This is my first fic, so don't hate me! Thanks to my beta Kristina (tumblr url: lokigodofass) for checking over this and making sure I wasn't completely crap at this type of stuff. Reviews/follows/favorites are welcome! (Also, I am British. I tried to Americanize this story so if you see any wrong spellings they're probably the British way so please forgive me) I aim to publish a chapter every week, maybe two a week dependent on how my life is/whether I can be bothered!

Responses are also very welcome as it will encourage me to write more, thanks!

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters of Teen Wolf, or the show itself (Although if I did, there'd be Sterek every other scene)

This doesn't really follow the plotline of the show as it stands. Jackson is human and Lydia isn't crazy, yet Allison knows about werewolves, and Derek is an alpha and such.

So, enjoy!



"Please Stiles!"

"No! I'm fed up of covering for you!"

"Just this once, I swear I will never ask again."

"You said that the last time," Stiles heaved a sigh and got up from Scott's bed, straightening his jeans and grabbing his keys from the desk, "and look where it got me, your mom found out and my dad found out and I wasn't allowed out for a week."

"Like you go out anywhere other than with me," Scott smiled a goofy smile, and Stiles glared at him.

"That is beside the point. I am not covering for you so you can go and do whatever you do with Allison in the woods, Scott."

Stiles fiddled with his keys and took a step forward towards the bedroom door and turned back, looking at his friend who had brought out the puppy eyes.

"You know that's kind of ironic, you with your puppy eyes," he said, rolling his own, "you being a werewolf and all that. Still not going to work though."

"I'll do your homework for a week?" Scott asked almost pleadingly, and Stiles laughed, throwing his head back.

"YOU do my homework?" he remarked, pointing to Scott, "you're kidding me right? I get straight A's."

"Please Stiles? I know you do a lot for the pack, myself included but I haven't seen Allison in almost three days and it's killing me," Scott moaned, sitting down on the chair in the corner of his room and (rather dramatically, Stiles noticed) putting his face in his hands with an exasperated sigh, "we can't text or email because her stupid dad monitors everything, and my mom still thinks we broke up..."

"FINE! Fine, anything to get you to stop gushing. If your mom calls, you're with me and my house. Dad's working late at the station anyway and he probably will be for the next few days, something about a dead body just outside of tow..." He was interrupted rather rudely by Scott who piped up and stared at Stiles intently.

"A new murder? You don't think..." Scott started but Stiles held up a hand to cut him short.

"Nah, nothing supernatural I don't think. This is just outside of town; they're just roping in local sheriffs to help solve it."

Scott raised an eyebrow. "You sure?" He asked, wary.

"Yes, don't get all up in a fuss about a murder that has nothing to do with you, Scott. Wow sometimes you really need to keep back on the werewolf stuff and be a normal guy for a change, jeez. Which is why..." He sighed, knowing he'd regret his next few words, "I guess I'll help you tomorrow," he looked at Scott, who beamed at his best friend.

"Thank you so much Stiles, you won't regret it!" He grinned, pulling his best friend in for a bone crushing hug.

"Yeah, yeah whatever, save all this intimacy crap for Allison, I don't want a preview thank you very much," Stiles replied, rolling his eyes, and pulling away from the teen wolf, "I need to get home anyway, it's late." He looked at his watch, "Wow actually, really late. What have we been doing for the past three hours? Oh that's right, wasting my time," Stiles announced to Scott, whose grin was slowly replaced by a scowl.

"Like you'd be doing anything productive back at your place!" Scott replied.

"Ouch, is it 'let's insult Stiles for being a procrastinator' day?" He remarked, a pretend look of hurt on his face as he furrowed his eyebrows.

"Go home."

Stiles waved goodbye and walked out to his jeep and climbed in. He closed the door and rested his head on the seat. Well that's his plan for tomorrow then, staying indoors just in case a parent calls so his best friend could see his girlfriend. He figured he should be catching up on some homework anyway, so he thought to himself that he really shouldn't moan...but was that all his life was now? Some shitty sidekick to his best friend? A scape goat for when werewolves needed to see their other halves? Why couldn't he be the Batman for once?

Did werewolves even go into heat? That was definitely something he'd be researching tomorrow, via internet of course, there was no way on this earth he was going to ask Scott or Derek.

He revved up the engine to his jeep and it gave its usual small splutter before starting, and he took one last look at Scott's house before he pulled away and drove off into the night.

"Oh man, you have got to be kidding me."

Stiles hammered his fists against the steering wheel of his jeep violently as the engine started to splutter. "You can't die on me now; we're in the middle of fucking nowhere." With a last choking gasp, the jeep completely gave out and Stiles pulled it to the side of the road before it stopped completely.

He exhaled and leaned back in his seat. It was eleven o'clock at night for Christ's sake; he didn't need this shit now. He pulled out his phone from his jeans pocket and looked at the screen, cursing aloud at his lack of signal. "Just like a fucking horror movie," Stiles laughed to himself, and pulled on the handle to open the jeep door.

He wandered around for five minutes on the side of the road, hoping for a car to flag down, or at least some bars on his phone to call his dad. He sighed after no luck with either, and pulled the zip up on his jacket to create extra warmth. He strolled back to the jeep to take a look under the bonnet so he could at least pretend to himself that he knew what to do.

A rustle of bushes came from his left, and Stiles whipped his head round to take a look between the trees. He saw nothing, only the shadows of the trees made by the moon's light. "It really is like a horror movie," he whispered to himself and smirked. He walked back over to his jeep and popped the bonnet, and in a desperate attempt to see the damage, he stuck his head in and had a look around, fully knowing he had no idea what he was doing.

Suddenly, the whole jeep shook. The bonnet slammed down onto him as he recoiled back in pain, hand reaching up to inspect the soon-to-be-huge lump on the back of his head. He looked up to the top of the jeep and let out a sigh.

Oh great, he thought to himself, a fucking werewolf.

It took him precisely a second to gather his thoughts and figure out that a) this was not Scott or Derek, and b) he should be scared. Very scared.

A cold and pale hand twisted around his neck revealing a second werewolf as Stiles cried out in pain as his airflow was restricted, his eyes never leaving the amber ones of werewolf #1.

"Not even a 'hello' or a 'can I buy you a drink' before you get all touchy feely, huh?" he said, swivelling his head slightly to address werewolf #2, his voice slow, and dripping with sarcasm. When no response emerged, he sighed dramatically and raised his eyebrows.

"What do you want, huh? As you can see I am having enough trouble as it is without a few werewolves getting in my way." He raised his arms and gestured towards his jeep, now complete with a dent in the top from where the first werewolf landed. He groaned inwardly. Fantastic he thought, that's another couple hundred bucks to get that fixed.

"We want Hale," werewolf #1 demanded clearly and Stiles' eyes grew wider upon hearing the familiar name.

Stiles looked #1 up and down. He looked about six foot tall, and aside from the obvious regular werewolf features, he was built like a house.

"I have no idea who you are talking about," Stiles replied, keeping calm and lying through his teeth. His neck was starting to ache from being so restricted, and in order to get out of it, he needed to A) lie, B) run away, or C) die.

And he really hoped it didn't have to come to plan C.

"Liar!" Werewolf #2 shouted in his ear and Stiles winced. "We can smell him all over your jeep."

Well that was plan A out of the question. Fucking Hale and his inability to not get shot Stiles thought to himself, remembering the damn leather jacket Derek forgot to pick up that was still in the back. He made a mental note to bleach every corner of his jeep next time a werewolf hitches a ride.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Stiles repeated, unusually calm. He could see the werewolves didn't believe him, so he had to think of another plan quick. Before he died. And oh man he did not want to die.

Stiles, however lazy he may be at schoolwork, was always a man of action when it came to supernatural shit like this. He'd had plenty of practice, considering his best friend being a werewolf and all.

Time to act fast.

"You're thinking of going after the alpha?" he almost grinned, "bit of a dick move, don't you think?"

Werewolf #1's eyes widened and he grew still.

"Derek is an alpha?" Werewolf #2 responded, and tightened his grip on Stiles' neck, causing him to cry out in pain.

"Yes," came the teen's reply with a huff of breath, twist slightly in a feeble attempt to feel less pain and discomfort with no such luck, "and no need to be so tight dude, this is only a first date!"

His elbow collided with the werewolf's ribs as hard as it could, sending a shot of pain up his arm and we winced. Flesh collided with bone, and before the werewolf could tolerate a growl, the grip slackened leaving Stiles enough room to bend his body to the side and escape, running for the woods as fast as he could.

Plan B it was then.

He knew he couldn't outrun werewolves. He knew he was probably going to die tonight, but hey, what's the fun in dying without annoying a few of them first?

If he lived, he was going to kill Derek for this. He had no idea how, but he was going to do it. A few months ago he was just a normal teenager with a normal life and a normal best friend, but oh no. Now everything was different. Now he had to change his life, and keep secrets from his dad to accommodate every wolf in this town.

He grimaced at the pain in his elbow. Damn werewolves and their strength.

He ran deeper into the woods, tripping over roots and slamming into stray branches. Growls from behind him told him they were getting closer.

Stiles tripped, and something jabbed into his left leg, hard. He cried out with pain as his hands flew out in front of him, slamming solid into the damp ground as he fell flat on his face. He lay there for a millisecond, enjoying the quiet, and the slight breeze rustling the trees before he knew he'd have to get back up and run, ignoring the pain that was exploding from just about everywhere on his body. Sweat dripped into his eyes as he moved himself to get back up and make a run for it frantic not to look behind him.

A gunshot.

A terrifying howl from a wolf.

A pair of strong arms lifted him and pulled him behind a tree, a hand snaking around his mouth and blocking his speech.

This is it, he thought, this is when I die.

"Stop whimpering," a calm voice whispered from behind him and Stiles turned around to face the familiar voice.

The sight of Derek's face sent a huge wave of relief wash over himself and he almost sobbed with joy, completely forgetting the earlier promise to himself to kill this wolf. Derek had often wanted to kill him, he knew that, but obviously not tonight. He was safe...ish... for now in the arms of the alpha.

The two wolves emerged into the clearing, one carrying the other in its arms with a pained expression etched onto his face. Werewolf #2 looked as if he had been shot, a purple like smoke wisped from a wound in his upper right arm accompanied by his white shirt drenched in dark red blood.

Stiles knew what that was, and didn't batter an eyelid when he heard Derek inhale sharply from behind him. It was a bullet like the one that Derek had been shot with that nearly killed him. A wolfsbane bullet. Which must mean...

"Looks like we've got ourselves a couple of werewolves!" a voice almost sang from behind a gathering of trees.

Chris Argent emerged from seemingly nowhere, gun slung over his shoulder, followed by three burly men. The moonlight bounced off just one side of Chris' face, making him seem that much more startling. He wasn't just Allison's dad, he was a hunter. And a pretty nasty one at that.

"Sons are trained to be soldiers; daughters are trained to be leaders."

He remembered the daunting phrase Allison had once told him, and the way Chris was stood, he had trained to be a soldier all right. The gun didn't exactly give him an innocent look either.

Werewolf #1 without a second thought dropped the other and took off at full speed heading west, running as fast as he could leaving his whining companion behind, bleeding out on the floor and in clear pain.

Chris Argent held up his right hand. "Leave it," he said to the shortest of the three men who had reached for his rifle, "he'll be back. They always return."

Stiles watched from behind the tree. He could feel Derek's muscles tense on his back, preparing himself in case of an attack.

Chris walked over to the werewolf and looked down at him with fury. "An omega werewolf, huh? Where did your friend go?" He smashed his boot down onto the werewolf's wound and it cried out in pain, shifting from both anger and fear.

"Now now, no need to shift, it's not like you're going to be alive for very much longer," Chris remarked, smiling a cruel smile that accentuated the wrinkles upon his forehead.

"Fuck you," the werewolf spat and twisted, his arm free of the boot, but he writhed in pain at the sudden movement and his face contorted into a grimace.

"Take him," Chris gestured towards the weak werewolf, looking over his shoulder at the fellow hunters, "no need to kill him now, he'll be dead soon anyway. I give it 48 hours."

The three men picked up the dying werewolf and carried him out of the clearing, Chris following closely behind, a sick grin plastered on his face.

Stiles and Derek stayed silent for a minute, and Stiles finally let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. They both breathed in unison just for a minute, to calm down, but to also take in what had just happened.

What had just happened? First Stiles was being chased by werewolves, next they were getting killed? This fucking town.

He felt the werewolf's hand leave his mouth, yet he said nothing. He felt faint and dizzy, his head was pounding and his left leg was throbbing.

"You're bleeding," Derek whispered through his teeth, looking down at the wound. Stiles followed his eyes and noticed a small branch that had clawed into his leg had ripped through his flesh just underneath his knee, leaving a four inch deep gash that was now gushing blood.

The sinister crimson liquid made Stiles' stomach turn and he felt sick. "Huh," was all he could muster from his mouth, followed by a strangled sound that felt as if his throat was about to combust.

He abruptly began to feel extremely drained. The world span as he closed his eyes and darkness washed over him, tiny spots of, stars filled his vision.

Then immediately everything was black. He felt himself slump against a mud-drenched Derek, his head slamming into Derek's chest as he sensed arms clinging to him tight and pulling him into a fireman's hold over the wolf's shoulder, but Stiles said nothing.

If this is death, he thought, it isn't half bad.

His mind went as blank as his vision and he gave into the darkness completely.

So there it is! First chapter. Please review/follow/favourite or whatever you want to do, it'll probably encourage me to write more. You know how it is. Thanking you kindly.