heard Coach asking what was wrong, and Danny was the one who answered, a lot calmer than Isaac, who was shaking, or Mark, one of their defenders who was so nervous he was starting to laugh. Stiles ripped open his bag looking frantically for the spare inhaler he carried for Scott.

“You’re an idiot,” Stiles muttered as he pulled it out. He stopped himself from going off until Scott had taken the inhaler from his hand. He knew it would take more than a few moments for the medicine to work, especially if Scott had been so bad that he collapsed. “Come on you idiot, you’re going to the bench.”

Coach Finstock was sputtering, going to the other side to help Stiles get Scott up. The circle that had formed around them moved, and no one said anything, not even Jackson. Stiles didn’t take his eyes off Scott though.

Scott coughed and leaned his head over. “Thought you were in the library?”

Stiles looked at Coach Finstock. He was staring straight ahead, eyes wide with worry. “Dude, you don’t even want to know. You’re so lucky.” He sat Scott down on the bench before sitting down next to him. Coach Finstock looked at the two of them.

“McCall! What happened?”

“Forgot,” Scott coughed, “to take my inhaler.”

“Well isn’t that just great. You’re lucky your buddy Bilinski decided to skip practice today so he could run to your rescue.” Stiles rubbed Scott’s back as he let out another cough. Coach Finstock didn’t even sound that angry, just worried.

“Yeah,” Scott coughed out.

“You’re both on the bench. McCall I don’t want you back on this field until I get a medical note.” He pointed a finger at Scott and then turned back to the guys crowded around behind him. He clapped his hands, barking out, “get back to your runs!” He paused. “Unless you feel like you’re gonna drop. Then take a break. But only then!”

He gave one last look to Scott and Stiles before walking further away to watch the team keep running.

Stiles leaned close to Scott, offering him water. “What the fuck, Scott. Why didn’t you take your inhaler?”

“I lost it in the woods I guess.”

Stiles groaned. “Really? When did you realize this?”

“Right before practice. I didn't think it would be that bad.”

Stiles resisted the urge to punch him. “If you weren’t dying I would hit you, I just want you to know.”

“You think I ruined my chance for first line?”

“I think it doesn’t matter, since you almost died.”

Scott coughed. It was deep and disgusting, and Stiles was surprised a lung didn’t come up with it. “I’m fine.” Stiles gave him a look. “Or I will be. So what did you mean I wouldn’t want to know?”

Stiles wrapped an arm around Scott’s shoulder, letting him rest again him, and continue to cough. “You really won’t believe me. But,” he dragged out the word, “I am eighty-five percent sure I was bitten by a werewolf last night.”

Scott snorted. “This is a good bedtime story, tell me more.”

Stiles shook him slightly, but not enough to push him off. “I can hear, smell and see things that I really shouldn’t be able to hear, smell or see. I heard your shitty Italian speech, and yes I am aware you take Italian when I’m taking Math and we’re on opposite sides of the building. I just heard it. And the things I can smell? It’s ridiculous. Lydia’s perfume? Jackson’s overspray of Axe? That was just the start. I knew you’d packed yourself a peanut butter and fluff sandwich in first period. I knew they had a last minute change from sweet potato fries to powder mix potatoes during Chemistry because I could smell it. And I saw you drop on the field from the back door as if I were right next to you.”

“You’re a super hero.”

Stiles lifted his hand and mimed shooting a web. “It’s ridiculously crazy Scott.”

“What are you gonna do about it?”

“What can I? I didn’t see what bit me. I just know I have these powers now.”

“Why do you think werewolf? Why not something less... malicious?”

Stiles let out a breath. “The bite looked like a wolf bite. But for all I know the thing that bit me is already on it’s way, didn’t even know it turned me. It might have been trying to kill me. So I guess, we’ll just play it by ear.”

Scott snorted. “Sounds like a regular Stiles plan.”

“Hey now, my plans are awesome.”

“Your plans are poorly thought through at best, and not thought through at all at worst.”

“Eh! My plans got me super awesome powers. I’m also pretty sure I have super speed; you should have seen how quick I got here!”

Scott laughed-coughed as he pushed himself off of Stiles’ chest. “Help me up. The team is going in.”

Stiles looked up as Jackson passed them without a second look. He sensed Lydia behind him, greeting Jackson with a soft kiss but refusing to do more because sweat. Stiles ignored any more of that though, trying to help Scott up.

“Here, let me help you.”

Stiles and Scott both looked up to see Danny holding his hand out to catch the other side of Scott.

“Thanks man,” Scott said, smiling.

Stiles rolled his eyes as Danny smiled back, but his heart still skipped a beat when their hands brushed against each other on Scott’s back. Danny’s non-reaction brought him back to earth though.

“You know you don’t need to come with me,” Stiles said, stopping for the third time as they hiked through the woods.

Scott had his hands on his knees and he was taking deep breaths. “No. I’m not abandoning you to a possible fate of your sire coming to claim you for himself.”

Stiles snorted. “Pretty sure sire is vampire exclusive.”

“Oh? Then what do you call them?” Scott asked, standing up fully and looking around in the waning light.

Stiles was quiet as he thought about it. “I don’t know. Probably like, pack leader or big daddy.”

“Or mommy.”

Stiles’ nose scrunched up as he thought about it. “That’s a little creepy.”

“You’re a little creepy.”

“Your face is a little creepy.”

Scott opened his mouth but then just shook his head laughing. “Come on, let’s go find your body.”

“Yeah, and then maybe we’ll use my super scent to find your inhaler.” Scott gave him a dirty look as they continued towards where Stiles remembered the body being.

He could smell what he assumed was the stench of slowly rotting flesh, and he followed that. He held up his arm in a sign to stop as the scent started to settle and Scott looked around.

“I don’t see anything Stiles.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes, looking around. “I think this is where it was. Or at least, this is where the smell is the strongest.”

Scott snorted but he sobered up quickly when Stiles didn’t react. “You think you could track where it could have been moved to?”

Stiles tried to take a deep breath, but the cool, dry, winter air wasn’t forgiving on his nostrils and he just ended up sneezing. “Nah, I can’t tell where it goes. I’ve only been doing this for like eight hours, Scott. It’s a learning curve.”

Whatever Scott was about to say was cut off by his eyes widening as he looked off to the side. Stiles turned to see a man standing there, looking menacing in a leather jacket, and he jumped a little because Stiles hadn’t smelled the man approach. He still couldn’t smell him actually. Stiles could see the scowl on his face though, even as he trampled over leaves and branches to get closer to them.

“You two can’t be here.” Stiles blinked. That wasn’t the voice he was expecting out of the gruff looking man. “This is private property.”

Stiles looked around, trying to remember what was possibly around here that could count as private property. The woods were part of the nature preserve, which fed into a few smaller houses, but most of those were on the other side of the wood. The only house that was on this side was the old burned out Hale house.

Stiles head shot up and his eyes widened as he realized who this was, or at least who he thought he was. The man - no, Stiles was almost positive that was Derek Hale all grown up - was glaring Scott into submission while he stuttered out an explanation about his lost inhaler.

Derek snorted out a breath and threw the inhaler at Scott’s chest. He fumbled to catch it as Derek turned around, storming off.

The wind shifted and Stiles got his first scent of Derek. It was woodsy, familiar in a way Stiles couldn’t describe. He didn’t smell like anyone else, and it wasn’t because he was fresh from out of town (Stiles could tell that he had some of the desert around him, like he had just gone through Nevada). It was like he wasn’t all human.

“Wait!” Stiles said and he took off after Derek, grabbing him by his shoulder before he could stop himself.

He found himself slammed against a tree for his effort. Derek’s face was still emotionless and Stiles heard Scott scrambling to get to them to break them apart.

“This isn’t private property anymore. Not sure if you realized, Derek, but no one’s paid the taxes on the house since you and your sister left so technically it’s owned by the state now-“ he got cut off by Derek’s forearm pressing against his neck.

Derek growled softly, even as Scott tried to push his hand in between their bodies to pull them apart. Stiles growled back, and even when it surprised him he tried not to show it because Derek was stepping back just a little, and Scott had pulled away entirely.

“Stiles,” Scott whispered.

“That’s right,” Stiles said, struggling against Derek’s hold. “When you attacked me last night the bite didn’t kill me.”

Derek blinked, his face morphing into pure confusion. “I didn’t bite you.”

“Oh so you just happen to be back the day after I got bit by a werewolf?”

“I-“ Derek cut himself off. “I can’t turn you.”

“Likely story.” Stiles struggled some more until Derek let him go. He glared as Derek shuffled his feet, obviously trying to put words together.

“Bites don’t work like that. Turning doesn’t work like that. I’m just a beta.”

“Wait, we’re just gonna skip over the whole werewolves are real part?” Scott said, giving the time-out sign with his hands.

Stiles and Derek turned to him, before looking back at each other.

“Are they real?” Stiles asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Derek crossed his arms in return, glaring. “You tell me.”

“I don’t know! I’m just guessing based on the facts and trust me, the facts are pretty fucked up! All I know is I was attacked by something last night, and there was a bite, and now there’s no bite, and I suddenly am a super hero!”

Derek opened his mouth, and then closed it. He took a deep breath through his nose before he answered. “We exist. And the only time a human can be turned is when an alpha bites them.”

“Like the alpha of a pack?”

Derek nodded. “They’re different from normal wolves, betas. Only they have the power to turn a human. So no, I didn’t bite you.”

“Do you know who did?” Scott asked.

“No. I don’t. I just got here this morning. I didn’t even know someone had been bitten until I saw you.”

“Then what? Were you just, stalking out the old haunt? Following this alpha? Or is it just all coincidence?” Stiles asked, relaxing just a bit. Derek didn’t answer and Stiles sighed. “I just want answers, and you are my only answer-giver.”

Derek looked at him for a second and then at Scott. “Not here, and your friend shouldn’t come with us.”

“Hey!” Scott and Stiles said at the same time.

“I said shouldn’t, not that he couldn’t. His asthma is still acting up, and we’re in for a walk. And I’m not slowing down for him.” Derek turned, walking away.

Stiles looked at Scott. “I’m not letting you follow him alone,” Scott said, grabbing Stiles’ shoulder as he tried to follow him.

“Why?” Scott made a few soundless gestures which involved finger-fangs and him making clawing motions. Stiles sighed. “Listen I know Derek- okay maybe not know know, but I know of him,” he corrected himself when Scott just looked at him disbelievingly. “His family used to live here in Beacon Hills until there was a fire. It killed everyone in his family except for him and his sister.” Stiles looked off to where Derek was still walking away. He wasn’t slowing his pace and at this rate Stiles would need to run to catch up.

“So? More reason for him to be off his rocker.” Scott shook him so Stiles was looking back at him. “Stiles!”

“Scott, don’t you have work?”

Scott looked at him disbelievingly. “You’re ditching me?”

“No. It’s not that but Scott, I need answers. Maybe it will be easier to get answers with you not there being all accusing in the background.” He shrugged, trying to look non-challenging. He could barely make Derek out further away in the woods and he was itching to chase after him. “And if you are right, and he’s going to hurt me, I don’t want you to get involved with that. You’re a human and I’m no longer just that.” He looked at Scott, turning on the puppy dog eyes. “Go back to my car, take it to work, and be safe. I’ll meet up with you after I get done with Derek.”

Scott opened and closed his mouth. “I can’t believe you,” he said as he held out his hand for Stiles’ keys. “I hope he kills you and hides the body.”

Stiles grinned. “Guess we’ll put my awesome new werewolf powers to the test.” He turned to run after Derek and then stopped, looking back at Scott. “I wasn’t lying. If it does come down to a fight I wouldn’t want you there.”

“Stop seeming like a nice person, I know what you really are,” Scott grunted, turning and walking away dejectedly.

Stiles felt guilty for a moment and then turned, focusing his senses to sniff out Derek. He’d gotten decently far and as Stiles ran to catch up with him he found he couldn’t go as fast as he had running across the flat floor in the school. Running werewolf speed over the uneven ground of the woods just meant the bumps and dips came up that much faster. He almost tripped one too many times over branches he didn’t sense coming towards him before it was too late, and it hurt every time he fell. He didn’t slow down until he was side by side with Derek though.

He wasn’t even panting. “Name’s Stiles by the way. Stiles Stilinski. Just in case you were curious.”

Derek grunted, hands shoved into his pocket. Stiles was about to keep talking when Derek spoke up. “Your dad was one of the cops who talked to me at the station.”

“Yeah.”

“Just because you read a case file doesn’t mean you know me though.”

Stiles shrugged, putting his own hands in his pockets. “I was just saying that to get Scott to go away. He doesn’t exactly trust you.” Derek snorted. “So, how long have you been a werewolf?”

“I was born one.”

“Born one! Wow, so like, you had a mommy werewolf, and a daddy werewolf and together they made a baby werewolf, that makes sense. So if I were to have kids, it would pass on?”

“Over this way,” Derek said, nodding towards the clearing up ahead. Stiles could see the burnt out Hale house up ahead, and the scent of dead body was getting stronger. He’d been trying to ignore it, but it was concentrated by the house. Derek followed his gaze to the side of the house where there was upturned earth and he watched him, like he was waiting for him to say something.

Stiles pointed. “That’s the body. Why is the body buried there?” His eyes snapped to Derek’s hands, and now that he was focusing he could see dirt under Derek’s nails, and the healing of faint burns on his hands. “What did you do?” He stepped away as Derek held up his hands.

“I want to explain.”

“Get to it then.”

Derek kept his hands up. “My sister came here before me.” Stiles eyes widened as he looked back at the fresh grave. “She was here for other reasons, but last week she’d said she’d caught wind of something off here. That’s when I started driving over here.”

“The alpha that bit me?”

“I don’t know.” Derek looked down. “I hadn’t talked to her since Monday when I was passing through Chicago. And when I got here this morning I found her.”

Stiles turned back to him. “You need to tell the cops.”

“To tell them what? That some werewolf killed my sister? Stiles, she was ripped apart. It wouldn’t lead to anything.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “It looks like an animal attack. I can almost guarantee there will be fur on her body as well. They’d assume it was a mountain lion, or a coyote, or something, and call it closed. This way I could bury her with a bit of respect and not have to worry about drawing attention to myself.”

“But the cops are looking for a killer. They are running themselves ragged trying to find out who did it.”

“They have her legs. There will be enough evidence there to make them think it’s an animal attack. By the end of the week they will move on. Your dad won’t be overworked for long.”

Stiles balked. “That’s not the point. You can’t just hide a body. Society doesn’t work like that!”

Derek didn’t say anything for a long moment. Stiles was sure that he was just going to leave, conversation over and done with and any chances of more information gone before it even started.

“First rule. As much as we try to fit in with society, sometimes we have to follow our own rules to survive unnoticed.”

“What’s the second rule? Don't talk about werewolf club?” Stiles said before he could stop himself.

“Yes,” Derek said straight-faced. “Your friend knows. That’s the only person who can know. I’ll try to help you as much as possible, but you need to meet me halfway.”

“So what, you’re going to be my Mister Miyagi?”

“Do you only talk in pop culture references?”

“It’s a self defense mechanism to stop the panic attack that’s coming from helping hide a dead body!” He tried not to sound like he wasn’t freaking out, but from Derek’s look he wasn’t doing a good job. “How can you stand the smell? Or are you just accepting it as part of your guilt? Don’t tell me you’re actually planning on staying here. You have a hotel right?” Derek didn’t answer and Stiles threw his hands up. “Alright I don’t want to be picky and come in and start giving you lectures on your life, but there is no way you can function like a semi-sane human-wolf-being camping in the burnt out shell of your old house, which still has a few remains it in, might I-“ he was cut off by Derek’s growl. Stiles had gotten off on a tangent again.

“I know.” Derek’s fists were curled and he was breathing heavily. “This isn’t easy for me.”

Stiles took a deep breath. When he spoke his voice was quieter. He knew he’d fucked up. “I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

Derek looked at him for a moment, like he could tell if he was lying. “I’m not planning on being here for long. I wasn’t planning on it.”

“I’m sure you have a life back wherever you and Laura were living. A pack you two were part of?”

“We were the pack. Laura hadn’t gotten around to expanding us just yet.” He tipped his head back in thought.

“Laura was your alpha?”

“She’s older, so she got the power after. We always knew it would be like that.” He shrugged and then looked at Stiles. “Technically, if your alpha killed my alpha, that means we’re pack.”

“Just like that?”

“For the wolf inside us yes. For the human no. That’s where we differ from normal wolves. We have the same drive for pack and family, but our human side lets us rationalize it out a bit more. You don’t want your alpha to be someone you hate, but sometimes it’s the only place you can go.”

“So I’m stuck with who turned me? Even if they don’t know I exist?”

“They’ll know you exist. The wolf inside them will tell them you’re here.”

“Will they come for me?”

“Eventually.”

“On the full moon?”

Derek shrugged. “It’s not an exact science. I don’t. I don’t have all the answers. I’m not this encyclopedia of werewolf knowledge.”

“Even though you’ve been one your whole life?”

“I can teach you to control yourself on the full moon, and outside of the full moon. The big picture things I can answer and help you with. I can help you survive.”

“You can help us survive.” Stiles gave him a challenging look.

“Yes.”

“You need me as much as I need you, don’t you?”

“Werewolves are stronger in packs,” Derek said simply.

“And we’re stronger with an alpha. Even if you don’t want this alpha as yours.”

Derek looked back to the grave. “As long as we’re together we can get by until we figure out what to do about your alpha.”

“What if I don’t want him as my alpha?” Stiles shrugged at Derek’s look of disbelief. “He killed your sister. He attacked me, tried to kill me for all I know. I could be a fluke. A loose end just waiting to get cut. I want to pick who I answer to.”

“It’ll be harder for you to resist him than it is for me. The drive to be accepted by him will be overwhelming.”

“Then you’ll teach me control. We’ll help each other.” Stiles bit his lip. “My instincts are already reaching out for my friends. I guess I see them as pack, and I know myself - I would never put them in danger.”

Derek nodded and took a step closer to Stiles, awkwardly reaching out and putting his hand on his shoulder. “We’re brothers now, Stiles. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Stiles snorted. “Empty promises there.”

Derek shook his shoulder, digging his fingers into his shoulder blade. “If I can help it,” he amended, “you just need to trust me, that’s all I ask. I’ll make this as easy and as safe as possible.”

Stiles could see how serious Derek looked and he swallowed, nodding. He stood up to his full height, looking Derek in the eye. “The whole trust thing will take awhile cause I’m sure you’re just as full of issues as I am, but. Yes.” He gripped Derek’s forearm, the one that was still holding his shoulder, and squeezed.

Derek’s face didn’t change. He didn’t break into a smile, or make any declarations of friendship, but Stiles could feel him relax. “Come on inside. We can keep talking in there.”

Stiles’ face scrunched up as Derek pulled away, walking up towards the house. He followed at a slower pace, eyes darting towards Laura’s grave one last time. “I’m serious about this whole you-can’t-live-here thing. If only for my sanity. I don’t want to do secret werewolf training on condemned property. For all I know ghosts could be haunting here.”

“There’s no such things as ghosts Stiles,” Derek said pushing open the door.

“Oh, I see. Ghosts are way too ridiculous you’re right, but werewolves? Totally normal.”

Derek didn’t bother responding. It didn’t matter to Stiles; he just started to hum under his breath as he followed Derek into what looked like a burnt out dining room.

“Let’s get down to business! To become a werewolf!”

“There will be no singing allowed in werewolf school,” Derek growled, but Stiles counted it as a victory that he even made a joke.

Chapter 2