Today was the day. Today was the day―the day he's been waiting for since he learned how to tell between they're, their, and there. He'd be anticipating this day for years, training for this day both mentally and physically, getting on everyone's good side so that the promise of The Day would be smooth sailing. And it has. His good behavior, excellent grades, remarkable show in combat had earned him The Day. So when he had gotten the confirmation the day before, he was beyond excited―to excited to sleep apparently as he laid in bed and stared up at the ceiling with a big, stupid grin on his face.
He was ready.
He was so, so ready.
"Happy Birthday, Stiles!" Melissa cheered as she walked into his room, chocolate cake lit up with several candles in her hands. Several other hunters were in tow behind her; including his two friends Scott and Allison. With a smile, Stiles climbed off of his bed and allowed the group to approach them as they bursted into song, clapping along the way. A little flustered―he didn't expect for his birthday to be a some what big deal―Stiles smiled more and leaned forward to blow out his candles.
"Okay, what did you wish for?" Allison pestered as she hopped to his side. She was smiling so wide that her cute dimples were showing.
Stiles tutted a little and wagged his finger. "Now now, Ali. If I say my wish, it won't come true."
The huntress pouted a little. "Oh, don't be so tacky, Stiles. You don't honestly believe in that crap, do you?" She grumbled. Scott laughed a little as he joined her side, sliding his arm around her waist.
"You don't need to tell us if you don't want to, Stiles. It's not that big of a deal. It's your wish and you're entitled to it." He assured. Allison squinted her eyes at him in return. "Besides, I'm pretty sure we all know what his wish was anyways. Is it about tonight?"
"Hell yeah." Stiles boasted with a wide grin. "I just have to wait for further instructions."
"And you will get your further instructions, my child." A voice joined in. Stiles looked up and immediately straightened at the sight of Gerard walking in, the aura of authority and order following him as he did so. Gerard is the leader of the Argents, the biggest and most influential hunting group known. Stiles' hunting group (the Sealgairs; which is Scottish Gaelic for hunter) is basically the biggest brotherhood to the Argents, hence why both hunting families are joined together in one big institute.
"I see you've grown eager for this day." Gerard observed, crinkly skin lifting a little as he smirked a bit. "I like your enthusiasm. We could use your energy out on the field."
"So I will be able to do on my first hunt today?" Stiles asked eagerly.
Gerard hummed a little before he lifted his hand, a woman with long blonde hair approaching him with a long, narrow gift box; Kate Argent. "I have given you a gift, Stiles. I hope you like it." With a small bow of his head, Stiles tore open the wrap and lifted the lid. Even his friends gasped at the sight of a high-tech looking bow, complete with an entire set of other equipment with it.
"Whoa.. what―what is it?" Stiles gaped as he set the box down to carefully pull the bow out of it.
"Well, I had asked around to find out your preference in combat. Everyone said you've been very mighty with the bow and arrow, much like Allison." Gerard began as he stepped closer. Stiles and Allison shared small smiles. "This bow is the highest level of bow you could ever be rewarded in the Argent family. We call it the Predator. It has an auto-loading and detachable box magazine and can easily equip a variety of compound arrows. It can be folded so you can easily hide it in your back-pack and be discreet with it. Now, the arrows--some of them have been custom-made. You have the basic steel arrows, an electro-arrow which will electrocute your enemy upon hitting them, the famous flash bomb arrow that Allison specializes in, and then there's these ones." Gerard stepped forward and held up a single black arrow with a silver arrowhead. "This one is obvious; it's silver. While your ordinary arrow is just plain metal, this silver one had a jaw-like webs along the blades of it; making it harder to pull out but when they do, it makes the wound bigger. The second one is also a silver arrow but it is attached with an infusion of wolfsbane. With either arrows, you could also cover it with mountain ash or mistletoe, whichever fits your choosing. They're pretty much endless designing traits you could equip with your arrows. Also, you have a variety of attachments for the bow as well. Laser sight, sniper scope, tech scope which is a heat-seaking scope, and the suppressor to help muffle the sound of your arrows. I trust that the bow will be in good hands?"
"Y-Yes, of course!" Stiles looked up, eyes huge and smile big. "This is so awesome! Thank you so much, sir!"
"He's really good with the bow and arrow." Allison complimented. "With my advice and special training, he's pretty much on the same level as me - if not, better."
Gerard seemed pleased. "That is good to hear. Stiles, your instructions are to travel with Allison and Scott later tonight. The time of gathering will be at dusk, so get ready at least 30 minutes before and go with them to the preserve." He instructed. Stiles nodded eagerly and watched him leave before he spun around to show off his new weapon to his friends with his mouth agape.
"You're going to rock tonight." Scott avowed. "You are so ready for this."
"Not to be cliche, my friend, but," Stiles looked up and smirked. "I was born ready for this."
However, he was not ready for this.
The feral alpha and its pack were a lot faster, a lot stronger than any of them had anticipated―so much so that they were even ordered to only have Allison, Scott, and Stiles go by themselves. Originally, the feral alpha only had 2 other pack members. The amount of pack members had doubled over the hours. While Stiles liked to believe that he was ready for this, ready to kill an alpha that had killed many other innocent people―he wasn't ready at the same time.
"Scott, we need a new plan." Stiles muttered into his earpiece. "This one's not gonna work. The alpha got more pack members and it's made him stronger and faster. I'm almost out of arrows. I managed to take down one."
There was a pained howl the next second before Allison chirped into the intercom. "I took down another one." She breathed. "But Stiles is right, Scott. I've only got a few arrows left. Should we call for back-up?"
"No!" Stiles barked. "No―we can't call for backup. It'll make us look weak, like we can't handle a feral alpha and it's remaining pack members!"
"But we honestly can't, Stiles. We underestimated the circumstances today." Scott sighed.
"Don't ruin this for me, Scott, please." Stiles begged softly. "This is my one chance, okay? If I do well today then it's 100% guaranteed that I'll be put on other hunts! If we fail, I won't be able to join another hunt until the year is over! That's months away!"
Allison sighed quietly. "Alright... Alright, we got this, okay? We can figure this out. We can figure out - we always figure it out." She encouraged. "First... Stiles, do you spot the feral alpha?"
Stiles pushed a button so that his attachment switched to the tech scope and he looked around the area. "No, I don't. I do see one of his pack members. Hang on." Stiles reached and grabbed a silver arrow and aimed it at the feral wolf charged angrily at him. Stiles took a second to steady his aim before he shot the arrow. The wolf staggered, eyes wide as the arrow lodged itself in the middle of its forehead, before it grudgingly collapsed to the ground. "Down and out."
"Okay, so that makes 3 of its pack members down." Scott hummed softly. "Which leaves the feral alpha and one more pack member, correct?"
There was a second of silence before Allison spoke. "Make that just the alpha." She grunted, the sound of something slicing cutting (pun intended) into the background as she spoke. "I ran out of arrows but I had my silver dagger with me."
"Stiles, what's your location?" Scott asked.
"I've climbed a tree." Stiles shifted on the branch and grabbed something in his pocket; a small, beacon-like device with two different buttons on it. He pressed one button and Stiles could hear the beeping through their intercoms; it was a location device, where if he pressed one of the buttons, it would give the other hunters around him within a 100 mile radius his exact location.
"You're just five clicks north of me." Scott panted. "I'll be there in a few moments."
With a soft sigh, Stiles leaned back in the tree with his back against the trunk; he could feel the roughness of the bark scuffling against the soft fabric of his shirt. He observed his surroundings for a couple of seconds, listening to the nature that was around him before he decided to cautiously climb down from the tree; he needed to make sure he was still alone until Scott and Allison joined him. He pressed his back against the tree once he was down on the ground, bow gripped tight in his hands.
He didn't trust having his back to the wide open.
There was rustling noise that caught his attention and Stiles had the mere opportunity to raise his head in the direction of the sound before he was hurtled to the ground by a solid force. He exclaimed in surprise as he crumbled easily to the weight and the sheer force, bow slipping out of his grasp and knocking a ways away. He grunted as he hit the ground and gasped quietly as the feral alpha snarled at him, long white canines dripping slightly with drool as its blood red eyes pierced down angrily at him. As Stiles' heart pounded in his chest, he reached into his pocket and grabbed his hand-knife―a hand-crafted silver blade with the motto of the Argents carved into it―and made a quick jab to the alpha's ribs. The wolf howled in pain and Stiles took the moment to kick the beast off of him as he yanked the knife out. Stiles got up to his feet and twirled the knife around his fingers as he stared the feral alpha down. The beast growled a little, blood seeping through its teeth as it stared back at him. Stiles could hear footsteps as his friends closed in, hearing Scott yelling his name and he could see Allison aim an arrow in the corner of his eye. The alpha barked loudly at him before it made a beeline to Stiles, who immediately prepared for the impact as he gripped his blade tighter. The wolf collided with him and Stiles sunk the blade deep into its chest, making the beast let out whimper as its body jerked. Stiles pulled the blade out and was able to scoot back a little just in time for Allison to lodge an arrow through the beast's head. The wolf jerked, its body going rigid before it slowly crumbled to the ground. Stiles was panting heavily as he slowly made his way up to his feet.
"Well... that's taken care of." He muttered and made his way over to where his bow lay. As he reached down to grab it, he hissed as paid shot through his shoulder.
"Uh, Stiles?" Scott called out in an uneasy manner. Stiles raised his head to look up at his friends, frowning at their horrified expressions.
"What? What's wrong? Is the feral alpha still alive?" He asked.
Scott slowly shook his hand and raised his hand to point at Stiles' shoulder. "Worse." He choked out. With a confused expression, he looked down at his shoulder and felt the blood leave his face and the air leave his lungs. "It bit you."
Stiles was mortified to say the least. A hunter being bitten? That's more than just taboo, that goes against all of their code―even if it was a forced or accidental bite. Either you were a hunter or you were a werewolf, there was no in between and there certainly weren't no ifs, ands, or buts about it. If you were bitten, you only had one outcome; you have no choice in the matter, no opinion, not even a minute to actually speak for yourself.
Maybe it was cruel punishment; you had to pay with your life if you ever got bitten? It was ridiculous―the life of a hunter, and the consequences of it all, was ludicrous. Especially the part where you had no say and no choice.
You got bit? Well, congrats! Now die.
Scott and Allison were distraught. When they had gotten back to the institute, the huntress couldn't stop sobbing and Scott was barely holding it together. Stiles was told to stay in the car for now as they went inside and he assumed his friends would try to convince their leaders to spare him, to try to find another way around this. But when they returned with crest-fallen expressions and even more tears, Stiles had managed a weak smile as he tried to accept what was about to happen. So he embraced his friends. For the last time.
"Take care of each other." Stiles murmured into Scott's shoulder. His best friend―his brother―practically refused to let him go as he sobbed quietly against Stiles' neck. "You gotta promise me at least that."
"I do." Scott sniffled. "I do, Stiles―I―I promise."
"I'm sorry." Stiles murmured. He could feel tears prickling his eyes as he clutched onto Scott's shirt. "I'm so sorry..." He raised his eyes as he saw movement and watched as Gerard walked over with the rest of the leaders behind him.
"Scott." Allison spoke as she gripped his sleeve, giving it a tug. "We―we gotta go. Scott. Scott, let him go. Scott!"
"No!" Scott shouted and clutched on to his friend tighter. "No no no―Stiles―no no―oh god, please, no!"
"Scott, don't make this harder." Stiles begged in a whisper. "Please, you gotta go―you can't be here to watch."
Scott shook his head and clutched Stiles to his chest, built arms wrapping around him protectively as he glared at Gerard. "No! N-No no―you can't―you won't kill him! I―I won't let you! I won't let you kill my brother!" He yelled.
"Scott―" Stiles let out a breathe as he squirmed a little but it only made Scott hold tighter.
"He's the only family I've got left." Scott drawled, tears eyes hardening in anger. "I won't let him die." Stiles' body went limp as he sobbed into Scott's shoulder. One of the leaders stepped forward but it was Allison who made a move, aiming an arrow at him faster than lightening and the leader froze in shock.
"We won't let him die." She hissed. "Lay on hand on him and see what happens." There was a few minutes of a tense stare-off. Scott was still crying a little bit as he held his emotional friend to his chest. Allison had dried her tears, the only thing in her eyes were fierce determination as she kept her arrow posed and ready to fire. The other leaders shared hesitant looks before they looked at Gerard, who was studying the situation with a stoic expression.
"He is not going to die." Gerard spoke, breaking the silence. "We will not kill him." Stiles slowly lifted his head a little to peek over at the Argent, who held his hand up to Allison as he walked over. Scott growled in warning but the Argent paid no attention as he lifted Stiles' hoodie a little bit, pulling the collar of his shirt a little so he could examine the bite mark.
"Then... what are we going to do?" One of the leaders asked hesitantly.
"Stiles," Gerard leaned back a little and looked into his eyes. "are you loyal to us? Will you forever be loyal to us?"
"Of course―you know that." Stiles didn't waste a second to respond back as he straightened a little in Scott's arms. "I've been to loyal to you since the start."
Gerard smiled a little at that. "Which is why I'm giving you the only exception, son." He stayed silent for a moment before he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "You will not be executed." Scott let out a breathe of relief and buried his face into Stiles' hair. "Instead, you will allow you to shift into a wolf and still be a hunter." Gerard held up his hand as the other leaders stepped forward to protest. "Because I, son, have a very special task that only you can do."
Stiles exhaled a little and lifted his head from Scott's chest, looking up at the man warily. "Okay... what―what is it?"
"You are familiar with the Hale pack, correct?" Gerard inquired. Stiles' stiffly nodded in response. "We have been trying to take down the pack for years now. They're an old enemy of ours that tore their way into our history pages. And I think I know how we can finally take them down. You see, Stiles," he stepped forward and put his hand on Stiles' lower back. "all we've ever been trying to do is break them from the outside. But it never works. So we need to work our way inside."
The boy paused a little. "So... you want me to... 'join' the Hale pack and earn their trust?" He asked, puzzled.
"Not just that." Gerard shook his head with a smile. "I'm tasking you with another special mission. Think you can do it?" He challenged. Stiles reached up and rubbed his eyes with his fists before nodding firmly. "That's my boy. Now, yes I want you to work your way into their pack and earn their trust. But what I also want you to do is kill the alpha." Stiles blinked up at him, eyes widening. "I want you to kill Talia Hale. Do you accept this mission, Stiles? Are you going to prove your loyalty to Argents, to the Sealgairs, by breaking the Hale pack up from the inside and kill their alpha?"
Stiles lifted his head to looked up at his friends, both of them looking relieved at the outcome but also speechless by it, before he looked back at Gerard with a determined look. "When do I start?"
Starting was pretty much asap. With the instructions and the special task burned into the back of his head, the bite mark lazily patched up, Stiles was set off to the preserve after a good 5 minute group-hug with his friends. To make it a bit more believable, he was instructed to make his way to the preserve on his own and he agreed; the Hale pack could be anywhere in Beacon Hills and the last thing they need is to see Stiles being dropped off by hunters, hugging them in a cheerful kind of manner, before he set out calmly into the preserve. So he was dropped off just at the start of Beacon Hills, duffle-bag containing his clothes in hand as he walked down the street. Cars zoomed past him and he could see curious faces in the windows of them staring at him as they passed by (Stiles was not ashamed to admit that he made faces at them in return for their unwelcome staring). There were several shops outlining the roads in beginning of Beacon Hills; a few restaurants, two barber shops, a clothing store, and a car dealership. But as he walked deeper into Beacon Hills, the business buildings began to thin down slowly and houses began to appear; varying between those that need a good TLC session, those that were in tip-top shape, and those that looked like they could crumble even if he just poked it.
Stiles was actually tempted to poke one of them just to see if it did crumble.
His shoulder was hurting pretty bad and he could feel the sweat rolling down his temple but he continued to push forward, the direction to the preserve imprinted in his brain as he turned corners and crossed streets. As he turned down a certain road and walked a ways down it, the outlines of houses began to get replaced with the thickness of the woods. He eventually found himself on a slightly beat up road before he spotted a small parking lot just in front of an entrance; topped off a sign at the side.
Beacon Hills Preserve. No entry after dark.
With a small snort, Stiles easily walked into the entrance but the more he walked in, the more his skin crawled. He felt as if he was being watched and it made the anxiety claw up his spine. His pace got quicker and he found himself looking behind his shoulder more often than usual. It had gotten to the point where he was practically running for what he felt like was his life.
Stiles had his head turned to look behind him just as he collided into something. He let out a
unmanly shriek as he hit the ground.
"What are you doing here?" A voice demanded and Stiles looked up in surprise. A tall male stood before him; broad shoulders, even broader chest and biceps, his sharp jaw defined with a well-trimmed scruff and his eyes were intense―boring into Stiles' and giving off the 'fuck with me I dare you' vibe―but he also had thick eyebrows. Grumpy eyebrows.
"This is private property." The male hissed angrily.
Stiles gulped. "W-Well.. if this is private property, then what are you doing here?" He retorted. The male's eyes narrowed at him. Grumpy eyebrows: 0. Stiles: 1.
With a small growl, the male reached down and grabbed Stiles by his shoulder before freezing as Stiles let out a cry of pain. The male's eyes widened a fraction as he sensed pain radiating off of the human and his eyes raked him head to toe to check for any injury before they bored back into his eyes questioningly. Stiles let out a breathe as he lightly touched his shoulder, feeling faint and queasy.
"Hang on," the male raised his hand as he observed Stiles. "I recognize you. You're a hunter!"
"Was." Stiles corrected with a small chuckle, his eyes fluttering closed a little. "I was.. I was told they reside here."
Grumpy Eyebrows scowled and immediately went on the defense side. "You're not getting nowhere near―"
"I was bitten." Stiles whispered and opened his eyes to look up at him. Grumpy Eyebrows paused and squinted, as if he doesn't believe him. "Rogue alpha.. We.. We were trying to kill it before it killed.. more and it.. it bit me as its last resort.." Grumpy Eyebrows studied him for a moment and the next, Stiles found himself with his back against the nearest tree as the nameless stranger yanked Stiles' jacket and collar out of the way to examine the lazily patched up bite. Grumpy Eyebrows let out a breathe as if he had been holding it, eyes wide in shock.
"Normally.. it's code to execute.. those who are bitten.." Stiles exhaled and leaned his head back against the trunk. Grumpy Eyebrows raised his eyes to look up at him. "But.. I bet they were hoping―they were hoping it'd kill me.." There was a few moments of stilled silence before the unnamed male quickly dashed over to where Stiles had dropped his bag, putting the strap on his shoulder before he rushed over to Stiles.
"Well," he huffed as he lifted Stiles into his arms bridal saddle. "let's just hope you don't turn into a kanima."
Stiles let out a small laugh and let his head loll on to his muscular shoulder. "Wouldn't that be a trip." He had blocked out seconds after that and began to slip in and out of consciousness. He had woken up briefly when the male was running through the forest with him in his arms. He had then woke up again as the male jogged up the porch steps. And once again, he awoke to him laying down on a table with voices all around him; some shouting confused, angry questions and a familiar voice trying to calm them down and explain. Everything went black after that and Stiles wasn't sure how long he was out until he woke again. This time, he wasn't on a table and he was instead laying in a bed. His eyes had fluttered openly slowly, the sun beaming down at him through an open window. As he slowly lifted himself off of the bed, he looked around groggily. He was obviously in a room of some sort; it was very neat but didn't have much to offer when it came to decoration. Just a simple bed, nightstand, dresser, closet, desk, and a large shelf that had more than enough books on it. With a soft groan, he placed his feet on the ground and discovered that he was in new clothes; his bloody and torn shirt and jacket were replaced with a new shirt and he was instead wearing a pair of light grey sweats. He hummed in appreciation and walked towards the door, slowly opening it--thankfully it did so without a sound--and peeked down both ways of the hallway. To his right, where there were a more couple of doors, was a staircase leading down; he could hear people talking. Curious, he slowly walked his way closer to the stairs and the voices, the words, became more distinct.
"How do we know it's not a trap?" A female hissed. "He's a hunter."
"What part of him getting bit by the rogue and being kicked out of the hunting business did you not catch?"
"Enough." A voice barked. Now that voice Stiles knew. Grumpy Eyebrows. "He said earlier that the hunters have a code to execute those who got bitten."
"So then why wasn't he executed?"
"Well, I did a little picking around. Turned out the pipsqueak―" Stiles was offended. "―was basically Gerard's son. Gerard took him under his wing and trained him to be a hunter when his parents died."
"So the guy had a soft spot him?"
"Maybe." Grumpy Eyebrows exhaled. Stiles was halfway down the stairs by now. "Maybe he didn't want to watch him die so he spared him in hopes of the bite killing him."
"Or maybe so that he could turn into a wolf and the other hunters could do the job for him."
"First off," Apparently Stiles' presence had alarmed everyone and he watched in amusement as they all jolted in alarm. "My name is not pipsqueak." He shot a look to Grumpy Eyebrows. "It's Stiles. Stiles Stilinski."
"What the hell is a 'Stiles'?"
Grumpy Eyebrows held his hand up to silence them as he stepped forward. "Is that actually your name?" He questioned.
"Well, no. Kind of? Stiles is more like a nickname." Stiles shrugged, rubbing the side of his neck. "My real name is Polish and it's too hard for anyone to pronounce so.. Stiles it is." He explained. Grumpy Eyebrows got closer to him to lift his collar, examining the neat cotton patch on his shoulder before letting out a hum; Stiles couldn't tell if he was relieved or surprised.
"The bite has healed completely. Guess his body accepted it." He announced and ripped the cotton patch off, eyes glinting amusement at Stiles' shriek.
"Wait, wait. Hold up." A female stepped forward, her stoic expression and the 'bitch' aura she had around her made Stiles think she was Grumpy Eyebrows' sister. "Did you say... did you say Stilinski?"
Stiles slowly nodded warily. "Yeah? I'm a Stilinski. Why? Name sound familiar?" He taunted with narrowed eyes. Grumpy Eyebrows paused and looked up at him before he looked at the rest of his pack. There was a moment of hesitation, eye contact being shared between all of them seemingly a newfound conversation going on that didn't include Stiles. The same female stepped forward with a small sigh.
"Let's take a small step back, shall we?" She proposed, voice toned down with a lot less bite and more confused exhaustion than anything else. "My name is Cora. This," she gestured to Grumpy Eyebrows. "is Derek, my older brother."
"Derek?" Stiles echoed and looked at him. "Well, thank fuck I know your name now. I was just gonna call you Grumpy Eyebrows." There was a few disguised snickers from among the pack but Derek seemed unamused, simply glaring at him. "See? Grumpy eyebrows―oh my god, you know what else you remind me of?!" He shrieked and flailed his arms a little before gesturing to him excitedly. "The Grumpy Cat! Oh my god, you're a living breathing meme!" Even Cora's lips perked up in an amused grin as she lowered her head, others snickering even louder as Derek glared harder at him.
"I like this kid." One of the pack members laughed as he walked over to Stiles. "'Sup, man. Welcome the pack. Name's Isaac." He greeted with a smile. Stiles returned the smile and shook his hand. "But, yeah. You're right. He does resemble The Grumpy Cat all too well, doesn't he?"
"Isaac." Derek groaned, rolling his eyes. "Stop encouraging him."
"Oh don't be such a sourwolf." Stiles scoffed with a wave of his hand. Derek's eye twitched. Grumpy Eyebrows: 0. Stiles: 2.
The other pack members approached to greet Stiles, some reluctantly while others were curious and excited to meet him. Cora and Laura were both Derek's sisters. Then there was Boyd, Isaac, and Erica that didn't have the Hale name but earned it when they got bitten by Derek a couple months back. Then was Peter Hale ("You look like pedophile type―are you the pedophile type?" "I dunno, wanna find out?" "...Security!"). There were other members of the pack that didn't have the Hale name but were still welcomed in it; Julie, Veronica, Damien, Ian, and Dan (Julie and Damien were married and had a couple pups running around while Veronica and Ian together with Veronica expecting). Talia reeked of alpha-ness. She held her head up high, shoulders squared, voice firm but she spoke softly when it came to her pack members. She bore the title of the pack alpha with pride.
As he was introduced to everyone, he also learned their ranks. Erica, Boyd, Isaac, and Cora were all betas. Laura was the female alpha, obviously a slightly lower rank compared to Talia, and Peter was the male alpha. However Derek, holy shitballs, Derek―was pretty much second in line for being the pack alpha. His rank of alpha-ness surpassed Peter's and Laura's, so much so that when Talia isn't around, Derek is assigned the pack alpha role.
Not only is he severely and unfortunately attractive, but he's also a major badass.
"The full moon is tomorrow night." Derek informed as he showed Stiles towards his room. "To prevent you from lashing at all of us, we'll have to take precautions."
"Is that so? Do you have like―a secret sex dungeon? Gonna tie me up 50 Shade of Grey style?" Stiles cheekily chimed.
Derek sighed, like he was at his breaking point of patience, and rolled his eyes. "How you're not murdered every second is beyond me." He groaned and folded his arms across his chest. "We will have to restrain you. I've been assigned to train you and learn control. If you survive tomorrow night, then we will start you training the next day. That's an if, Stiles."
Stiles looked up as he set his duffle bag on his bed. "Has there been times where some haven't survived their first full moon?" He asked. Derek fell silent for a moment before he nodded.
"The first full moon is always the hardest for newly turned werewolves." He sighed and walked forward, further into Stiles' room, and watched him with flaked interest as Stiles began unpacking. "It's not uncommon for those to die or be killed."
"Do you think I'll die?" Stiles asked after a moment.
"I hope you will." Derek grunted.
"Oh, please. And who will keep you on your toes with their sarcastic wit and unbelievable charm?" Stiles cooed, laughing as Derek looked torn between shredding him to pieces or kicking him across the house.
"You are unbelievable." Derek deadpanned.
Stiles grinned at him. "Unbelievably attractive, I know. Thank you." He curtsied for dramatic affect. Derek groaned with a roll of his eyes and turned to begin walking away. Stiles snickered to himself and grabbed one of his shirts, yanking it out of the bag and jolting a little as something clanked onto the ground. He looked down to his feet and noticed that it was a framed picture of his parents that he had packed with him. When he bent down to pick it up, a hand has slowly reached out to grab the frame instead. There was a pregnant silence as Stiles look up at Derek, who was staring at the picture with a look of―sorrow?
"...They're your parents?" Derek asked, though it more like a statement. Stiles nodded slowly and reached out to take the frame into his own hands.
"Yeah... Died when I was young... Too young..."
The silence grew and Derek shifted a little before stepping closer to him, reaching out to put his hand on Stiles' shoulder.
"Tomorrow morning. Meet me at the tire swing at 9am." He instructed. Stiles turned his head to look at him, eyebrows pinched together in confusion. Derek was too close, faces merely centimeters apart but neither seemed bothered by the proximity.
"Why? What for?" Stiles wondered.
"I need to show you something." Derek hesitated before he looked down at the framed picture. "...And I can tell you about your parents." Stiles' eyes widened as he opened his mouth to speak but Derek was already closing the door, calling out a reminder of the place and time for them to meet up. The newly turned werewolf looked back at the picture of his mother and father, both smiling wide and happy at the camera, and longingly touched the glass with the patch of his thumb. And as he carefully placed the photo on the dressed, he reached into his bag to pull out a cross pendant; the horizontal dash of the cross was streaked red while the diagonal dash was a shiny silver and in the middle of it was the Polish military eagle emblem, the emblem being Sealgairs' heirloom but also a symbol for Stiles' father's military history. Stiles carefully put the pendant down on to the dresser in front of the photo and let out a breathe. He heard some noises outside and turned his head, approaching his still opened window to discover Laura and Cora outside playing with Julie's and Damien's pups with Derek and Laura keeping watch. As he watched the pups squeal and scream happily as Laura chased after them, wide smile blooming on her face, Stiles' stomach churned.
Something was different. About this house, about this place, about them―about all of them, about all of this. For some reason, something was gnawing at his subconsciousness; like there's a missing puzzle piece, a very important, missing from his almost complete puzzle.
And as he looked over at Derek only to find the alpha looking up at him, Stiles had another feeling that the sourwolf knew exactly where that missing puzzle piece was.