DISCLAIMER: I Do Not Own Teen Wolf

Stiles Stilinski was used to listening to Scott talk about Ellie Argent. He knew that his best friends was in love with the girl, and wanted nothing more than to kill the alpha and hook up with her again. He tried to be as supportive as he could, honestly, he did, but that wasn't very easy. Watching Scott get first line, get a girlfriend and get Lydia Martin to kiss him wasn't fun. It was down-right horrible. Sometimes, Stiles wondered what it would be like if he was the one who was bitten. Maybe Lydia would be interested in him.

Ah, Lydia Martin. Beautiful, strawberry blonde, smart, sassy, perfect... the list of amazing traits just went on and on. Stiles was totally in love with her, like, completely, but she'd barely spoken more than two words to him, even after Scott's transformation.

But, even with his excitement about the supernatural, Stiles did want a couple hours off to just search the net, and he deserved it. He deserved a break for everything he'd done.

Of course, he never got the things he wanted, so , as he sat in front of his laptop at home, he just had to find Derek Hale.

"Hey, Stiles!" he heard his dad yell form down the hall, presumably in his bedroom. He'd gotten the night off to watch his son's first game on first line (Stiles was so excited, whenever he thought about, he peed a little).

"Yo, D-" he stumbled over his words, catching sight of the older werewolf behind his door. "Derek!" the beta in question made a few violent gestures as the teenager stumbled quickly to his feet and to the door. He ran so that half of his body was in the hall, half in his room, and the door was digging into his shoulder. He couldn't have his dad finding out about harbouring a (wrongly accused) fugitive in his room.

Sheriff Stilinski stood outside, a frown on his face, "What did you say?"

"What?" Stiles asked, voice an octave higher than usual as panic gripped him, "I said 'you, d-dad'."

"Listen," the sheriff said, deciding not to ask why his son was acting weird. His son was always acting weird, "I've got something I need to take care of, but I'm going to be there for your first game."

"My first game," Stiles repeated, a large, manic smile on his lips. "Oh, that's great. Great, awesome, good."

The sheriff gave him a tight smile, eyes questioning, "I'm very happy for you, and I'm really proud of you."

"Thanks!" he awkwardly hung from the door frame, "Me, too. I'm happy, and proud... of myself."

"So..." John jammed his hands in his pockets, "They're really going to let you play, right?"

A really grin found its way onto Stiles' face, "Yeah, I'm first line." He made an odd noise at the back of his throat, one that made him wince slightly. Oh my God, couldn't he be cool for like one second? This is why Lydia didn't want to know.

"I'm very proud," The older man said again.

"Me, too." Stiles agreed, "Again. I'm..." he trailed off as his dad hugged him. "Huggy." He said, leaning on the door protectively, "Huggy, huggy."

"... See you there."

"Take it easy."

Sheriff Stilinski gave him an odd look before walking back down the hall and down the stairs. Stiles stood for a moment, watching him go, before rushing into his room. He slammed it shut, and then was forced backwards into it by Derek, who had a murderous expression on his face. His hand gripped the teen's jacket, and one of his fingers jabbed him painfully in the chest.

"You say one word-"

"Oh, what, you mean 'Hey, dad, Derek Hale's in my room, bring your gun'?" He said smartly, and the wolf's glare faltered for a moment. It was enough to inspire confidence in the teen, and Stiles let a smirk tilt his lips upward. "Yeah, that's right. I'm harbouring you're fugitive ass, my house, my rules, buddy." They were both silent for a few moments, and Derek let him go. He walked passed the older werewolf, mockingly straightening his leather jacket. Derek jerked his head in Stiles' direction, causing him to flinch and curse on his way back to his desk.

"Is Scott going to get the necklace?"

"No, he's still working on it." And he was. From what Scott had told him, the necklace hadn't been in her bag when she was swimming, so his best bet was that it was still at her house. The werewolf had grudgingly admitted that the only plan he had left now was to steal it. "But there's something else we can try. The night we were trapped at the school, Scott sent a text to Ellie asking her to meet him there."

"So?"

Gosh, Derek, you're a freaking idiot.

"So," Stiles continued, giving the older man a dirty look, "It wasn't Scott," Obviously.

Derek was silent for a few minutes, before asking, "Can you find out who sent it?"

"No, not me," Stiles, as admittedly smart as he was (and he was very smart), was not computer savvy further than googling and playing World of Warcraft. "But I think I know someone who can."

♚

Scott had stooped to an all-time low.

He'd been in Ellie's room plenty of times, sometimes to genuinely study, mostly to make out while her uncle was away, but he'd never been without her permission (duh). It was still the same: the desk was in the same place, the bed still perfectly made, that picture of her and Allison taped onto a mirror, and then a new addition of a snapshot of her, Lydia and Jackson at what looked to be the local burger joint.

It took him a while to root through all of her things. The drawers made him blush slightly, as he knew that her underwear was in there somewhere (best not let his thoughts go in that direction), but peering under her bed was more than a little dull.

Being in her bedroom without her took all of the fun out of it.

With a sigh, he looked hopelessly around the room, wondering how well Stiles was doing with Plan B.

♔

"You want me to do what?"

It was no secret that Danny didn't like Stiles. Danny obviously didn't find him particularly attractive, but he'd never done anything to upset the boy, so all of the hostility was really uncalled for.

Though, he had to admit, that he was willing to use him for his benefits. You see, around two years prior, Stiles snuck into his dad's office to look up people he knew. Lydia had never committed a crime, Jackson had been given a few speeding tickets (his statements all read "dude, it's a Porsche") and Danny had been almost charged for hacking into a very secure system that was not meant for civilian eyes.

Now, Stiles needed Danny's help (even if Danny wasn't overly enthusiastic about giving it).

"Trace a text." Stiles said, and not for the first time. For someone almost as clever as a certain strawberry blonde, he was a little slow.

"I came here to do lab work," Danny deadpanned, "That's what lab partners do."

Stiles groaned, "And we will. After you trace the text."

"And what makes you think I know how?"

"I looked up your arrest report, so..."

"I," Danny awkwardly put his hands in his pockets, "I was thirteen. They dropped the charges." He caught the pale boys look, and scowled, "No! We're doing lab work!" He dropped onto a stool next to Stiles, glancing surreptitiously over his shoulder, "Who's he again?"

Derek was still in the room, sat reading the old dictionary his dad had bought him as some lame gift when he was seven and still into learning. His leather jacket had been discarded, and Stiles had been able to pretend that he wasn't even there for the most part, but he could feel the werewolf's scowl burning into his back.

Stiles tossed his head to see the beta, before lying, "Um, my cousin... Miguel." He cringed internally. Really? Miguel was the best he could come up with? What the hell was wrong with him?!

"Is that..." Danny trailed off hesitantly, "Blood on his shirt?"

"Yeah!" He said, probably a little louder than he should've, "Yes, he gets these horrible nose bleeds," he explained, "Hey, Miguel!" Derek looked up at him slowly, scowling, "I thought I told you you could borrow one of my shirts?"

Derek stood, whipping his shirt off of his head and turning to grab the first bundle of plaid he saw. Stiles, though he would never admit it, found it difficult to look away from the man, which confused him. He hated Derek Hale, sure, but that wasn't what was worrying him. (HE LIKED GIRLS! LYDIA MARTIN IN PARTICULAR) So he wrote the odd feelings down as too much sexual frustration and being next to a guy who said gay people wouldn't find him attractive.

"We both know," The pale boy continued, staring forcefully at Danny, "That you have the skills to trace that text-"

"Stiles," a smooth, passive-aggressive voice came from the corner (and Stiles saw his lab partner turn to the older man intently, looking like a girl on her period seeing a chocolate cake), "This no fit," he tugged on one of his less than attractive polo's, facing the two teenagers with his entire chest on display. Not that Stiles cared or anything.

He narrowed his eyes, "Then try something else on." He turned back to Danny, catching the hormonal stare, and stopping his apology before it passed his lips. Oh. Oh. Danny boy had a thing for Derek (or Miguel). He flicked his eyes between them meaningfully, making Danny blush, and whacked his arm suggestively, "Eh, that one looks pretty good. What do you think Danny?"

"Huh?"

"The shirt."

The shirt was awful. It was one Scott had bought him around three years ago, with ghastly orange and blue stripes that had made him put on his fakest smile as to not hurt his friend's feelings. Why Derek had chosen that one out of various other shirts (mainly superhero themed) Stiles had no idea, but it was odd to see the werewolf in any colour that wasn't black, brown or grey.

"It's-" Danny bashfully ducked his head, "It's not really his colour."

"You swing for a different team but you still play ball, don't you Danny boy." Stiles teased, grinning.

"You're a horrible person."

"I know; it keeps me awake at night. Anyway, about that text-"

"Stiles!" Derek yelled, still only half clothed, "None of these fit!"

There was a slight pause, before Danny leaned over Stiles to the laptop and said, "I'll need the ISP, the phone number and the exact time of text."

♔

Scott had absolutely no idea where his ex-girlfriend would hide a necklace. Seriously, what sort of crazy person wouldn't put the thing in a place simple, like a jewellery box, or, or her desk or something.

Her desk!

He hadn't even thought about the desk! It was probably just sitting there, mocking him, hiding in plain sight. Scott hesitantly reached down to flick open a book, but stopped immediately. On top of an old, worn-looking hardback was the chain he'd given her. Not the one he wanted, but it still made him drop painfully into her desk chair.

But then, after one agonizing moment spent mourning his relationship, he saw another silver chain, this one dirtier, which was tucked neatly underneath a math textbook.

Scott snatched it off of the desk, and jumped out of the window, just missing Ellie as she walked into the room.

He could still hear her from outside, giggling into the receiver and asking, "How is that even possible?"

"I don't know!" That was Allison, snickering, "I just slipped and landed right in the puddle!"

"But you were in super grip shoes!"

"It was winter!"

"Winter in Hawaii! There was no ice! You were on asphalt!"

"... Your point?"

"Allison, you're an idiot. I'll see you at home."

♔

Danny had somehow managed to move from the left to the right side of the laptop, but Stiles couldn't care less. Derek hovered behind them, uncomfortably close to his back (he was really intimidated by him), watching with incredible concentration.

"There." The other boys leaned in immediately, "The text was sent from a computer," That was possible? "This one," Danny pointed to the screen.

"Registered to that account name?" Derek asked sharply, but he'd dialled down the hostility because, hey, the boy'd helped them.

"No, no, no, no." Stiles denied, "That can't be right."

And it couldn't, because, as he stared at the screen, his eyes were locked on the address.

Melissa McCall

♔

Another life threatening conversation with Chris Argent definitely wasn't on Scott's to do list. In fact, he wanted to stay as far away from the hunter as he possibly could. So then how did he end up being escorted back into Ellie's house, the older man wearing a large, frightening smile?

"I'm guessing she's upstairs," Chris said removing his jacket, "Allison won't be back until later; she sometimes likes to take a run after school."

"Actually, I should get going." Scott said blandly, "I've got a game to get to tonight."

"You want something to drink?" Chris ignored him, opening their family fridge and grabbing a beer. "I'm going to have a beer." He placed another in front of the teenager.

"You don't need to test me anymore, Mr Argent." Scott said sadly, "Ellie already dumped me."

"No test." The hunter said, taking a sip from the bottle, "I'm sorry, though. You know what they say about high school romances: they burn bright, fade fast..." he jerked his head at the beverage, still standing on the counter, "Go ahead."

Scott gently pushed it back in the hunter's direction. "I'm good, thanks."

There was silence for a minute, and Scott considered asking to leave again, but then Mr Argent said, "I was curious about something, Scott." His smile disappeared, "How do you know Derek Hale?"

Derek Hale?

Derek Hale?!

He knew a hell of a lot more about Derek Hale then he wanted to. So, deciding that playing dumb was the answer, he said innocently, "Who?"

Maybe that wasn't such a good idea. It was pretty difficult to get anything past Chris Argent, and trying to lie to him was literally putting his life in danger. Even more danger than he'd been in as soon as he stepped into the house.

"Ellie said she saw you talking to him." Chris said, voice alarmingly sharp. "Don't you think that seems a little... disconcerting, Scott? Talking to an alleged murderer?"

"It's not like I'm the only one that knows him," he said defensively.

"But you're the only one that's talking to him."

No, Stiles was talking to him, too. Actually, as they spoke, he was pretty sure Stiles was talking to alleged killer Derek. Besides, it wasn't like he was totally cool with his dumbass mistake of accusing perfectly innocent Derek. It ended his relationship!

"Why are you talking to me like I've done something wrong?!"

"Have you?"

"..."

"You don't have to be afraid of me, Scott. You get that I'm just thinking about my niece's safety, right?"

"Would you believe me if I said I think about it, too? That it's all I think about! When we were in the school the other night, every choice that I made, everything I did, every single thing was to make sure that she was safe!"

"..."

"..."

"You should go. Don't want to be late for your game."

Of course, neither of them were aware that Ellie was stood by the stairs, frozen in place and listening to every word.

♔

"Did you get the picture?"

"Yeah," Stiles replied, "And it looks just like the drawing."

There was a tussle on the other end of the phone line, and then Derek's voice said, "Hey, if there's something on the back of it... there's got to be something. An inscription, an opening, something."

"No, the thing's flat," Scott sat down on the bleachers, lacrosse gear on and cheering spectators surrounding him. The game was yet to start, but people were already buzzing. "And, no, it doesn't open. "There's nothing in it, on it, around it, nothing. And where are you?! You're supposed to be here, you're first line!"

Someone whacked the werewolf on the back of the head, and he turned to see coach glaring at him. "Where the hell is Bilinksi?! Huh?"

Scott felt his eyebrows furrow. The coach was awful; Stiles had been on the team since the beginning of freshman year, yet he didn't even know his name.

Finstock wondered away, taking Scott's answering shrug as enough, and he said softly, "You're not going to play if you're not here to start."

"I know!" Stiles shouted resignedly in reply, "Look, if you see my dad, could you tell him... tell him I'll be there, I'll just be a little late, okay? Alright, thanks."

Scott looked down at his phone and resisted the urge to throw it across the field. He couldn't afford a new one after all.

♔

"You're not going to make it."

"I know."

"And you didn't tell him about his mum either."

"Not 'til we find out the truth."

"..."

"..."

"By the way, one more thing..."

"Yeah?"

Derek's arm reached out, grabbed the back of Stiles' head, and smashed it forward so it collided painfully with the steering wheel. Jesus Christ, what the hell was this guy's problem?!

"Oh my God! What the hell was that-"

"You know what that was for!" Derek interrupted, pointing an accusing finger at the teenager before directing it to the hospital in front of them. "Go. Go!"

Stiles stumbled out of his jeep, scowling in anger and more than slight agony. God, why did he even agree to help Scott? Why couldn't he have normal friends?

When he got inside, he couldn't help but notice how deserted the place was. He could literally see no nurses, not even Scott's mum, and all of the lights in the wards were shut off.

"Yeah," he said to Derek on the phone, "I said I can't find her,"

"Look, ask for Jennifer. She's been looking after my uncle."

"Yeah, well," he glanced around the empty hospital room, "He's not here, either."

"What?"

"He's not here. He's gone, Derek,"

"..."

"Derek?"

"Stiles, get out of there right now! It's him, he's the alpha! Get out!"

What? Derek's uncle was the alpha? Derek's comatose uncle?! Talk about plot twist!

Stiles turned to leave, but his way was being blocked by a figure in a nice suit, his hair slightly unruly and a face that would've been good looking if it hadn't been for the hideous burn cars covering one half of his face, and the malicious gleam in his blue eyes.

"You must be Stiles."

a/n thanks for reading. sorry its pretty crap.

dedicated to Teagan_al because she writes Melodies and she followed me!