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Stiles jolted awake to the sound of something crashing downstairs, flailing as he nearly fell out of bed in his surprise. Mind foggy, he untangled himself from his sheets, stumbling out of his room. He knew his dad was supposed to be home and was growing more and more worried by the second that he'd managed some sort of accident with one of the many appliances. As handy as his father was with household things, anything technology related was not his strong suit, and that included appliances.

“Dad? Everything okay?” he called, heading down the stairs and running a hand through his hair sending it up at even odder angles. “Dad?” He reached the bottom of the stairs and found his gaze drawn automatically to the fact that the front door was open, though only just. A wave of precaution immediately swept over him and just then he heard the door to his fathers room open upstairs.

“Stiles? Why are you awake?” in the living room doorway a dark figure appeared and Stiles was immediately scrambling back, the figure darting after him.

“Dad! Break and enter!” he found himself shouting, trying not to stumble as he hurried back up the stairs, but whoever was chasing him was faster, grabbing his ankle and jerking his foot out from under him. He fell with a crash, head hitting a stair and making him see stars. He cried out, and his dad was immediately there, gun in hand.

“Step away from my son!” he shouted, gun aimed and ready to fire. Rather than let him go, whoever had grabbed him just pulled him closer. Stiles managed to focus long enough to see another dark figure dart past him and whoever was holding him, grabbing his dad and smashing his head against the wall with a sickening crack.

“Dad!” he shouted, reaching for the power he knew resided inside of him, fear squeezing his chest, but the figure who'd knocked his father out rushed back down and after a blinding pain Stiles slipped into darkness.


It was his turn to patrol and Isaac loped through the neighbourhood at an easy pace. Stiles' house was the last on the list tonight since the sheriff was home, but he never skipped, knowing not only that Derek would be pissed if he found out, but Isaac also liked knowing Stiles was safe. The human was his pack mate, but he was also his friend, and Stiles was the one he counted on whenever he got low, because Stiles understood those lows. He reached the house and felt a sudden wave of unease, leaping up to Stiles' window. The moment he did so he noticed the bed was empty, bedroom door wide open. Though a bit worried because of the nagging feeling, he leapt back down, moving around to the front of the house. That was when he noticed the door was open and the worry crashed over him. Rushing forward, he pushed the door open, other senses now straining. He could hear a single heartbeat and rushed towards it, feeling the briefest flash of relief at the sight of the sheriff accompanied by the thought 'Stiles will be relieved', until he realized that there was no other heartbeat in the house. His phone was out as he dashed up the stairs, easily rolling the Sheriff over before he tried to rouse him. Derek answered on the third ring.

“Everything okay, Isaac?” Derek asked, knowing that the youngest wolf in his pack never called on his patrol, and the first words he heard were panted and not directed at him.

“Sheriff! Mr. Stilinski, can you hear me? Mr. Stilinski!” Derek's grip on his phone tightened at the words. Isaac was with the sheriff, did that mean something had happened? Where was he?

“Isaac.” he barked, and could almost feel the switch in Isaacs' attention.

“When I got here the front door was open. I could only find the sheriff. Stiles isn't anywhere.” Isaac paused, taking a deep breath of air through his nose. “Something here smells weird, but I've never smelled it before.” at that moment the sheriff stirred, opening groggy eyes to look at Isaac. Well aware of the nature of this particular young adult and all of Derek's pack, he wasn't surprised to see him in his house, only accepted the offered support as he stood.

“Did you see them? Did you see Stiles?” were the first words out of his mouth, and Isaac could only shake his head, still holding the phone. The sheriff sagged against him. “I don't know what those people were, but they were fast. Faster than I could see, and pretty damn strong too.” Derek listened to it all with growing apprehension and he was already in the car, tearing away from the curb.

“I'm going to be there in five, Isaac. Secure the house, got it?” Isaac gave an affirmative and hung up, leaving Derek with a silence that pressed against his skin with an itchy feeling he couldn't scratch away. Stiles was missing. The phrase twisted through his thoughts and his hands tightened on the steering wheel. Stiles had been taken before, much to Derek's continued anguish, but they usually knew who it was and what they wanted. It also rarely took long for them to be hunted down and killed because nobody hurt pack, and Stiles was definitely his pack. Mate. His wolf reminded him with a satisfied hum at the reminder. It wasn't a secret that Stiles was his mate, but they hadn't pursued it as far as they could. Derek was nervous about a relationship and Stiles agreed that they should remain more or less how they were until they were both ready to take that step forward. So at the moment they were more or less a platonic friendship – aside from the searing glances and near kisses – but they were managing. Well, Stiles was managing. Derek on the other hand was realizing that it was time to take the next step. His mind went back to the fact that Stiles was missing, and his wolf whined. Where was he? Who could have taken him? He arrived at the Stilinksi household and froze the moment he stepped through the door, a familiar and horrifying scent meeting his nose. He heard Isaac whine from where he'd appeared down the hall.

“What is it, Derek?” the beta asked softly, and Derek couldn't even hide his wide eyed disbelief when he looked up to see both Isaac and the sheriff.



Stiles came to with his head pounding, knowing almost immediately that he was trapped down to a chair. A fleeting thought told him that it shouldn't be such a common occurrence that he recognized it so easily, but he pushed the thought away. He remembered waking up once before in the back of a car, only to be jabbed with something that knocked him right back out. Before just moving as he would've once done, he mentally gave himself a once over, checking for pain and injuries. The only significant pain was in his head from where he'd been knocked out, and what felt like a bruise on his thigh from where he'd been jabbed. His wrists hurt a bit, shoulders a bit achy, but that was due to being trapped in the chair. Mindful of his head, he opened his eyes, careful not to move to suddenly, taking in his surroundings. He was on a chair in the middle of a plain room with a dirt floor, stone walls, and a heavy looking metal door. Beyond the small window at the top covered with bars, he could see a faint light, but it was no brighter than the pale yellow light in the room he was in. Pulling a little on his wrists, he felt the sharp bite of cuffs, and craned his neck back to look at them. They were infused with something, and he tentatively reached for his spark, not really surprised at all when it met the cuffs and just hummed under his skin. He could break the cuffs, but it didn't seem worth the effort yet, so instead he focused on reducing the pounding in his head. When it had faded to a manageable ache, he changed his focus. Tilting his head, he tried to stretch his natural senses as far as they could go. He might still have been human, but being an alpha mate enhanced his senses – it didn't make them werewolf good, but much better than most. Straining to hear anything, he held his breath, and that's when he heard it. Three voices were arguing, about what he couldn't hear, but he could hear three distinct voices. Two male and one female. That had him pausing. He recognized the female voice. In that instant, it clicked.

“Elena?” he shouted, unable to hide his disbelief, and the immediate silence was blaring. A single set of footsteps immediately rushed down a set of stairs and he looked up again just as the door swung open, revealing the familiar round face, brown eyes, and straight brown hair.

“Stiles?” she was clearly as surprised as he was, and so he lifted a brow, letting his irritation be known.

“You know, if you wanted me to visit, you could've just given me a call.” Elena frowned, stepping inside the room and towards him even as a man appeared in the doorway. Stiles hadn't heard him coming which made it clear that this was one of the vampires that had grabbed him. He'd realized what they nearly the moment his brain had managed to catch up with the events and he scanned the mans appearance. Tall, black hair, bright blue eyes, and a sardonic smirk that reminded him of Peter. Elena moved around behind him but Stiles kept his eyes on the vampire, wary.

“Since when have you been friends with vampires, cuz?” Stiles asked, watching the vampire lift a brow.

“It's complicated.” she mumbled, then, “Damon, keys.” It wasn't so much a request as a demand, and Stiles watched only a little surprised as the vampire sped over, obviously trying to scare him, and unlocked the cuffs. As they fell from his wrists, another man appeared in the doorway, this one with the perfectly coifed hair and the martyr frown gracing his features. Smiles couldn't help but smirk.

“Do all supernatural groups have at least one broody member weighed down with guilt and perfect hair?” The one called Damon snorted, and the one in the doorway rolled his eyes.

“Why are we letting him go?” It was Damon who asked, and Stiles looked at Elena. Though it was no secret he loved to talk, he also wanted to see how she'd handle this.

“Stiles is family.” was all she said, and both men looked at him. Elena waved for him to continue so he shrugged.

“My lines older than the Petrova one. In fact, the Petrova's are descendents from my ancestors. They just moved to Bulgaria two generations before Katherine.” Everyone tensed at the name but Stiles ignored it, turning to Elena instead. “Like I was saying though, if you wanted me to visit, you could've just called.”

“I didn't know you were being brought here. In fact,” she turned a glare on the two vampires. “I didn't know anything about you at all.”

Instead of answering her, the darker haired vampire, Damon, spoke again instead.

“How did you guys meet, exactly? You just happened to decide to research the family tree and stumbled across Elena's name?”

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Are you normally such a jackass or is this special treatment?” he asked, rather than answer, and for the first time, the man in the doorway spoke.

“He's always like this.” He came forward now, walking up to Stiles and offering his hand. “I'm Stefan. And this is my brother Damon.” Stiles accepted the offered hand easily, though cautiously.


“What kind of name is Stiles?” Damon asked, and Stiles slid his gaze back to the other vampire, cocking a brow.

“What kind of vampire can get in without an invitation?”

Damon gave a sharp smile meant to put Stiles on edge, but he was used to way worse.

“We compelled your dad.” at that, Stiles stiffened, and Elena moved right over, putting a hand on his arm.

“Let's go upstairs, okay?” she took Stiles' hand, tugging him away, “I'll get you something to eat.” he allowed himself to be pulled along, but his thoughts were still on the vampires. He still had no idea why he was here, and he now knew here meant Mystic Falls. The brothers followed them up and once in the kitchen, Stiles settled to lean back against the counter, foot tapping a rapid rhythm.

“Will you stop that? Kids these days.” Damon said in exaggerated exasperation. “They don't know how to sit still.”

“Know what else we don't do? Take kindly to being kidnapped out of our own home.” Then he remembered something; the most important thing. “So, which one of you was the one that grabbed me?” he asked, and though neither responded, he caught the flicker of Stefan's eyes. He turned to Damon, a too bright smile on his face. “So you're the one who hurt my dad then.” It wasn't a question, but Damon just looked over, unimpressed.

“He'll be fine.” he said with a shrug, and the too bright smile widened a bit.

“Damon.” Elena hissed, but Stiles waved off her worry.

“Don't worry, Elena. I got this.” he told her, giving her arm an easy touch of comfort. He was used to tactile comforting, and knew Elena didn't mind. They'd grown up visiting each other after all. His mother had been good friends with Elena's adoptive parents, and though he didn't tell them about their shared heritage until after all of their parents had died, it didn't change the ties for him. At his words though, Damon just scoffed.

“I'm sorry about your daddy.” Damon said, voice dripping with condescension, and that was the last straw. It took no effort to grasp his spark and he flicked out the fingers of one hand, listening to the sound of bones shattering. Damon groaned in pain, collapsing, but before either of the other two approached him, Stiles warned them off with a single glance. He moved forward easily, crouching in front of the vampire, new bones shattering every time he tried to move. “What the hell are you?” Damon growled, and Stiles gave a wicked grin.

“You've never heard of me so what I am makes no difference. What does make a difference though, is that this is only a fraction of what I can do.” Damon's disbelieving gaze met his, and with a tilt of his head, Damon was writhing again. “I don't care who you are, or if you're a vampire, but you compelled my dad, broke into my house, and then you hurt him. If it was anyone else, I'd let it go, but that's my dad, dude. Nobody hurts him. I've killed people for less.” of course that was only a partial lie. He had killed people, but for less – he'd have to think on that. “So for future reference, touch my dad again, and I will end you.” he stood and Damon stilled, the pain gone, bones healing themselves back together. Stefan moved right in to help him up, and Elena just watched with a shake of her head.

“Did you know about this?” Damon asked her, and she shrugged.

“Not exactly.” Stiles just tossed her a grin, moving over to swing an arm around her.

“You know what, I'm starved. Does the grill still serve curly fries? I'd kill for some.” Elena rolled her eyes but smiled.

“Yeah, they still have curly fries, but you might want to change.” Stiles looked down at the thin cotton t-shirt he was wearing and plaid pyjama pants hanging low on his hips.

“Huh,” he ran a hand through his hair and nodded. “Yeah, that'd be good. Got anything that'd fit?” he asked with a cheeky grin. Elena just looked at Stefan, and he sighed.

“Come on. I'll lend you some clothes.” He glanced down at Stiles' bare feet. “And some shoes.”

“Thanks man, I really do appreciate it.” Stiles followed him out of the room, glancing back to notice Elena now carefully approaching Damon. He filed that away, turning back to Stefan. “You know,” he began, “Elena and I have known each other most of our lives, and we email fairly regularly, but I don't really remember her mentioning either of you, though by the looks of it, she should've. Does she live here with the two of you?” Stefan tossed him a wary glance, as if expecting the monumental pain any second, and Stiles just grinned at him. “Don't worry, dude. I don't have any interest in breaking all the bones in your body.”

“Is that what you did?” he asked, and Stiles nodded, following the other into what was clearly his bedroom.

“Yup.” he fidgeted as he looked around the room. “I hear the brain aneurysm thing is common for witches around here so I wanted my own signature. Something a bit more dramatic.” Stefan just lifted a brow. “Wow, again with the eyebrows. You guys must be like supernatural species twins.” at that, Stefan frowned.

“Who are you talking about?” Stiles grinned again but changed the topic. That was his pack. He wasn't giving away any information that could be of any importance.

“So when did you come into town anyways? Last I heard it was a Zachary Salvatore living here or something. Isn't that right? Oh, actually, now that I think about it, Elena may have mentioned he died.” he cocked his head at Stefan. “If I had to guess though I'd say it was your crazy, overzealous brother though who ended him.”

Stefan was just staring at him with that same frown, finally tossing him a pair of jeans and a plain t-shirt. Wow, even their fashion sense was similar. Stiles grinned wider at the thought.

“Back to Elena though – she still friends with Bonnie and Caroline? Oh and how's Jeremy doing? I heard he was working at the grill for a while, I wonder if he could get me extra curly fries. I love those things, dude, they're the best. Oh and when did vampires start coming back to Mystic Falls? I mean I know about the whole thing around when you and your brother were turned-” he broke off at the look on Stefan's face, superior look flashing across his features briefly. “I know you're the Salvatore brothers Katherine turned. Wasn't exactly hard to figure that out. Know what is hard to figure out though?” he asked, switching pyjamas for the borrowed clothes, “Why two vampires showed up in the middle of the night and kidnapped me. I'm still stuck on that. I mean, I know I'm awesome, and quite a catch, but it doesn't really make any sense. It wasn't a power grab since the two of you were completely clueless that I even had abilities, and there's no way you'd be doing it to set off the pack because that would be the stupidest thing you could possibly do, so why am I here?”

“Do you ever shut up?” Damon asked, walking into the room, Elena on his heels, and he shook his head.

“Not if I can help it.” he walked over to Elena, knocking into Damon on the way by with another mocking grin. “Well come on,” he said, linking arms with Elena. “You two are coming. I have questions I want answered. If you're lucky, I'll answer a few of yours in return.” as the two humans wandered down the hall, Damon shared a glance with his brother.

“He mentioned a pack.” Stefan murmured, and Damon nodded, no longer smirking, but frowning as well.

“And he smells like dog.” Stefan's own frown deepened.

“Werewolf packs don't keep humans though.”

“I don't think he's completely human.” Damon countered, and to they're mutual surprise, Stiles shouted back.

“Nearly 100% human.” his voice rang out, followed by a snicker, and Damon gritted his teeth.

“I don't like him.” he stated, turning a pointed glare on his brother, and Stefan just huffed out a sigh, leaving the bedroom.

“Come on. Won't find out anything standing in here.”